Rita stood for a moment, watching him disappear down the drive. Then, just as suddenly, Archie popped into her mind. He would have been so averse to all this resort malarkey, the onsite wedding, the strangers in the top field, the big drama of it all. She could imagine his moaning, the way he would stomp around the kitchen, then turn to her, pick her up in his big arms, and swirl her around, apologising. God, she missed him, so much. The familiarity of their time together, of bringing up their kids, a life lived so well. A life stolen far too soon.
Unfair didn’t even begin to cover it. She could rage, cry, and fling the question ‘why him, why me?’ into the universe, but the silence would answer the same. And now, the tug of life was moving her forward. She could love Jago andstilllove Archie. It wasn’t a betrayal; it was the strange, messy truth of the heart. Some love stayed with you forever, and some demanded you show up for it while it was here. She just had to learn how to hold both without guilt, and most importantly, to remember the name of the one she was holding on to now!
NINE
The evening was still warm and the expansive view from the cliff top at High Meadow opened out like a painting with the sea spreading wide and bright, the shoreline curving away into haze. Gulls circled and dipped, their shadows flitting across the rocks. The late sun slanted golden through the branches of the ancient sycamore, which seemed to hold more secrets than the spring breeze could carry. Wind chimes offered a gentle, heavenly tinkle, and the grass felt warm underfoot.
Four of the new group were already settled on the semi-circle of hay bales outside their yurts that Teo had arranged earlier. Realising one guest was missing, and noticing it was now ten past six, Zenya looked to Rita, who gave a small, steady nod. Taking her cue, Zenya lifted her gong and tapped it softly, signalling the start of the welcome circle.
Rita decided to stay seated to keep things casual. She cleared her throat.
‘Welcome, everyone. I hope you’ve settled into your temporary homes. Canvas chic, I think you’ll agree, with the best view in Cornwall, I reckon, but I am, of course, biased.’
Priya, relaxed in her pashmina pants and smock-style top, radiated a gentle, soulful energy. ‘It is like heaven on earth up here. I needed just this.’
‘Good,’ Rita replied quietly. ‘And you’re not the first to say that.’ She smiled again. ‘So, on the first night of every retreat, we like to have a little introduction. It’s a gentle way to get to know each other, so you can feel a connection during the sessions and recognise familiar faces along the way.’
A few hesitant smiles flickered around the circle. Davie checked his phone.
Zenya rose slowly, her voice soft and encouraging. ‘I know it’s hard not to keep checking your devices, but while you’re here, why not take a little break from the norm? Other guests have found it really helpful.’
Davie let out a huff. ‘That’s if I ever get signal up here!’ He shoved his phone back into his pocket.
Rita regarded him knowingly. ‘No pressure, but we’d love you to introduce yourselves. Just your name, maybe why you’re here or what you hope to get from the retreat. Or simply just sit and listen if that feels enough. No judgement here.’
Mr Broad-Shoulders was first to shift. He had that rumpled, endearing look, messy brown hair, an un-ironed T-shirt, and a pair of indigo jeans that fitted him perfectly. His grin, despite being warm, didn’t quite mask the sadness lodged in his deep blue eyes.
‘I’m Cass.’ His northern accent suited him, Rita thought. ‘Twenty-seven. Carpenter, work on big housing sites, mostly.’ He blew out a long breath, chest rising and falling as if bracing himself.
‘Take your time,’ Zenya murmured.
His eyes shimmered. ‘Shit… I don’t cry. What’s happening here?’
Davie reached across and squeezed Cass’s shoulder. ‘Men should, and can, cry. Even my fave rapper Aitch once shed a tear onI’m a Celebrity… Get Me Out of Here. He’s a Manc, too, I think.’
A hush fell over the group, gentle and protective.
Cass nodded, then swallowed hard. ‘My best mate… he killed himself. I had no fucking clue.’ He sniffed hard. ‘And I’m struggling. It was actually me mam who found this place. Insisted she drove me down, all the way from home.’ His voice cracked. ‘She read the reviews, said it might help. But…’ He looked to the sky to try and quell his emotions. ‘But… I don’t know how.’
Rita felt her throat tighten. The sheer, quiet power of a mother’s love, still guiding him even now, hit her hard. She sent Cass a warm, steady look and silently vowed to help him honour the courage, care and intuition his mum had shown in sending him here.
Rita nodded, encouraging. ‘Thank you, Cass. That’s a great place to start.’
‘I’ll get it over with,’ the woman with the unruly mop of red hair declared, her artfully draped scarf tumbling over her flowery summer dress. ‘I’m Odette Wilder, old enough to know better. Three husbands to mention. Last divorce so messy, I’d rather date one of your goats than look at another male creature ever again.’
‘TheOdette Wilder?’ Priya chipped in, intrigued, then adding enthusiastically, ‘As in the author ofThe Shadowfire Chronicles, the best cult fantasy trilogy of its time.’
‘¡Madre mía!’ Teo practically bounced off his hay bale. ‘My Jude, he will love to meet a real-life bestselling author.’
Odette shook her head with a wry smile. ‘Not sure I’m bestselling anymore. It’s been years since I topped the book charts. My bloody imagination’s been on holiday.’
Rita intervened. ‘Bestseller or no bestseller, we are thrilled to have you here, Odette.’
The redhead smiled as Rita continued, ‘And talking of Jude, he is the bookseller at Sail Away down in the harbour, which is so worth a visit. Plus, during your stay, you will find books in your bedside table drawer for your reading or gifting pleasure.’
Odette then scowled. ‘Let’s hope whatever is on offer might kick-start fifteen years of bloody writer’s block.’
Teo puffed out his chest. ‘I promise we will all releasemuchohere.’
