‘Promises, promises,chico,’ Davie quipped as he looked the handsome Spaniard up and down.
Everybody laughed, bar Rita, not daring to think what the rule breaker might get up to on a wild cliff top in Cornwall.
Once they had settled again, Rita turned to Priya and smiled.
‘How about you?’
‘I’m Priya.’ Her voice was low and measured. ‘I turn fifty next year. Big life change time for me. I was a social worker, working with kids, for many years. I left that last year to retrain as a reflexologist.’ She paused. ‘I’m still learning, so if anyone wants to be a guinea pig?’ She paused. ‘Sorry, Rita, that may have been out of turn.’
Rita’s eyes sparkled. ‘Not at all, I would love a session myself.’
‘Wonderful.’ Zenya broke the silence. ‘Such a healing and generous path, thank you, Priya.’
‘Yes.’ The woman looked thoughtful, before blurting, ‘My wife left me, you see. Ran off with our cleaning lady. Said I cared too much about everyone else and not enough about myself.’
Davie stifled a laugh. Odette glared at him.
‘So, I’m here to try and… well, lighten up a bit and find some happiness for me.’
‘Thank you for sharing and a huge welcome to you, Priya. I hope you find what you are looking for here at the retreat,’ Rita replied sincerely.
Davie shifted on his hay bale, giving the group a lopsided grin. ‘My turn!’ he trilled, his face brightening for a moment. ‘So… I’m Davie, and I’m stuck between who I am and who I’m supposed to be. TV’s a shiny carrot, but the trolls… they’re sucking the life out of me.’
He paused, swallowing hard. ‘I’m all for men crying. I just… I’ve never cried about this. Never even admitted how much it gets to me. And I think… if I started, I’m scared I wouldn’t stop.’ His voice wobbled. ‘I’d hate them to see it. The keyboard warriors, I mean.’
Rita, realising there was a lot going on for the lad, said quietly, ‘Like I’ve said before, there’s no judgement here.’
The group fell quiet for a heartbeat. Then Davie gave a small, rueful shrug, half embarrassed, half relieved to have said it aloud. A few heads tilted in sympathy, Priya offered an encouraging smile, and even Odette’s hard-looking face softened.
Davie let out a shaky breath, then lifted his voice. ‘Anyway… because I clearly haven’t talked about myself enough yet’ – a ripple of laughter from the group – ‘I’m from down the road in Devon. Twenty-six, professional reality-TV disaster… well, former disaster. Was onLove Chalet, if you’ve heard of it. My agent insisted I come here to… detox.’ He made a face. ‘Detox? Green juice, yoga, all things I normally avoid. They said apparently losing a few pounds might be good for my “brand”.’ He made quotation marks in the air with his fingers. ‘Whatever that even means!’ He put this hand on his protruding belly. ‘But me? I quite like being a bear. Been told I should inject some weight loss drugs in me like every other fat bugger seems to be doing. But I’m not touching any of it, don’t trust it.’ He thengrinned. ‘I think I might just head down and spend my time in the bay with Betty and her buns. By the sound of it she and I could be unstoppable.’
The laughter from the group hid the soft shuffle of footsteps behind them. Wearing a thin-strapped sundress, with hair falling in golden waves over her shoulders and trendy spectacles perched on her nose, Imogen carried herself with effortless poise. She paused at the edge of the circle, scanning the group with sharp, appraising eyes, then sat carefully on a hay bale.
‘Sorry I’m late. Not so great with happy-clappy group energy… so please bear with me.’
Rita nodded gently to indicate it was her turn to speak.
‘You already know I’m Imogen. Work in HR. From London. Burnt out, so needed to retreat.’ She offered a polite, faint smile.
Rita waited for more, but nothing came. ‘Welcome, Imogen.’ She took in the woman before her and concurred with Zenya that her eyes held no light and she certainly had a presence that was hard to read.
Rita stood, raising her voice. ‘OK. Thank you all for coming tonight and for being so open. I’m delighted you’re all here and hope you’ll make the most of the facilities and get what you need from the retreat. Dinner’s at seven thirty, back down in the café. Zenya’s made a deliciously spicy vegetable biryani, if any of you fancy it. And Teo will be conducting a moon stretch in the orchard afterwards.’
A few murmurs of thanks floated around the circle. Davie gave a lazy thumbs-up, Priya smiled quietly, and Imogen’s unreadable smile was barely visible.
Teo and Zenya lingered behind, making sure everyone had what they needed, checking that no one was left out or confused.
Sliding into her Jimny to head back down to the farmhouse, Rita was suddenly overcome by a surge of excitement at what she had created right here in her home at Seahaven Bay.Her new life was at last taking shape. She was running a successful business; she was making her own living. The farm and farmhouse were slowly getting the facelift they so massively needed. She was thinking clearly about moving forward with a man who adored her and most of all, she felt that the huge cloud of grief that had initially enveloped her was dissolving to make way for a sky of happiness. Wishing that this enthusiasm and feeling of hope would never wane, she stopped off at the chickens to lock them in their coop for the night.
TEN
The next morning Rita woke to her six a.m. alarm with a queasy twist in her stomach. Groaning, she clutched the duvet and tried to ride it out. Illness was thelastthing she had time for, not with a retreat in full swing. She reached for the water on her bedside table, grimacing as a strange, metallic tang hit her tongue, then bolted for the en-suite.
She barely made it before throwing up.
Fantastic, she thought, bracing against the sink. Guests to check on, breakfast to organise, goats and chickens waiting to be fed… absolutely not the day to be sick. Rita wiped her mouth, took a steadying breath, and had just flicked the shower on to warm when her phone rang.
‘Morning, Mum! Just checking in and I wanted to ask you something.’
