‘Nooo…’ I say, blushing slightly. ‘Like some educational thing where you have to fiddle with yourself in a circle of women. It’ll be some woman with a massive bush teaching me where my clit is.’
‘That’s a thing?’ he asks, laughing. The baby looks mildly confused.Please don’t ever let any of those words be your first sentence.
‘You think I need a sex retreat?’ I say, embarrassed. I’ve been single for a while now, investing all my energy into work but maybe George has noticed that’s come at a personal cost.
‘Well, no. But what happened to that man you brought to my birthday party last year? I didn’t even hear that you’d broken up.’
‘We broke up.’ His name was Nate and he was a chartered surveyor. He was fine but maybe that was the problem, I’m not sure you should settle for fine. It lasted mere weeks but he also had a terrible habit of talking through films, like he was giving a director’s commentary.Shush. Enjoy the escapism. Don’t scroll through IMDb and tell me every film that each actor has been in before.
‘And since then?’
Work. Pierre the drafter at the works Christmas do, a few half-arsed conversations on Hinge. Not even dates or exhilarating one-night stands. My blank face tells George as much. ‘I’m just making the point that this flyer is vague as hell,’ I say, trying to change the subject. ‘I could be signing up to anything. It could be run by a man who looks like Pedro Pascal and he might be starting a cult. I could move to Ibiza and you’d never hear from me again because I’ve become one of his wives.’
‘You’d have to wear a muumuu, make your own olive oil and dance naked under a full moon.’
‘Well, when you put it like that. I’m sold,’ I say, smiling.
George smiles back to see me break into a moment of humour. I look at the flyer again. At least they used a good font. The goats intrigue me.Are they just wandering around? Are we milking them?
‘Isn’t Ibiza very dancey and clubby though? That’s not my vibe either,’ I explain. In my current fragile state, rubbing up against lots of tranced-out clubgoers to a thudding beat does not appeal.
‘Well, what is your vibe?’ George asks me.
I don’t reply. I wish I knew.
‘Look, all I know is that it’s cheap. Jess from my baby group is going and apparently Ibiza is very pleasant at this time of year.’
‘I wouldn’t know?—’
‘That’s because you never take a holiday.’
‘You’ve made your point.’
That said, there is something about the flyer that catches my eye: it’s the small picture of the villa in the corner. The white stone of the finca, the big barn-like doors which mean that historically the building may have been used for other purposes. There is history there that appeals to my architectural eye. It’s not modern, vulgar or some eyesore on the landscape. It looks like a home, somewhere that could appeal for a short time.
‘I see the cogs whirring. You can take that flyer if you want?’ George says.
‘Perhaps.’
‘Chloe. Please. Have a break. From all of it. I beg of you,’ he pleads, looking me in the eye. It’s a moment of sincerity amid all the banter. ‘Please Aunty Chloe, we love you too much. You’re burnt out and you’ve become a smoking, charred shell of your former self,’ he says, reverting to a strange baby voice. ‘We need you to come back rested and full of beans again. If we don’t have you, who will draw giraffes for us? Daddy can’t draw giraffes for shit.’
‘Baby Thomas, did you just say the word “shit”?’ I ask, playfully aghast.
‘Yeah!’ George replies, still in his weird baby voice. ‘I also want Pedro Pascal as an uncle. Make it happen, pretty please.’
‘Well, since you asked so nicely…’
4
JULY
BEN
‘Phoebe, repeat all of that back to me now, slowly. You put whose face on the flyers?’ I ask her over the phone.
‘I thought we needed a good USP for the villa and Pedro Pascal is the man of the moment and Miguel said you looked like him. You know, from certain angles – in his earlyGames of Thronesdays maybe – there is a passing resemblance…if you’ve had a drink and are far away?’
‘And don’t have eyes! Phoebe! That’s false advertising. You can’t use his image to promote the villa and the retreat. People are going to show up here and demand refunds.’
