‘An excellent idea,’ he says, smiling at me. His eye contact is so sparkly that I wonder whether to dunk myself under the water again.
Instead, I watch Zara as she literally skips up the pool stairs towards the food, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around her waist. She looks at everything laid out and then turns back to Ben curiously. ‘I’ll ask the question again…you’re telling me this is going to happen every day?’ she asks.
‘Well, I need to feed you and I’m not going to cook any old rubbish,’ Ben says frankly. ‘You’re on an island. I’ll visit the markets daily and see what’s on offer. It’ll be an ever-evolving feast.’
Zara’s bottom lip pops out emotionally and she reaches over to give Ben a massive hug. ‘God, I love you.’ He reluctantly returns the embrace, pulling a ‘help’ face at Jess from over her shoulder. ‘Now you’re going to think I’m weird.’
‘I’ve also got emotional about this ham before, so I get it,’ Ben replies.
Zara smiles and takes a slice. As she chews, she rolls her eyes back in her head and does a little happy dance on the spot,pulling over one of the iron chairs and putting a protective hand over the food. ‘It’s awful, girls. I think you’d hate it.’
I laugh as she takes a wedge of orange, already eyeing up what she’ll have next. ‘I don’t think you understand, Ben. This isn’t what a holiday usually looks like for me.’
‘You don’t eat on holiday?’ Ben asks Zara.
‘I do but it’s usually food I’ve cooked. I’m usually the one cutting the fruit, telling my kids to eat it to counteract all the effects of the Pringles they’ve inhaled.’ She takes a moment to absorb that statement. ‘But I don’t think I’ve had a holiday in a long time where I was just able to sit down and eat on my own. Jess will understand. Even when the kids are bigger, you’re still sharing your plate, you’re sitting and making sure everyone else is happy.’
Jess nods as Zara cuts herself a large piece of cheese. ‘Even when we go out to restaurants, I’m on Google trying to find somewhere that will accommodate everyone’s food preferences. I’ve booked the table, I’ve had to convince my sons that sliders are not acceptable evening footwear, I’ve pleaded with my daughter to put her phone away, I’m worrying about the bill because my sons can now literally eat a whole chicken each so I have a salad. I never get too drunk. I never truly relax. Every day on holiday, it’s like that. What are we all going to bloody eat today?’ Zara’s eating voraciously as she talks but she hasn’t noticed that her little rant has silenced us all. ‘Sorry…too much?’ she mumbles through a mouthful of bread, looking at us all sheepishly.
‘Let it all out, girl,’ I tell her, amused by this person that I hardly know.
Zara smiles broadly, glad to be heard out. ‘Did you make this bread?’
Ben laughs and nods. ‘Try it dipped in the olive oil.’
She holds her hands to the air. ‘It’s just nice to not have to think about everyone else’s meals for a change. It’s nice for a person to bring delicious food to you unprompted.’
‘Doesn’t your husband do that?’ Ben asks.
‘Oh, I love Mike to bits but if he’s bringing me anything, it’s usually a glass of wine and some nuts. Sometimes he’ll even put them in a bowl,’ Zara jokes, but beneath her humour, something tells me that her sanity and patience when it comes to her family are hanging on by a thread. ‘So, for this…all of this, I am grateful. Truly. I already feel very relaxed being here.’
Jess and I are quiet for a moment. Despite my lingering reservations, there has something about being on the plane, escaping the routine of work and seeing the sky get brighter and warmer that made me realise this was all necessary. It almost feels like someone has plugged every cell in my body into charge. And I’m sad that I thought taking a holiday was a bad thing, as if stopping and resting was a weakness or an extravagance. I notice Ben looking at all of us, in turn, his eyes creasing, as if he’s trying to figure out this collective confusion that we all seem to feel from being thrown together. We all need to be here but don’t yet understand how to be fully present.
‘Well, ladies – you are so very welcome. I hope you get the chance to…chill. Jess, aren’t you tempted by the pool yet?’ Ben asks.
She smiles at him and shakes her head. ‘Maybe later.’
He looks over at me again but can’t quite get the words out before shifting his gaze over to Zara. ‘So today I’ll leave you be. Please use the pool and relax.’
‘Will there be any other activities?’ Zara asks. ‘Is there a timetable?’
His eyes dart from side to side. ‘We’ll play today by ear. Happy to lead a walk if you want to explore the area? Or we can drive to the beach? I’ll serve dinner outside at about seven.’
Zara wriggles her shoulders up and down, placing a large, bulbous olive in her mouth as Ben gets up from the table, heading into the kitchen. Jess stands up to pour herself another sangria. My gaze follows Ben and I see him stop for a moment and rest his hands against the countertop, bending down and exhaling slowly. I can’t quite read his expression but he looks thoughtful, tired. I heave myself out of the pool and pull out a towel to dry myself, heading towards the large wooden doors of the kitchen.
‘Ben, I just…’ But as I push the door open, I see Ben in the process of taking his shirt off. He’s still in his shorts so he hasn’t gone Miguel-level naked, but he turns.Oh. Where the hell has that been hiding? He has abs.Don’t stare at him like some piece of meat. I shift my gaze to the giant hock of ham next to him.
‘Shit. Sorry,’ he says, turning around.
‘Why did you turn around?’ I say, laughing.
I can see his shoulders shaking. ‘I guess to appear more professional. You don’t go to a restaurant and see the maître d’ just whipping his shirt off.’
‘Depends on the type of establishment you’re frequenting,’ I say, smiling. ‘We saw Miguel this morning so nothing can shock me now.’
He turns slowly. ‘It’s just bloody boiling. I was going to ask to get in the pool but I think that crosses a line.’ I notice his stomach shining slightly with sweat and I feel a gulp land in my stomach.
‘It’s a swimming pool, not a bath.’ I laugh. His face, for one small moment, relaxes and it’s a relief to see that. ‘Plus, we’re all in swimsuits so I don’t think modesty should be an issue,’ I say.
