‘I was hot. I’m not sure about her though. She’s feisty, she doesn’t suffer fools,’ I reply, thinking that my dear sister might relate to this character description.
‘What’s her name? I’m going to stalk her on the socials.’
‘Maybe that’s something you should all have done before you sent these three random women to me. Her name is Chloe Raymond.’
‘On it,’ she tells me and I hear fingers clicking along her keyboard.
‘She’s petite, mousey hair, brown eyes. She’s pretty,’ I say.
Norah stops typing. ‘Oh, she is, is she?’
‘Norah, it’s not like that. Behave. She’s hard work. I’m just telling you that she has a nice face. They all have nice faces,’ I say, annoyed that she’s trying to stir shit up. But Chloe is pretty. She has big eyes like chocolate buttons and the sun has broughtout her freckles. I shouldn’t tell Norah anything else for fear of interference, but also because it’s unprofessional to be attracted to my guests. Plus, my ego is bruised: that cat has never taken a liking to me despite me once buying her fresh sardines.
‘Alright then. But don’t let her give you crap. Any rudeness to the staff and we move her out,’ Norah says defensively. ‘Now tell me, how’s the day gone besides that?’
I puff out my cheeks and sigh. Mainly out of fatigue and the heat. I’ve been up since five. I’ve cooked and washed up and folded towels and I think Zara has drunk enough sangria to fill a bath.
‘OK. They like my cooking,’ I tell her.
‘Your cooking is very good. It’s your most redeeming feature,’ she informs me.
‘Not my winning personality and dazzling but authentic smile?’
‘Well, not so much,’ she replies, cackling.
This is why we all love Norah. She’s honest to a fault, she will shut down your bullshit and get straight to the point, but it’s done with humour and care.
‘We had some lovely monkfish for dinner and I made a flan-style dessert with strawberries. They all seem to be getting on,’ I say.
‘What did pretty Chloe wear to dinner?’ she asks.
A black slip dress and green earringsI recall, but I don’t say this out loud. ‘Nothing. We were all naked, Norah. Being at one with nature.’
‘You’re funny.’
Running over the first day in my mind, I think it went OK. The women spent most of the day by the pool napping, reading and listening to music. When the sky started to fade, and after they’d freshened up for dinner, I charmed them with my most redeeming feature as well as a poolside patio lined with candlesand fairy lights. I think they all liked the monkfish. Chloe smelled hers first and flaked it apart with her fork. Zara said the most impressive thing I did was to invite them all to be sprayed down with insect repellent so they could enjoy the outdoor setting.
I wipe down the cooker but suddenly I hear someone in the pool again. I look out the kitchen shutters, hoping Miguel hasn’t paid us another visit, but instead I see that Jess has finally made it into the water. She is doing a light backstroke, the lights illuminating her from below. I’m pleased that she’s finally cooling off but my heart also aches slightly to know why she’s only made it in the pool now after a very long and sweaty day.
‘I have a question actually,’ I say to Norah, switching my focus back to our conversation.
‘Shoot.’
‘Don’t take this the wrong way but after you had your girls, your body changed, didn’t it?’ I ask.
‘Benny, you were witness to most of it. Yes. I went from a blimp to a marshmallow to some sort of deflated balloon. Such is life. You ask this why?’
‘Just because…’ I watch as Jess exits the pool and almost runs to a sun lounger to get a towel and wrap it around her before scampering over to the door that leads upstairs to her room. ‘I never saw you lose yourself, your confidence though.’
Norah goes quiet for a moment. ‘Well, that’s not to say it didn’t kill me on the inside. It takes a while to get used to your own skin, to realise that your body did a marvellous thing. It’s important to be patient with it but you know me…So I’ve got a FUPA, I can live with that.’
‘You have a what?’
She sighs. ‘It pains me to say this out loud, Benny. A fat upper pussy area.’
‘Jesus Christ. Did you come up with that?’ I ask her.
‘Oh, do shut up. It’s a thing,’ she says bluntly. ‘I’m guessing there’s a woman there that this connects to?’ she asks.
