Zara stands by the window and beckons me over. I walk over, clutching my mug, and look down at Jess whose face is the colour of a light-green turtle. Ben has his back to us and is leant over Jess’s hands which are outstretched on a small table with a cushion on top. I smile.
‘When we went down for breakfast, Ben had cooked. Obviously. But he’d also made homemade face masks for us, all natural. He’d cut up cucumber slices for our eyes too. He laid out towels and he’s given me a manicure,’ she says, holding up her perfectly pink nails.
I grab Zara’s hands in mine in disbelief. ‘He did that? That’s decent. Cuticles and everything?’
‘Ben likens it to decorating cakes. He’s got a steady hand. He did my feet before too. You should have seen the dry skin that came off them. It was like he was grating Parmesan,’ she says, grimacing.
‘He’s a man of many hidden talents,’ I mumble, watching him from the window.
‘If I might be so bold to say so: he does care, you know? He’s spent a lot of this morning looking up to your balcony to see signs of movement. Smiling when we mention your name.’
‘Really?’ I ask. ‘Do you know what he did last night? He ran me a bath and looked after me. He stayed here until I fell asleep and held my hand.’ I think back to sitting next to Ben on thatbean bag outside, enjoying the romance and magic of an outdoor film. A night of being swept up in twinkling lights and having him near, gently tracing his fingers against mine as a reminder he was close, that he was thinking of what had transpired earlier that day.What a day of absolute fucking contrasts.
‘That’s because he’s a big bloody sweetheart, isn’t he?’ Zara says. ‘I’m glad he was there for you. I think this morning’s impromptu spa treatments are so he can make amends, make you feel better. I don’t know what’s in the face mask but my cheeks are as smooth as a baby’s booty.’ She makes me stroke her glowing complexion before she gets my robe from the chair in the corner of the room. ‘Come on, kiddo. Let’s get some sun on your face and make this all feel better.’ She puts the robe over my shoulders and hands me a pair of sunglasses and some towelling slippers. ‘I have a feeling he may have stolen these from a hotel but they complete the look.’
Zara threads her arm through mine and walks me down the stairs, out into the light and warmth of the patio. I flinch at the brightness of it all.
‘I have another customer for you, Ben. She’s in desperate need of a mani,’ Zara announces.
I glance down at my half-bitten nails. I don’t usually go for any pampering, mainly because I’m scared of nail bars and sometimes I wonder how people with super-long acrylics wipe their own bums. I look at Ben who stands there with a towel across his arm, smiling to see me.
‘CHLOE!’ Jess says, trying not to move her face too much because of the face mask in situ. ‘You’re up!’
Ben walks up to us. ‘Hi, welcome to my nail shop. Take a seat. Would madame like a hot drink or a magazine while she waits?’
I notice a pile of magazines next to the tables, along with some lit incense sticks, and I smile at the cuteness of what he’s trying to achieve. I don’t answer but I’m mildly amused that he’swearing a white T-shirt and shorts, and that he bows slightly to welcome me on to the patio. He’s only a hat away from looking quite nautical.
I manage a grin. ‘I was told there were face masks,’ I say.
‘There are. No one’s tried the turmeric and honey one yet if you’d like to be the first? Take a pew and I’ll bring it over.’
Zara returns to her sun lounger leaving Ben and me standing alone for a moment.
‘Good morning. Are you OK?’
He smiles, but I can also see the concern in his face. I never blamed him for any of it, and I feel bad that last night was punctuated with so much silence that would have made him worry. ‘It is what it is. Thank you for last night.’For yesterday, for all of it. Can we hug? Do we hug? Because you give excellent hugs. But I think this might be against the spa rules.
‘You’re welcome. Give me a moment. While you wait, maybe you’d like to choose a colour for your manicure?’ He hands me a case: there are only five colours and I grin.
Ben, although it weighs heavily into the stereotype, this is why we thought you were gay.I run my fingers over the bottles inside.
‘If I can be so bold,’ he says.‘I like the yellow. It’s bright, it would suit you. The lady deserves some sunshine.’ He reaches over and squeezes my hand without saying a word. I run my thumb along the inside of his palm and squeeze back.
25
DAY FOUR
BEN
When my sisters have issues with work, marriage, kids, money, their health, there is always obvious frustration. The way they let go is by doing many things. They have a bath. They book a spa day. It’s like some magical formula that straightens things out. The baths I’m familiar with from living with them as a teenager: they would be lengthy. I’d usually have to interrupt, asking them not to hog the hot water and afterwards I’d wonder why it smelt like our nan’s downstairs bathroom. But with spas, I never really knew what was happening. Only that they always came back renewed with a dewy finish to their complexions and ready to take on the world again. It was a sisterly tradition that I never partook in but once, Norah came back with big circular burn patterns on her back.Cupping, apparently.
Feeling inspired to recreate a spa experience this morning, I Googled cupping and a lot of strange things came up. However, other searches came back with activities I could do. I could whip up face masks and some detox-style smoothies, light some incense, play some chillout music and paint their nails. I didn’t tell them that I know how to do this because I trained myselfas a teen. My sisters used to give me a fiver for each manicure and sometimes bring their friends round too. It was a great side hustle.
So armed with all this knowledge, I went into town this morning and bought supplies. And I bought another melon for Chloe. I also picked up some more sunflowers for her room. It pained me to see her so unhappy yesterday when she received that awful news. I knew a bath might help but I didn’t know how to make her see that losing her job at that horrific practice could be a good thing. As much as she may consider it a failure, it was also a way to find a job that recognised her worth. So face masks it was, and slippers, which I found in a box in the villa that I think Uncle Lorenzo may have bagged from a nearby Holiday Inn.
‘How is that?’ I ask Chloe as she lies back on a sun lounger and I apply a face mask to her forehead and cheeks. I glance at her leg bent at the knee, cocked up, and her dressing gown reveals more than it should. I shouldn’t look. The last thing she needs now is me going in from that angle. That came out wrong in my own head. I guess she doesn’t need me to complicate matters or try and solve this with sex. Just give her space and time.
‘It’s lovely,’ she says, her eyes closed. ‘You made these?’
