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We cross to the small hall, whose doors are standing open to admit the bright July sunshine. Inside are about eight women who are leaving their bags and shoes at the back of the hall and making their way to the yoga mats at the front. The instructor stands facing them, greeting everyone as they approach.
“Sarah, this is Heidi,” Vicky says as we walk up, “she’s staying with me, and I said she could come with me this morning, hope that’s okay.”
“Of course!” Sarah smiles. “Everyone’s welcome.”
Vicky pushes my purse away and hands over the money, and we find two mats not far from the door. Sunlight falls through the high windows in gold bars across us, and the air smells of herbs and the roses growing by the door.
“We might as well get started,” Sarah says. “Let’s begin with a warmup, and then we’ll do the sun salutation.”
As I stretch and move and hold the asanas, I think about how much I’d miss England if I were to move back to New Zealand. Not wanting to spoil my time here, though, I push the thought away and concentrate on stretching my muscles and trying to relax. As the class winds down, Sarah instructs us to lie insavasanaor the corpse pose for meditation, and she tells us to picture ourselves in a place that makes us happy. I think about my cottage, and the greenhouse where I watch the stars, but as she talks quietly, guiding us through the meditation, my mind instead drifts to the bedroom this morning, to being awoken by Titus’ soft kisses, and the way he pleasured me so easily with his mouth.
I’m glad we’ve managed to steal this time together. I know it’s not going to be easy to say goodbye to him when it’s time to part, but I don’t regret it. He’s shown me that it is possible to meet a guy who can make me feel good about myself rather than always putting me down, and for that I’ll always be thankful.
*
Just before one o’clock, I’m lying in the sunken bath, surrounded by bubbles, when there’s a knock on the bathroom door. “Heidi?” Titus calls.
“Come in.”
The door opens, and he peers around the corner. Eyebrows rising, he comes in.
I lift a soapy leg up and wave a foot. “Hello.”
He chuckles and leans against the wall, hands in the pockets of his shorts. “Have a nice morning?” he asks.
“I did, thank you. You?”
“Yeah, amazing. Caught several trout.”
“Oh, fantastic!”
“It really was. Such a beautiful river, and it was a gorgeous day.” His gaze lingers on me, watching the bubbles rising slowly, rainbow-colored in the sunlight. “Talking of beautiful…” He smiles.
I blow some bubbles from my hand at him. “Want to join me?”
“I’m a bit fishy.”
“Perfect place to wash it off.”
“That’s true. Well, if you don’t mind.” He turns to go back into the bedroom.
“No, strip off here,” I instruct.
He turns back wryly, and I wait for him to argue, but instead he toes off his shoes, grabs a handful of his T-shirt by the back of the neck and pulls it over his head, then undoes his shorts and steps out of them. Finally he takes off his underwear, then he steps down into the bath and lowers himself into the water.
It’s a big bath, with the tap in the middle, and we sit at either end. He puts some gel in a hand, slides under the surface to soak his hair, washes it, then ducks again to rinse it. He emerges wet and glistening, the water running off his tanned skin.
“Slightly less fishy now,” he says.
I smile, my gaze lingering on his shining tattoos. “How’s Alan?”
“Good. He brought tea and cheese-and-pickle sandwiches for a snack.”
I laugh. “Very English.”
“Yeah. We had a chat while we took a break.”
“Did you get the third degree?”
