Chapter Two
Ella
Ella pushed her sopping hair back from her face, flinging water droplets through the air like bullets. She could hardly breathe through the rain pouring from the skies. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d done so much exercise either, never mind while lugging two giant suitcases and battling the elements.
Where are the staff?
Since Duarte had dropped her and Pauline by the dock what felt like a lifetime ago, she’d not seen another soul. The Portuguese captain had barely spoken a word of English, as demonstrated by his misunderstanding of the words “slow down” as he careened over the choppy waves. Not only did Ella’s undercooked plane panini threaten to resurface, but she’d also lost her favourite wide-brimmed summer hat to the North Atlantic ocean.
Duarte’s manic laughter had temporarily drowned out the sound of Pauline, though; the fifty-something brunette had been crying non-stop since they boarded the flight in Manchester. Ella had the pleasure of being Pauline’s confidante, learning all about the woman’s recent divorce.
What a treat.
The wail of Pauline’s sobs faded as Ella stomped ahead, flip-flops slapping against the wooden slats. Surely they couldn’t be far now? Her feet ached, blisters forming between her toes as she forced herself up the incline. Had she known she’d be hiking up this hill soaked to the bone—dragging not only her hefty suitcase behind but Pauline’s, too, after the woman had struggled to carry it—she would’ve thrown herself overboard with her beautiful hat.
Maeve had said she looked like a young Audrey Hepburn in that hat.
Anger spiked up her spine. Fucking Maeve. This is all her fault.
Sandy Springs looked nothing like the pictures on the website, though Ella was struggling to see through the rain pelting her in the face. Dark, thick clouds blocked the light from the sky, making the air muggy.
Isn’t Portugal supposed to be sunny? What gives?
Her muscles burned as the walkway evened out, revealing a handful of wooden cabins through the fog and a giant “Welcome to Sandy Springs” sign hanging from two towering trees.
“Thank you, baby Jesus,” she whispered, stopping for a second to pluck her wet shirt from her skin. She couldn’t wait to sit down and neck a cocktail or six to wash this shitty day off her.
Hearing Pauline’s heavy Darth Vader breathing draw closer, Ella forced her aching feet to move and her arms to drag their cases. She’d hoped that carrying her luggage would help the woman keep up. As annoying as Pauline’s sobs were, she didn’t want her falling behind. She had shared her salt and vinegar Pringles with Ella on the plane, after all.
Ella gritted her teeth against the pain. Nearly there. Tequila sunrises await.
Her suitcase caught on a raised wooden slat, slipping out of her hand and off the path. “No!” she shouted, lunging after it and tumbling down the grassy verge headfirst, with Pauline’s suitcase falling after her. Bushes and stones scraped at her skin, poking her ribs and tangling in her hair. When she stopped rolling, landing at the bottom in a heap with Pauline’s mammoth suitcase on top of her, she screamed. She spat sand from her mouth, wiped her tongue on her arm, and spat out even more sand, then screamed again, frustration echoing through the rain and trees. Everything hurt.
She screamed at Maeve, at losing her job, at Winnie and her mother for convincing her to come on this stupid trip. She thrust a fist into the sand next to her, connecting against a rock instead.
“Fuck’s sake!” She nursed her hand between her knees, her chest aching from all the exertion.
She didn’t care anymore. She was just going to lie here in the sand until bears came to eat her. Do they even have bears in Portugal? Knowing her luck, probably not. She’d have a slow and painful exit from Earth listening to Pauline’s whining.
“Golly. Is my suitcase alright?” Pauline asked, appearing over her, mascara dripping down her pale white cheeks. “That was quite a little tumble, Ellie.”
Ella clenched her jaw, gritting more sand beneath her teeth. “I told you, it’s Ella.”
“God, I’m sorry. My mind’s been a sieve ever since the divorce with Albert.”
You don’t say. Ella wanted to cry. This wasn’t worth a lifetime’s supply of Pringles.
“Is everything alright?” a perky voice asked. “I heard screaming.”
Ella looked up to find a woman standing there, cast in shadow. “Do I look alright?” she barked. She couldn’t make out the colour of the woman’s hair in the darkness, but it fell in loose beachy waves far past her shoulders.
The woman carried on, undeterred by the venom in Ella’s tone. “Here, let me help you up.” Warm hands gripped her arms, lifting her easily to her feet. “You both picked a brilliant night to arrive. Let me guess—you’re from England?”
“Yes, we are,” Pauline jumped in.
“Ah, that explains the downpour then.”
Ella couldn’t place the accent. It sounded English but with small energetic inflections hinting at someplace else. She attempted to dust herself off, but it was useless. The water and sand had clumped together, sticking between every crack and crevice.
The woman laughed, and Ella’s head snapped round to the sound. How could this person be laughing? She could make out her profile now, her face lit by the moonlight that had appeared from behind the clouds and was glancing through the canopy.
“We wondered where you’d both gotten to,” the woman said. “Romeo was supposed to meet you at the docks, but I’m guessing something else happened.”
“I’ll tell you what happened,” Ella breathed, anger seeping into her chest. “I had the flight from hell, boarded a boat with a madman for a captain, lost my favourite hat, got caught in a torrential downpour, rubbed my feet red raw, then fell down a cliff. What part of this is supposed to be a holiday?”
Her words rang out into the night. The pitter-patter of rain against the wooden slats filled the silence that followed. At least it was slowing now.
“What was wrong with the flight?” Pauline asked.
“And a cliff is a bit of a stretch.” The woman studied Ella’s face, her eyes a dark, stormy sea. “Have you hurt yourself?”
Her feet hurt, her arms stung like she’d lost a fight with a street cat, and her entire body was cold and uncomfortable, with so much sand in her pants, she was gonna have the smoothest shave down there in years, but all she could do was sigh. The last thing she wanted was to spend hours in some wooden cabin being checked over by someone whose first-aid qualification had been purchased online. She needed a drink. A Winnie-strength extra tequila-type drink.
“I’ll survive,” she said. Her focus fell on the name badge pinned to the woman’s vest. Riley .
“There you go. Oh, here.” Riley leaned closer. “You’ve something in your hair.” With a gentle tug, she untangled a twig and discarded it. “Shall we get going? This is amazin’.” She plucked up their suitcases like they were made of candy floss and indicated for the two of them to walk.
Ella assumed she worked here and wasn’t just some nutjob roaming the island about to steal all of her underwear, so she followed her through the trees.
“How is this amazing?” she asked once they were back on the path.
“I’ve never heard of a more obvious selection of signs. Your spirit guide is leading you.”
She snorted. “My spirit guide? You’re kidding, right?”
If Ella had a spirit guide, it must be a dysfunctional drunk living in its parents’ basement, eating Coco Pops out of the box.
“I’m not kidding, Ella. It’s exciting. Discovering your spirit guide is a life-changing experience.”
“Right. Of course. Silly me.” She shook her head. “Wait. How’d you know my name?”
Riley turned to her with a grin. “Your spirit guide. They told me.”
A little shiver ran up Ella’s neck. “Really?”
She lifted up Ella’s suitcase. “No. Your name is written on here.” She grinned wider, and Ella’s neck tingled.
Must be the cold seeping into her bones.
“I’m Riley, by the way,” she said, with far too much joy. “Normally we wouldn’t meet until tomorrow, but…you know, Romeo, he often gets lost.”
Sounded like he and Blake from the office would be two peas in a pod.
Ugh. Ella didn’t want to think about her job or lack thereof. She tried to respond, but it came out as a sort of grunt. It’d been a long day.
When they walked under the giant welcome sign, and Ella saw other indications of human life, she released a chesty sigh. Soft torch lights guided the pathways, and her eyes roamed over the white wooden beach huts as the rain slid off the slanted roofs.
“How you doin’ back there?” Riley jogged back to check on Pauline.
Ella strode in front, hoping they’d hurry up, but when another wail echoed behind her, she knew Pauline had snagged the poor woman in her web. For god’s sake.
“Are we nearly there?” she asked through gritted teeth, as they passed several more huts without stopping. She’d take a flea-bitten hammock at this point, anything to stop walking.
“Actually, yes.”
Thank the lord.
“Pauline, you’re right up here.” Riley guided her up the path, unlocked the door, and then stopped to chat with her on the doorstep. Ella couldn’t make out their conversation from her point on the path, but it wouldn’t take a genius to guess it was about Albert, Pauline’s ex-husband.
She gritted her teeth. Why is this taking so long? Fucking Pauline . She spun to glare at the two of them. Riley’s sleeveless vest was soaked through, rippling with every movement and showing off her lean arm muscles. How she could still be smiling and talking to Pauline at the same time boggled her. And why wasn’t she wearing a coat? Ella decided she must be on drugs.
Finally, Pauline was gone, and Riley rejoined her.
“So, which cabin is mine?” Ella asked.
“Yours is just a little further up this hill.”
Ella groaned, seriously contemplating throwing herself down the cliff again just so she wouldn’t have to walk any more.
“Nearly there. I promise.”
“Define nearly there. ”
“See that tree with the creepy fingers? It’s right next to it.”
“Fantastic. Creepy fingers cabin.”
Riley let out a breath of laughter and, uninvited, the edges of Ella’s mouth curled.
True to Riley’s word, they reached the cabin in only twenty-eight extra steps. Ella knew because her feet throbbed in time with each one. They paused outside, the smell of rain mixing with the colourful flowers planted by the doorstep.
“Here you are, Ella.” Riley placed her suitcase down and slipped a key out of her pocket to unlock the door. “Your journey begins.”
“Is all that stuff really necessary? I can’t wait for the journey to be bloody over at this point.” She slipped off her shoes, letting out a moan at how good the cool stone floor felt against her sore feet.
“The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes.”
Ella glanced at the woman, ready to tell her where to shove her voyage of discovery, but when they locked eyes, the words caught in her throat. Riley was studying her carefully, her irises a lighter blue now that Ella could really see them. Her skin was bronzed by the sun, but the freckles coating her nose, cheeks and arms pointed to an otherwise fair complexion.
She’s actually pretty cute.
Oh, no.
Riley’s lips pulled into a smile. “Can I get you anything?”
Ella’s mind gutter-dived for a moment, thinking about Riley’s strong arms and how they might feel wrapped around her.
“I…uh…” Her hand instinctively shot to the top of her head, but any attempt to smooth her damp, bramble-filled hair into something acceptable was useless. She tore her eyes away, making a show of looking around her pristine white room. Get it together, Ella. Don’t be so desperate. “I don’t think so. Just point me in the direction of the nearest alcohol.”
“That would be approximately 600km that way,” Riley said, pointing back towards the ocean. “On the mainland.”
“What?!”
“Sandy Springs is an alcohol-free experience.”
“You have got to be kidding me.”
“I’m afraid not.”
Images of herself sunbathing on the beach, sipping pina coladas as beautiful women fanned her, dissolved in front of Ella’s eyes. “What about locals? I bet they have alcohol.” She sounded a little unhinged now, but she couldn’t tame the shrill pitch of her voice.
Riley didn’t comment but just gave a soft shake of her head.
“For god’s sake, what is this hellhole?”
To Ella’s surprise, Riley grinned, bringing out two dimples in her cheeks. Ella’s eyes were drawn to them as she squashed her mouth into an amused line .
“Senhor Arenoso strongly believes in the detox of alcohol to bring about great change, but you’ll learn more about the course tomorrow. I suggest you get some sleep. You’ve had quite an eventful day…so I’m told.” She beamed, mischief glinting in her gaze.
“Eventful is putting it lightly,” Ella grumbled, feeling her lips twitch at the corners.
“ Boa noite , Ella,” Riley said, ducking her head in a slight bow before disappearing down the path. The way her accent curled around the words made heat flush up Ella’s neck, lingering long after she’d closed the door and collapsed onto her bed.
* * *
“And your sex drive? What’s that like?”
Ella fought back a yawn, covering her mouth with her hand. “Excuse me?”
The man clicked his pen, bushy eyebrows furrowing slightly. “Do you often feel lethargic?”
Her first session with Marco Marcos, her assigned guidance counsellor for her time here, was going splendidly. He’d already highlighted her family strains, anger issues, and resistance to change. Now, he was trying to come for her love life.
“I have absolutely no issues in the bedroom department, Marco. Don’t worry about that.”
It was true she’d been a little out of practice recently, but she’d be fine once she got back in the saddle.
The older man nodded, scribbling away in his notepad. She swore his cheeks reddened underneath the dark facial hair. He pushed his dark-rimmed square glasses up his nose and clicked his pen again, drawing her attention to his hairy fingers. “I’ve noticed you seem tired. Would you like to talk about that?”
Ella huffed, peering at the clock ticking away on the opposite wall. As soon as this was over, she had free time for the rest of the day. She couldn’t wait to set her bikini free and get to the beach. It’d been too long since she’d taken a dip in the sea. “I didn’t get enough sleep,” she said, hearing the annoyed lilt in her voice. “A cockerel woke me up—”
“That’d be Bernardo.”
“Uh, Bernardo, sure. Well, anyway, he woke me up at four, then just when I got back to sleep, some idiot rang that giant bloody bell in the courtyard.”
Marco sighed, scratching at his beard. The man really was the hairiest person Ella had ever seen, even despite his shiny black head, which was reflecting the bright lights overhead. “Romeo was supposed to wait until seven for you new starters today,” he said. “He’s always getting confused.”
You don’t say.
“So, to summarise, big day, little rest. I’m sleepy.”
“Mm-hmm. And do you usually feel tired when you’re at home? Or do you feel well rested?”
What is this guy’s problem ?
“I’m mostly fine.”
“Mostly? Would you like to expand on that?”
Not really, Marco Marcos, no.
She clicked her tongue. “Life is tiring, isn’t it? Sometimes we just need a break.”
His mouth pursed, and he continued scribbling. “Interesting. Yes.”
All in all, her first day hadn’t been too shabby. Some extra hours’ sleep wouldn’t have gone amiss— damn you, Romeo —but Ella’s attempts to stay in bed and miss the introduction were denied by her rumbling tummy. Ultimately, she was glad she hadn’t missed the breakfast, because it was top tier. Steaming coffee, fresh fruit, warm bread, pastries and jams, and ice-cold juice. She’d skipped the granola in favour of more pastries, and had been seated on the other side of the room from Pauline, too— winner —barely having to make small talk with the floppy-haired man seated next to her, as the course leaders did most of the talking.
The course creator and leader, Senhor Arenoso, had opened the day with a speech that would’ve been more profound if Ella hadn’t been so focused on the flakey golden pastries melting in her mouth. Despite the heat, he was dressed decadently in a long burnt-orange kaftan, with a mix of gold and silver jewellery decorating his fingers and neckline. She’d caught the main gist of his opening lecture— reset your life, love yourself, rediscover peace and transform into a freer, better you … yadda, yadda, yadda .
The rest of the leaders had politely introduced themselves, but smiley Riley was nowhere to be seen.
Ella wasn’t sure if she’d imagined the woman as a post-traumatic stress response, but then she’d seen her name on the schedule. Yoga and surfing. That explained the strong physique, then.
Schedules were filled from six to twelve in the morning, with yoga, meditation, energy-healing workshops and various other things with names Ella couldn’t pronounce, and ended with a session with the guidance counsellor every two to three days. Afternoons offered the choice of additional activities or free time at the beach. No prizes for Ella’s preference.
Thankfully, the session with Marco Marcos drew to a close, and Ella stepped out into the hot Portuguese sun.
The sea was calling her.
She followed the grainy trail down to the beach, wincing at the blisters between her toes. The ocean was crashing, getting louder and louder, the smell of salt guiding the way to the sandy shores. Once the path ended, she removed her flip-flops and pushed her toes into the sand.
Fuck, that’s hot!
She did a little hop, skip and a jump, her thighs jiggling as she rushed past two leathery brown bodies soaking up the heat. She powerwalked towards the sea, sweat trickling down the back of her neck. The tumbling waves promised to soothe her. It’d been too long. She needed to feel the water on her skin. Ella loved the water, and a big smile took over her face as soon as she was within reach.
She dumped her bag on the sand and removed her flowery kimono, freeing her red bikini. Winnie had promised it complemented her curves instead of covering them, unlike the swimsuit Ella had originally picked out. Her rounder body shape had followed her into her thirties and still took some getting used to in the mirror. As with this trip, Ella had decided to trust her best friend, perhaps against her better judgement.
But it wasn’t as if her own decision-making had been stellar lately.
Memories of Maeve swirled around her, all long legs and sharp cheekbones: the steely glint in her eyes rooting Ella like she’d been slapped, her perfume swimming through her veins, blurring the images of their last few years together.
“You are so funny.” The memory of Maeve’s silky voice echoed in her ears as she perched on Ella’s desk, bearing down on her with curious brown eyes.
Ella had melted under the string of compliments in those early days. Ever since Maeve had got a promotion at work and moved to their floor, she’d spent an increasing amount of time at Ella’s desk. Ella felt special. Especially when drawing the curious eyes of jealous coworkers nearby.
“What are you doing tonight?” Maeve had asked, her fingertips deliberately teasing the button of her silk blouse. “I’ve got a special project that I’d love to get your opinion on if you don’t mind staying late.”
“I’d love to,” Ella had jumped in, all too quickly for the cat-and-mouse game Maeve loved to play.
“Fantastic.” Maeve’s voice lowered, dropping to that husky rasp that made Ella want to curl up on her lap and purr. “I’ll make it worth your time. I promise you.”
The image merged with their latest encounter, hitting Ella hard in the stomach. “ You mean a lot to me, Ella. I promise you.”
“No swimming today,” a young, gangly boy called from the top of the wooden lifeguard chair, pulling her from her memories. “The current is too strong.”
Ella looked him up and down, then turned back to the waves frothing and crashing against the shore, feeling a little flustered. “It looks fine to me.”
“After-effects of all the rain yesterday. Big waves. Strong current.”
She squinted under the light. The boy’s spidery legs were too long for his body, the giant structure making him look like an oversized baby in a highchair. Is this Romeo?
She glanced up and down the shoreline, spotting a stretch of white sand beyond some jagged rocks. Sheltered from view, she’d be fine to take a little dip. She really needed to clear her head. She wouldn’t go in far.
“Thank you, sir,” she said, flashing him a wink. She caught his cheeks flushing before she dashed down the beach.
At the other side of the rocks, she dumped her bag again, sweat now dotting her upper lip and eyebrows. With a child-like squeal, she strode into the shallow waves, the water embracing her hot skin like a cooling balm.
Yes. This is more like it.
She sank backwards, letting the sea buoy her. One with the water, everything relaxed. She let out a guttural sigh, squinting up against the sunshine. Then a crash of water slapped her across the face, and she spluttered, swallowing most of it as it knocked her sideways.
She scrambled, righting herself, before another wave dunked her again. Her chest tightened, struggling for breath as she tried to breach the surface. But she could no longer touch the floor. How had she ended up so far out?
Shit.
Flapping like a penguin, she fought against the current, but a strong tug sent her in the opposite direction, pulling her further down into the salty depths.