Chapter 40
FORTY
Seahaven Bay’s surf beach was bathed in light by the full moon suspended in the ink-black sky.
Its glow spilled across the ocean in a glistening ribbon, while waves murmured gently as they curled onto the shore.
A warm, salt-laced summer breeze drifted in, carrying the unmistakable scent of the sea.
The fire pit Rita had built crackled softly as the hush of approaching footsteps drifted over the sand. Head torches bobbed like curious fireflies in formation as her moonlit crew arrived.
‘Welcome to moonlight mantras,’ Zenya declared, raising her glass of fizz to the starlit sky. ‘And for our very last one, Earth’s lantern is a full one at its best.’
Annie tilted her head to the sky, her thick blonde curls catching the moonlight. ‘Has anyone ever wondered who the Man in the Moon actually is? Like… was he dumped up there for doing something awful? I’ve never read up on it, you know.’
Zenya smiled. ‘There are a load of legends. Some say he was caught stealing firewood on a holy day and got booted up there as punishment. Others reckon he’s just a lonely soul with a lamp and a long memory.’
Michael grinned. ‘Annie, maybe he’s your type. Aloof, distant, no emotional availability.’
‘And absolutely no chance of texting back,’ Annie sighed. ‘Ideal, actually.’
Laughter bubbled around the fire pit as Michael placed his hand on Annie’s, and they shared a warm smile. ‘Well, whoever he is, he’s shining his face off tonight.’ Zenya took a sip of bubbles from her paper cup. ‘Is that everyone?’ Zenya looked to Rita, who nodded.
‘Yes, just our five lovely guests, you, me and the wonderful Teo.’
‘Yeah,’ Teo piped up. ‘Jude said he’d leave us to it tonight. He’s catching up on his reading, deep in a new rom-com. He loves it. Said romantic comedy is a highly underrated genre and who am I to get in the way of his main passion.’
‘OK, let’s start then,’ Zenya enthused. ‘As usual, no phones, no expectations. Just stars, snacks, a slurp of champagne and hopefully some helpful revelations.’
‘Don’t all pass out.’ Michael puffed out his chest. ‘But I’m sticking to the zero beers tonight.’
Everybody gave a rousing cheer.
The group’s newfound closeness was unmistakable as they lounged across sandy blankets, comfortable with each other in the way that only a month of shared hikes, honesty, mealtimes and the occasional shower queue could create.
‘OK, you lovely lot. Let’s do our check-in. Something silly or true or both. One small thing the moon should know about you tonight.’
Lola lifted her voice. ‘I’ll start. Before I came here, my entire life was TikTok transitions and trying to get the right aesthetic for my Insta grid.
I spent more time filming my life than living it.
I was so in it. So deep, I didn’t realise how addicted I’d become.
This place… helped me come up for air. Taught me it’s OK not to be “on” all the time.
That being present, in the real, messy, not-filtered world, is actually kind of beautiful, so thank you. ’
‘That’s gorgeous.’ Zenya took a long slow breath from her tummy. ‘Let’s all breathe that one out.’
A measured intake of breath and a raising of cups followed.
Rita took the champagne bottle from the cool bag, topping people up with a grin that masked how emotionally knackered she was feeling.
‘I’ve written a song,’ Paul piped up, clearing his throat. ‘It’s called “Retreat”, and yes, Rita, it’s all thanks to you.’
Rita, eyes brimming, put her hand to her heart. ‘Paul, I don’t know what to say and I can’t wait to hear it.’
Emily raised her hand like a kid at school.
‘So, uh… I’m not going back home. To the difficult life I had before.
Sorry, all, but I told a little lie that work had sent me here.
I’d actually quit.’ Rita felt a swell of pride that the young woman had finally found the courage to share her truth with everyone.
‘Glanna, you know the cool artist, well, she’s asked me if I’d like to work for her in Ferry Lane Market, help with her exhibitions, and start painting again properly. And I said YES!’
Everybody cheered. Michael mock-clutched his chest. ‘A new start, oh, how we love that.’
Annie giggled from beneath the blanket she was now sharing with the divorce lawyer. ‘I’ve decided I’m done with fuckboys and younger men. Yes, I want a man with a pension, but he has to be funny, kind, steady, the kind who knows what it means to show up, and at least be able to boil an egg.’
Michael raised a knowing brow. ‘I do make a marvellous eggs Benedict, my dear.’
They all erupted into laughter.
‘Oh, God, it’s my turn,’ Michael groaned.
‘I’ve learned how to listen. I’ve learned that alcohol doesn’t make me happy.
Quite the opposite, in fact. I’ve also learned that friendship comes in all shapes and sizes.
’ His voice wobbled. ‘What have you done to me, Seahaven Bay Retreat!’ He looked to his host. ‘Whilst we are all together, I want to thank you, Rita, and your wonderful staff for making this month such a special one.’
‘Hear, hear!’ Annie shouted, swiftly followed by the others.
‘Thank you. It’s been a pleasure getting to know you all, but we’re not done yet.’ Rita looked to Zenya, who, smiling to herself, passed round a pouch of sea-polished pebbles, the moon catching on their smoothed surfaces.
‘Same as before. Hold on to your stone. Whisper something to it or shout it if you want. Doesn’t matter. But let it mean something. Something you may want to happen or something you are ready to leave behind.’
There was a hush as the group took a moment to think.
Michael was first. ‘I’m sorry for being such a twat at the start. And middle. And occasionally last week. But I think I’m learning how not to be.’
Annie nodded solemnly. ‘I want to believe I’m worth more than how men have treated me.’
Lola cradled her pebble. ‘I want to be more present and stop trying to shrink myself. Not just physically. Emotionally too.’
Paul, softer than usual: ‘I want to stop procrastinating, finish things. Even the hard things. Like beginning to have a relationship with my daughter.’
Emily whispered, ‘I am starting to value myself and be brave enough to paint what I really feel.’
Zenya laid her pebble in the sand. ‘I want to believe I belong. Not just here. Anywhere.’
Teo looked around at them all. ‘My mamá once told me I had to visit this place. She said I’d understand why when I got here. And she was right. It felt like home the minute I met you, Rita.’
There was a brief silence. Zenya looked to Rita. ‘You don’t have to, if you don’t want to.’
Finally, Rita spoke. ‘I want to forgive and forget some of the things that are cropping up in my life. I want to trust again. To stop dragging old pain into new chapters. Just… let it go, with love, and finally move forward.’
Teo put his arm over Rita’s shoulders as, one by one, they walked down to the shoreline and threw their stones into the sea.
Just then, Jude quietly appeared beside Teo, head torch on, and threw his stone to the ocean. Teo grinned and reached for his hand, their fingers lacing easily.
‘I thought you were reading.’
‘I was,’ Jude murmured. ‘But I didn’t want to miss this chapter. I’m not lonely anymore.’ His voice wobbled.
Teo bumped his shoulder gently. ‘And I feel settled in myself…’ He paused. ‘I know, is crazy early, sí? But Jude Finch… I think I fall a little bit in love with you already.’
Jude blinked, his mouth opening just slightly, but before he could speak, a few soft guitar chords drifted across the sand.
Paul, sitting cross-legged by the fire, began to play. His fingers moved with quiet certainty. No one interrupted. No one needed to. The time was right. One by one, everyone sat back down by the fire and listened.
Paul’s voice rose, low, smoky, hopeful somehow as he sang the heart out of his new ballad.
‘I came here with pieces I’d hidden away
Old ghosts in my backpack, too heavy to stay
But the sea didn’t ask me for reasons or proof
Just gave me the tide and a place to tell truth.’
He raised his voice as he reached the chorus.
‘So, here’s to the quiet, the brave and the broken
To words and hopes, now finally spoken
We found something real, in the salt and the sand
And I’m not who I was when I first came to land.’
Paul’s voice hitched as he continued with the second verse.
‘The nights felt like stories we wrote in the dark.
Each laugh lit a lantern, each tear left a mark
We’re strangers no longer, not here, not tonight
We’re stitched into starlight, and holding on tight.’
The group started swaying and moving in their own personal ways as the melody hit them. Then a few hums to the chorus.
‘So, here’s to the quiet, the brave and the broken,
To words and hopes now finally spoken.
We found something real, in the salt and the sand
And I’m not who I was when I first came to land.’
As the final chorus arrived everyone in the group joined in.
‘So, here’s to the quiet, the brave and the broken,
To words and hopes, now finally spoken.
We found something real, in the salt and the sand
And I’m not who I was when I first came to land
No, I’m not who I was… and I think I understand.’
As they made their way back to the car park, the hum of the chorus still soft on everyone’s lips, Rita lingered a step behind.
The moonlit sand stretched ahead, quietly lighting her path.
For the first time in a long while, she felt ready to face what was unfolding around her.
And maybe, just maybe, it was time to start making her hopes for the future come true.