Chapter 9
NINE
The evening was still warm and the expansive view from the cliff top at High Meadow opened out like a painting with the sea spreading wide and bright, the shoreline curving away into haze.
Gulls circled and dipped, their shadows flitting across the rocks.
The late sun slanted golden through the branches of the ancient sycamore, which seemed to hold more secrets than the spring breeze could carry.
Wind chimes offered a gentle, heavenly tinkle, and the grass felt warm underfoot.
Four of the new group were already settled on the semi-circle of hay bales outside their yurts that Teo had arranged earlier.
Realising one guest was missing, and noticing it was now ten past six, Zenya looked to Rita, who gave a small, steady nod.
Taking her cue, Zenya lifted her gong and tapped it softly, signalling the start of the welcome circle.
Rita decided to stay seated to keep things casual. She cleared her throat.
‘Welcome, everyone. I hope you’ve settled into your temporary homes. Canvas chic, I think you’ll agree, with the best view in Cornwall, I reckon, but I am, of course, biased.’
Priya, relaxed in her pashmina pants and smock-style top, radiated a gentle, soulful energy. ‘It is like heaven on earth up here. I needed just this.’
‘Good,’ Rita replied quietly. ‘And you’re not the first to say that.
’ She smiled again. ‘So, on the first night of every retreat, we like to have a little introduction. It’s a gentle way to get to know each other, so you can feel a connection during the sessions and recognise familiar faces along the way. ’
A few hesitant smiles flickered around the circle. Davie checked his phone.
Zenya rose slowly, her voice soft and encouraging. ‘I know it’s hard not to keep checking your devices, but while you’re here, why not take a little break from the norm? Other guests have found it really helpful.’
Davie let out a huff. ‘That’s if I ever get signal up here!’ He shoved his phone back into his pocket.
Rita regarded him knowingly. ‘No pressure, but we’d love you to introduce yourselves. Just your name, maybe why you’re here or what you hope to get from the retreat. Or simply just sit and listen if that feels enough. No judgement here.’
Mr Broad-Shoulders was first to shift. He had that rumpled, endearing look, messy brown hair, an un-ironed T-shirt, and a pair of indigo jeans that fitted him perfectly. His grin, despite being warm, didn’t quite mask the sadness lodged in his deep blue eyes.
‘I’m Cass.’ His northern accent suited him, Rita thought. ‘Twenty-seven. Carpenter, work on big housing sites, mostly.’ He blew out a long breath, chest rising and falling as if bracing himself.
‘Take your time,’ Zenya murmured.
His eyes shimmered. ‘Shit… I don’t cry. What’s happening here?’
Davie reached across and squeezed Cass’s shoulder. ‘Men should, and can, cry. Even my fave rapper Aitch once shed a tear on I’m a Celebrity… Get Me Out of Here. He’s a Manc, too, I think.’
A hush fell over the group, gentle and protective.
Cass nodded, then swallowed hard. ‘My best mate… he killed himself. I had no fucking clue.’ He sniffed hard.
‘And I’m struggling. It was actually me mam who found this place.
Insisted she drove me down, all the way from home.
’ His voice cracked. ‘She read the reviews, said it might help. But…’ He looked to the sky to try and quell his emotions. ‘But… I don’t know how.’
Rita felt her throat tighten. The sheer, quiet power of a mother’s love, still guiding him even now, hit her hard. She sent Cass a warm, steady look and silently vowed to help him honour the courage, care and intuition his mum had shown in sending him here.
Rita nodded, encouraging. ‘Thank you, Cass. That’s a great place to start.’
‘I’ll get it over with,’ the woman with the unruly mop of red hair declared, her artfully draped scarf tumbling over her flowery summer dress.
‘I’m Odette Wilder, old enough to know better.
Three husbands to mention. Last divorce so messy, I’d rather date one of your goats than look at another male creature ever again. ’
‘The Odette Wilder?’ Priya chipped in, intrigued, then adding enthusiastically, ‘As in the author of The Shadowfire Chronicles, the best cult fantasy trilogy of its time.’
‘?Madre mía!’ Teo practically bounced off his hay bale. ‘My Jude, he will love to meet a real-life bestselling author.’
Odette shook her head with a wry smile. ‘Not sure I’m bestselling anymore. It’s been years since I topped the book charts. My bloody imagination’s been on holiday.’
Rita intervened. ‘Bestseller or no bestseller, we are thrilled to have you here, Odette.’
The redhead smiled as Rita continued, ‘And talking of Jude, he is the bookseller at Sail Away down in the harbour, which is so worth a visit. Plus, during your stay, you will find books in your bedside table drawer for your reading or gifting pleasure.’
Odette then scowled. ‘Let’s hope whatever is on offer might kick-start fifteen years of bloody writer’s block.’
Teo puffed out his chest. ‘I promise we will all release mucho here.’
‘Promises, promises, chico,’ Davie quipped as he looked the handsome Spaniard up and down.
Everybody laughed, bar Rita, not daring to think what the rule breaker might get up to on a wild cliff top in Cornwall.
Once they had settled again, Rita turned to Priya and smiled.
‘How about you?’
‘I’m Priya.’ Her voice was low and measured.
‘I turn fifty next year. Big life change time for me. I was a social worker, working with kids, for many years. I left that last year to retrain as a reflexologist.’ She paused.
‘I’m still learning, so if anyone wants to be a guinea pig?
’ She paused. ‘Sorry, Rita, that may have been out of turn.’
Rita’s eyes sparkled. ‘Not at all, I would love a session myself.’
‘Wonderful.’ Zenya broke the silence. ‘Such a healing and generous path, thank you, Priya.’
‘Yes.’ The woman looked thoughtful, before blurting, ‘My wife left me, you see. Ran off with our cleaning lady. Said I cared too much about everyone else and not enough about myself.’
Davie stifled a laugh. Odette glared at him.
‘So, I’m here to try and… well, lighten up a bit and find some happiness for me.’
‘Thank you for sharing and a huge welcome to you, Priya. I hope you find what you are looking for here at the retreat,’ Rita replied sincerely.
Davie shifted on his hay bale, giving the group a lopsided grin. ‘My turn!’ he trilled, his face brightening for a moment. ‘So… I’m Davie, and I’m stuck between who I am and who I’m supposed to be. TV’s a shiny carrot, but the trolls… they’re sucking the life out of me.’
He paused, swallowing hard. ‘I’m all for men crying. I just… I’ve never cried about this. Never even admitted how much it gets to me. And I think… if I started, I’m scared I wouldn’t stop.’ His voice wobbled. ‘I’d hate them to see it. The keyboard warriors, I mean.’
Rita, realising there was a lot going on for the lad, said quietly, ‘Like I’ve said before, there’s no judgement here.’
The group fell quiet for a heartbeat. Then Davie gave a small, rueful shrug, half embarrassed, half relieved to have said it aloud. A few heads tilted in sympathy, Priya offered an encouraging smile, and even Odette’s hard-looking face softened.
Davie let out a shaky breath, then lifted his voice.
‘Anyway… because I clearly haven’t talked about myself enough yet’ – a ripple of laughter from the group – ‘I’m from down the road in Devon.
Twenty-six, professional reality-TV disaster…
well, former disaster. Was on Love Chalet, if you’ve heard of it.
My agent insisted I come here to… detox.
’ He made a face. ‘Detox? Green juice, yoga, all things I normally avoid. They said apparently losing a few pounds might be good for my “brand”.’ He made quotation marks in the air with his fingers.
‘Whatever that even means!’ He put this hand on his protruding belly.
‘But me? I quite like being a bear. Been told I should inject some weight loss drugs in me like every other fat bugger seems to be doing. But I’m not touching any of it, don’t trust it.
’ He then grinned. ‘I think I might just head down and spend my time in the bay with Betty and her buns. By the sound of it she and I could be unstoppable.’
The laughter from the group hid the soft shuffle of footsteps behind them.
Wearing a thin-strapped sundress, with hair falling in golden waves over her shoulders and trendy spectacles perched on her nose, Imogen carried herself with effortless poise.
She paused at the edge of the circle, scanning the group with sharp, appraising eyes, then sat carefully on a hay bale.
‘Sorry I’m late. Not so great with happy-clappy group energy… so please bear with me.’
Rita nodded gently to indicate it was her turn to speak.
‘You already know I’m Imogen. Work in HR. From London. Burnt out, so needed to retreat.’ She offered a polite, faint smile.
Rita waited for more, but nothing came. ‘Welcome, Imogen.’ She took in the woman before her and concurred with Zenya that her eyes held no light and she certainly had a presence that was hard to read.
Rita stood, raising her voice. ‘OK. Thank you all for coming tonight and for being so open. I’m delighted you’re all here and hope you’ll make the most of the facilities and get what you need from the retreat.
Dinner’s at seven thirty, back down in the café.
Zenya’s made a deliciously spicy vegetable biryani, if any of you fancy it.
And Teo will be conducting a moon stretch in the orchard afterwards. ’
A few murmurs of thanks floated around the circle. Davie gave a lazy thumbs-up, Priya smiled quietly, and Imogen’s unreadable smile was barely visible.
Teo and Zenya lingered behind, making sure everyone had what they needed, checking that no one was left out or confused.
Sliding into her Jimny to head back down to the farmhouse, Rita was suddenly overcome by a surge of excitement at what she had created right here in her home at Seahaven Bay.
Her new life was at last taking shape. She was running a successful business; she was making her own living.
The farm and farmhouse were slowly getting the facelift they so massively needed.
She was thinking clearly about moving forward with a man who adored her and most of all, she felt that the huge cloud of grief that had initially enveloped her was dissolving to make way for a sky of happiness.
Wishing that this enthusiasm and feeling of hope would never wane, she stopped off at the chickens to lock them in their coop for the night.