Chapter 25
I wrench myself from bed, slide on a robe and answer the door.
‘You’re not Xavier.’
Mariola frowns. ‘Were you expecting him?’
Why am I like this? ‘Absolutely not!’
‘Ah?’
‘It would be odd, wouldn’t it? If he arrived on my doorstep unannounced.’
‘It would be a little out of the norm. However, he did send me here.’
‘Oh?’
‘He wants you to try out the resort spa so you can recommend it to guests if it ever comes up in conversation.’
‘Really?’ I get to skive off work and enjoy the fancy day spa?
It’s heavenly according to guests who’ve visited the bookshop, coming in afterwards almost floppy from relaxation.
Most of the natural products they use are made with oils sourced locally from various flowers and plants like coconut, frangipani and lemongrass.
She grins. ‘Really. All staff are invited to try the spa and if you’d like to use it privately on your day off, there’s a hefty discount then too.
’ She hands me a spa menu full of face and body treatments that I’ve already committed to memory from dreaming about being pampered.
‘Go wild as long as you’re back in the bookshop by lunchtime. ’
‘He’s not so bad, is he?’ OK, that might be the free massage offer talking, but really, as far as bosses go, if you can overlook his many rules and regulations, he does have a sweet side by inviting staff to partake in complimentary activities.
‘He has his good days. Best to head over now in case they get busy after the breakfast rush.’
‘Ooh, say no more. Wait! Who’s going to open the bookshop?’
‘Yours truly at your service.’ The dimples in her cheeks deepen. ‘I love telling Turt all my problems. For a tortoise, he’s a surprisingly good listener.’
‘Ha. That he is. A guest by the name of Bernie might come in for some beach reads she called about. If she does, I’ve put them under the counter so she can make her selection as she won’t have much time because she’s going island hopping on the fast boat at 11 a.m.’
‘OK, I’ll look after her.’
After Mariola leaves I throw myself in the shower. When I’m ready I cycle to the spa which is on the opposite side of the Cabana Bar, further down the beach near the rainforest. It’s tranquil this end, with only the occasional birdsong and the crash of waves.
I introduce myself and choose my treatment. The woman behind the counter has a thick Seychellois Creole accent that I find difficult to understand. ‘Sorry, I missed that again,’ I say.
‘Couples? Couples massage, OK?’
‘It’s only me though. I’m not in a couple.’
‘OK?’
‘Well, it’s not OK, it’s a bit of a disaster really. My boyfriend of a few months broke up with me on Instagram stories! He didn’t have the decency to call, or even post a picture on the grid, but these things happen and I will be OK.’
‘OK!’
‘Yes! Totally OK!’
It’s nice to have the support of a total stranger.
Maybe she’s one of those massage therapists who can recognise a woman coming off a bad breakup simply by the way I hold myself, that and the bags under my eyes from the whole Tia Amboro fiasco.
A massage is just the tonic after what I’ve been through.
The woman leads me to a room with two massage beds. The air is fragranced with the scent of an oil burner. Meditation music plays from unseen speakers. The styling is pared back with only the jarrah massage beds and deep brown warmth of the wooden floors and a small table with an oil burner.
‘Naked?’
‘Excuse me?’
‘Get naked. There’s a towel to cover yourself when you get on the bed.’
‘Ooh, right. Of course.’ Now I remember why I don’t get massages very often. It seems so wildly personal to get starkers with a person you’ve never met before and have them run their hands up and down the length of you. Why didn’t I choose a facial?
She closes the door and leaves me to it.
I quickly undress, living in fear that she’s about to burst in at any moment, and then promptly fling myself on the bed and drape the small towel over myself.
I take a deep breath of lemongrass-scented air and close my eyes.
Time to relax and unwind. Time to blot out all the problems that have blighted me. Time to—
‘OK? Couple?’
I startle. ‘Couple?’
‘Well, hellllooo.’
I roll my eyes. ‘What the bloody hell are you doing here, Michel? This is a private room.’
The woman tuts. ‘You said OK for the couple’s room.’
‘What? I thought you asked if I was in a couple and then I told you the reason I wasn’t and…
’ It’s my fault, I didn’t understand her question and instead launched into my breakup story because really I haven’t been able to talk about it much and doesn’t everyone like some sympathy now and then?
‘Sorry, that’s on me. I misunderstood. But he can’t stay. ’ I pull my towel tight.
Michel grins. ‘There are two beds and two of us, so I believe we are a couple if only for the next hour or so, eh?’
The towel draped over my lady bits now seems rather flimsy.
‘Is there any other room he can go in?’
‘No, so sorry!’
‘Right.’ I debate whether to flee, call this whole thing off, but leaving would expose more of my body than staying so I freeze and wait for the situation to resolve itself. It doesn’t. It only gets worse. Michel pulls his shirt off and goes to unbuckle his jeans.
‘Whoa, whoa. What are you doing!’ I shriek.
‘I’m getting undressed for my massage. If you wouldn’t mind, no photos. I’m sensitive when I’m naked in natural light.’
‘You’re not getting naked in front of me!’
‘Are you naked?’
‘Well, yes, but I—’
‘Then it’s only fair I get naked.’
‘I do not want to see your naked body.’
‘Then don’t look.’
How did I get myself into this mess? The very last thing I want is to be lying naked with these knots in my shoulders growing tighter because Michel is sans underwear next to me.
I close my eyes and huff and puff so he knows I’m put out.
There’s the rustle of clothes leaving his body and a thump as he throws himself on the massage table. ‘Do you want to hear some gossip?’ he asks, as if we’re just shooting the breeze and not in a rather intimate setting. Gossip will probably make this whole debacle feel less awkward.
‘OK.’
‘So, I had a rather interesting flight yesterday.’
‘Did you manage to keep the helicopter facing the right way this time?’ The masseuse starts on my shoulders with her magic hands and suddenly this predicament seems less like a problem and more like bliss.
The oil she uses is perfumed with frangipani, and that coupled with the meditation music and the soft touch, means I’m almost ready to drift off.
‘Very funny. No, I’m serious. I had two guests book a flight over Esperé.’
‘And is that unusual?’
‘No, I take guests on joy flights every day. What was unusual was they gave me specific coordinates and those just happened to be the undeveloped rainforest next to the Last Chance Resort.’
Could that be the same patch of rainforest I overheard Xavier talking about on that phone call?
He mentioned something about it being an interesting proposition and that a state-of-the-art resort could be built there.
Why would he do that if he’s got a resort right here that needs his attention?
I don’t mention this to Michel, knowing that gossip around the resort spreads like wildfire and I might be totally off track with whatever I thought I heard.
‘So what’s the problem?’ I wish he’d stop talking so I could sink into the massage.
‘Well, these suits were speaking quietly like they had something to hide, so I listened harder.’
‘Is that even possible?’
‘I’m a man of many talents.’
‘Get on with it.’
‘That land just so happens to be for sale. And I know for a fact that islanders don’t want some monolith built there.
Imagine all that vegetation gone, all that biodiversity demolished.
Ecologists study the flora and fauna unique to this island.
Marine biologists study the coral reefs and on it goes with all of us doing our bit to protect and preserve our environment and making sure that tourism that admittedly pays for our livelihood doesn’t cause further degradation.
Yet here we have Xavier, wanting to line his pockets any way he knows how. ’
‘I thought it was two suits looking at the land?’
‘It was and then they met with Xavier afterwards.’
‘So who are they?’
‘Likely investors. I’m sure Xavier alone doesn’t have the capital but with some money behind him, he’d be able to pull it off.’
‘And you think he’d do that?’
‘Why wouldn’t he?’
Michel’s concerns are understandable. The rainforest he’s talking about is visible from here.
According to the guidebooks I’ve flicked through in the Barefoot Bookshop it’s thick and lush and teeming with wildlife.
It’s also what makes the Last Chance Resort feel like a hidden paradise, bookended by so much verdant greenery and birdsong.
I gaze out the tinted window and instead imagine a resort there, blocking not only the view, but taking away the pristine nature of this island.
‘He’d ruin his own resort if he built there.’
‘Not if his plan is to sell this one and upgrade.’
‘Is that his plan?’
So much for letting my troubles float away in blissful harmony. Now I’m concerned about the ecological effects of building on the island and how razing the beautiful land will destroy the homes of all that precious flora and fauna.
‘It’s not like he’s going to ask permission, is it? It’ll all be done on the sly until it’s too late for us to protest.’
‘Can you even protest, if the land is legitimately for sale?’
‘Probably not. It’s privately owned.’
That is a depressing thought. The masseuse moves from my shoulders to my back, working her nimble hands in a deep-tissue massage that is sorely needed.
Michel miraculously falls silent as he gets the same treatment.
Not for long though. Soon, he’s letting out a series of rather disturbing moans as if he’s enjoying it a little too much.
It’s hard to tune out, but I do by focusing on the meditation music and my masseuse’s magic fingers.
Would Xavier really sell the Last Chance Resort?
And why do I care? I blank my mind and give in to the sensation of the massage, and soon Michel’s soft snores float between us. Men, eh? Can switch off just like that.