Chapter 2 #2
Hurrying into the bathroom, she threw off her T-shirt, shorts and underwear and jumped in the shower. The water was freezing cold at first but soon turned lukewarm and refreshing.
Reaching for some shower gel, which was sitting on a shelf above the washbasin along with matching bottles of expensive-looking shampoo, conditioner and body lotion, she proceeded to soap herself down as quickly as possible.
There wasn’t time to wash and dry her hair, so, having turned off the shower and wrapped herself in one of the white fluffy towels provided, she combed it through as best she could and tied it back in a ponytail.
Then she put on a white, cotton, summery dress and gold sandals and applied a small amount of make-up.
Glancing at herself in the mirror once more, she frowned. Her face was pale and there were dark circles under her eyes that gave her a hollow, haunted look. But at least she was clean. She glanced away quickly. She’d have to do.
She felt quite nervous walking downstairs and wished she knew where Tash’s room was, then they could have gone together. Luckily, though, Tash was already on the terrace, along with Henrietta and about six or seven other women.
They were standing with drinks in their hands beside a rectangular wooden table and chairs, which was already laid with bright yellow linen place mats, yellow-and-white striped napkins, and cutlery.
In the centre was a silver wine cooler containing an open bottle, along with several glasses and a jug of something pale yellow and filled with ice.
The area was quite shady, surrounded as it was by trees and Bougainvillea shrubs, with showy pink and white flowers that looked almost too gaudy to be real.
Just beyond the terrace was a trellised archway, covered in climbing white roses and a trailing vine. A narrow pathway in the middle led, Cleo supposed, to the rest of the garden and the pool.
On spotting Cleo, Henrietta left the group and joined her.
‘Would you like some tropical fizz?’ she said with a smile. ‘It has strawberries, melon and orange in it. It’s non-alcoholic, of course. Or we have some of Mark’s delicious sparkling lemonade if you prefer?’
‘Tropical fizz, please.’
While Henrietta poured the pinkish drink, Cleo caught Tash’s eye and they smiled at each other.
Tash was standing next to a tiny, lithe-looking woman in a sleeveless grey top with long, shiny silver hair.
The woman appeared to be very animated, waving her tanned, wiry arms around, while Tash listened politely to whatever she was saying.
Opposite them was a tall, slim, striking-looking woman with bright red hair pulled up into a high ponytail. From her smooth face, big, pillowy lips, long, black eyelashes and razor-sharp cheekbones, it was pretty obvious she’d had work done.
Perhaps she’d gone a bit far with the lip filler, Cleo thought, but she looked fabulous all the same. Cleo rather fancied the idea of having Botox and fillers herself, but reckoned she’d be too scared and couldn’t afford it anyway.
None of the other guests were nearly as glamorous as this woman, and she stood out a mile. Cleo wondered who she was and couldn’t wait to meet her.
Lesley and Fran were slightly apart from the others, huddled together under a lemon tree. They’d both changed. Lesley was in a baggy, shapeless navy-blue polo shirt and beige shorts, while Fran was in a flowery top and white trousers.
Meanwhile, frosty Maya was talking to two, considerably younger women with straight brown hair, healthy, wholesome complexions and shapely physiques.
You couldn’t miss Maya – she was taller than everyone else and had an aloof, disinterested air. Perhaps she was used to mixing with far more important folk and was already finding the present company tedious. Cleo made a mental note to steer well clear of her.
The group was soon joined by a much older woman with dark hair, flecked with grey, in a voluminous pink-and-blue cheesecloth smock.
Meanwhile, a grey-haired, middle-aged woman in a white top and black trousers emerged from the kitchen carrying a tray of colourful pottery bowls, which she placed on the table. She was clearly one of the helpers.
‘Thanks, Elizabeth,’ Henrietta said to her. ‘Please tell Mark we’ll be another fifteen minutes or so.’
The bowls were filled with plump black olives, delicious-looking home-made hummus and slivers of carrot, red pepper and cucumber. Cleo’s mouth watered but instead of helping herself, she took her drink and made a beeline for Tash.
She was thinking she’d rather talk to her than get stuck with Maya or Lesley and Fran, so she’d better be quick. She wanted to meet the red-haired woman, too, who immediately introduced herself as Anthea.
‘I’m a hair stylist, I have my own business here,’ she said, in a strong Glaswegian accent. She was wearing a very short, tight gold top which barely fitted over her large boobs.
‘I’m also a trained masseuse,’ she went on. ‘I do Thai, Shiatsu, deep tissue, Swedish, reflexology or a blend of everything. If you’re interested, you can book through Henrietta or Mark. Let them know as soon as possible though. I can get quite busy.’
‘Ooh! I’d love a massage,’ Cleo replied, then, remembering her dwindling bank balance, ‘How much do you charge? Roughly, I mean.’ She couldn’t really afford to pay for extras.
As soon as she’d spoken though, she regretted it. It might seem pushy and a bit vulgar to ask about prices now. But if Anthea minded, she didn’t show it.
‘I know, you’ve all paid a lot to come here already,’ she said.
‘But you don’t have to go for an expensive treatment.
It depends what you want. You can have anything from a fifteen-minute neck and shoulder rub to a ninety-minute full body, head and scalp massage.
Henrietta has the price lists. I’ll ask her to give you one. ’
Cleo was grateful. Anthea seemed sensitive, friendly and down to earth, and her heart was clearly in the right place.
Over the hubbub, Cleo heard Henrietta telling everyone in a loud voice to help themselves to mezze. ‘Supper in fifteen minutes!’ she added.
Cleo was aware of a few folk moving towards the table, but her own group stayed put.
‘Anthea’s lived in Porto Liakáda for over twenty years,’ Tash commented. ‘She has a daughter, Alexa, who’s nineteen.’
‘Do you?’ Cleo was surprised. ‘You don’t look old enough to have a nineteen-year-old daughter.’
Anthea’s lips curled at the edges and she tapped the side of her pert little nose. ‘Och! There’s this magic little shop I go to. It’s amazing what they can do.’
Her honesty was refreshing and Cleo laughed. ‘Well, you look great!’
She turned to the tiny woman in the group who’d been talking so animatedly to Tash earlier on.
‘Do you live here too?’
The tiny woman nodded. ‘Well, in Sfakia, actually. I’m staying in the village all week, though. I teach yoga and Pilates.’
Her name, she explained, was Ima, and she grew up in Northern Spain.
‘I go back once or twice a year to see my sisters and cousins, but I feel more Greek than Spanish now.’
From close up, you could see the network of lines on her face and neck, but her eyes were bright blue, sparkly and intelligent. She looked like someone who’d lived a full, interesting life and who was still very much up for meeting new people and enjoying new experiences.
‘I haven’t done Pilates for ages,’ Cleo said, shuddering to think how inflexible she’d seem compared with Ima, who was probably at least ten years older. ‘I’m dreadfully stiff at the moment. I look forward to coming to your classes.’
Ima fixed her with a penetrating gaze, which made Cleo shrink.
‘I can see you’re tense,’ she said with a tut. ‘Look! You’re all hunched up! Your shoulders are up by your ears!’
She reminded Cleo of some of her stern, former schoolmistresses.
Without another word, Ima passed her half-empty glass to Anthea and stepped behind Cleo, reaching up and pushing her shoulders down firmly into their sockets. She might be small and slight, but her hands were remarkably strong.
The pressure made Cleo groan with pain and pleasure, all rolled into one. She twisted her head from side to side to loosen her neck and it cricked so loudly, she thought everyone would hear.
‘Thanks,’ she said, when Ima finally removed her hands and stepped away again. ‘I obviously need to work on that.’
‘You do,’ Ima replied. ‘There is much to be done. But you’ll be amazed what we can achieve in a week.’
At that point, Cleo saw Henrietta weaving through the gathering towards her, followed by the two very similar-looking young women with long, brown hair.
‘Meet Frida and Ingrid,’ Henrietta said. ‘They’ve come all the way from Oslo.’
The young women smiled, revealing rows of clean, white, healthy-looking teeth.
After the initial pleasantries, Cleo asked how they’d had come to choose this particular retreat.
In perfect, heavily accented English, Frida, who was slightly taller than her friend, explained they’d been doing some Google research and liked the look of the retreat’s website. They also fancied Crete as a venue. This was the second year they’d come, which was obviously a good sign.
‘How do you know each other?’ Tash wanted to know next.
‘We work for the same company,’ said Ingrid. ‘We’re both engineers.’
Cleo was impressed. They didn’t look much older than her own daughter.
‘What sort of engineers are you?’ she asked.
‘Civil engineers,’ Ingrid explained. ‘We’re working on the design and construction of a new hydropower plant.’
‘There aren’t so many women in our team,’ added Frida. ‘We’re heavily outnumbered. Luckily Ingrid and I hit it off straight away.’
She turned to Tash and Cleo.
‘So, what about you? What made you decide to come here?’
Tash shuffled nervously from one foot to another and Cleo quickly stepped in to save her.
‘I decided it was time to take back control,’ she joked, patting her belly. She didn’t want to discuss her real problems right now, any more than Tash did.
Ingrid frowned. ‘Don’t be silly. You’re in great shape.’
‘Thanks,’ Cleo replied, with a grateful smile. ‘Actually, I’m not that bothered about my weight. The main thing is I want to get fitter and healthier.’
‘And me,’ Tash agreed.
Cleo raised her eyebrows.
‘You? I bet you’re super fit. You certainly look it. I’m afraid at home I don’t do nearly as much exercise as I should and I eat far too many ready meals.’
Henrietta shook her head, fake-disapprovingly. ‘Well, you won’t be getting any of that here. Strictly fresh organic food, no caffeine, alcohol or refined sugar, nothing processed.’
Tash squeaked. ‘I hope we won’t be ravenous all the time? I can get awfully hangry.’
‘You’ll be fine,’ Henrietta reassured her, before giving an evil grin. ‘You can fill up on herbal tea.’
Cleo noticed Maya talking briefly to Lesley and Fran but she moved off pretty smartly and strode over to the table to top up her glass. Cleo suppressed a giggle. She could imagine Maya and Lesley would hate each other: two dominant, alpha females vying to be Top Dog. There might be fireworks!
After pouring her drink, Maya paused for a moment to pick up a carrot stick and dip it in hummus before popping it in her mouth. Then, to Cleo’s dismay, she strode towards her, Tash and the rest.
It seemed she’d already met the Norwegians, as well as Anthea and Ima.
‘Ima teaches yoga and Pilates,’ Tash said, trying to be helpful.
Maya sipped her drink. ‘I know.’
Ima cleared her throat and Cleo sensed a change in her demeanour. She looked on edge all of a sudden, her chin slightly raised, her thin, wiry arms rigid by her sides.
‘Have you had an enjoyable afternoon?’ she asked politely, but her bright-blue eyes shifted left then right and failed to meet Maya’s gaze.
Maya herself showed no signs of such discomfort.
‘Yes, thank you. I took the opportunity to do some research about yoga versus Pilates. As I thought, the general view is that Pilates is better for you, or at least better than old-fashioned yoga.’
Ima gave a small, cool smile. ‘As I believe I said, it depends what you mean by better.’
‘Better for your fitness,’ Maya replied, quick as a flash.
Ima, unable to conceal her annoyance, sucked in air through her half-clenched teeth. ‘For your physical fitness, perhaps. But in my view, it depends on the individual.
‘Also, yoga has certain mental and spiritual benefits which are quite unique. Neither is better or worse than the other, they’re just different.’
She cleared her throat again and repeated, ‘As I believe I said.’
Cleo shuffled uncomfortably on the spot and noticed the others looked uneasy, too. Tash was staring hard at the ground.
It was obvious Maya and Ima had had words earlier – and the week hadn’t even started yet. Perhaps Maya would be running the retreat by the end of the trip; she clearly thought she knew more about Pilates and yoga than the teacher anyway.
It was a relief when Henrietta announced dinner was ready and called them all to the table.
‘Sit wherever you like,’ she said.
Cleo attached herself like a limpet to Tash and made sure they were side by side. One of the Norwegian girls sat on Cleo’s other side while Maya took her place at the centre of the table, directly opposite the woman in the pink-and-blue cheesecloth smock.
The grey-haired waitress and another helper emerged from the kitchen carrying bowls filled with something vivid green. Henrietta announced it was white bean and baby spinach soup with onion, garlic, broccoli, cumin and a pinch of chilli.
There were also several little dishes on the table filled with seeds, to add to the soup if desired.
It was iced water to drink, or guests could make themselves herbal tea. Apparently, there was a wide variety of sachets to choose from on a table just beyond the kitchen, along with cups and an urn of boiling water.
‘The work starts here,’ Tash whispered wryly to Cleo, as she dipped her spoon in the super-healthy-looking liquid and raised it tentatively to her lips.
Cleo giggled. ‘I’m a bit scared!’
She raised her own spoon to her mouth and took a very small sip. To her great relief, the soup was, in fact, delicious: rich, hot, creamy-tasting and a little bit spicy. The volume of chatter rose as everyone tucked in, while the light started to disappear around them and darkness descended.
Before the second course, the staff lit giant candles in hurricane lamps and placed them on the table. Fairy lights festooned round the terrace area lit up in a blaze of twinkling colours, too, making the place appear quite magical.
In between conversations with those to her left and right, Cleo glanced over at Maya a few times, sitting very upright and focused on slowly eating her food.
She couldn’t help noticing that in among the happy, excited chatter, Maya barely raised her gaze from her plate and said nothing at all.