Chapter 23
TWENTY-THREE
By six o’clock, the late sun was slanting golden through the branches of the Singing Tree, a slight breeze setting the wind chimes on their dance of heavenly tinkling.
The grass was warm, the bees were heading back to their hives, and Teo had just finished arranging some hay bales in a wonky semicircle.
Rita stood at the front, her nerves disguised beneath a cheery smile. Zenya sat, legs crossed and barefoot, in the grass. Teo leaned against the trunk.
Rita was happy to see all the new retreat guests were gathered, each clutching a biodegradable welcome cup filled with more of the fizz from earlier.
‘Welcome, everyone,’ Rita said brightly.
‘I hope you’ve settled into your new temporary homes – they have a pretty amazing view, won’t you agree?
’ Nobody said anything. Zenya and Teo shared a quick ‘brace yourself’ glance.
‘You’ve officially survived your first few hours at Seahaven Bay Retreat, so well done.
Tonight, as we are such a small group, I thought we’d do a gentle welcome circle under the Singing Tree.
My personal favourite place to just be.’
A few hesitant glances passed amongst the group.
‘Optional but encouraged,’ Zenya said, standing up.
Rita continued, ‘We’d love for you to introduce yourselves – just your name, maybe why you’re here, or what you hope to get from the retreat. Or you can say nothing at all.’
A woman perched confidently on a hay bale in a cheetah-print kaftan and gold wedges, her thick blonde hair curled to perfection, didn’t wait for permission.
‘I’ll go first. I’m Annie. Fifty-nine. Former cabin crew where I spent thirty years serving tea at thirty thousand feet while avoiding turbulence and terrible pick-up lines.
Not much has changed. Serial dater. Serial heartbreaker.
And seriously terrible at Tinder. I’m hoping to find inner peace or a man with a decent pension and a bad heart. Either will do.’
Zenya nodded graciously, as if the extroverted Annie had just announced she was here to study philosophy.
‘Well, don’t be looking at me with pound signs in your eyes,’ Vodka Man quipped.
‘I do have some standards,’ Annie spat back.
Everybody was now smirking.
Next to Annie was Lola, looking glorious in lemon yoga pants, smelling of patchouli oil, her purple hair in a single plait this time. She beamed enthusiastically. ‘Hi! I’m Lola. I’m twenty-five, a Virgo sun, Pisces moon, and I run a plant-based wellness brand called Vibe & Thrive on Instagram.’
She paused for dramatic effect, expecting recognition. She wasn’t deterred when it didn’t come. ‘I’ve just come off a five-day liquid chlorophyll cleanse and I’m hoping to spiritually realign, emotionally detox, and maybe lose the last stone that’s clinging to my aura.’
Vodka Man groaned audibly and then luckily only in Teo’s direction, whispered, ‘To her fat arse, she means.’
All heads turned to the middle-aged man with a pot belly, red nose, and perfectly coiffed silver-grey hair with tidy matching beard. He was slouched with a suspiciously large reusable water bottle between his legs and a scowl miserable enough to turn the weather.
‘I’m Michael,’ he muttered. ‘Divorced. Divorce lawyer. Old enough to know better. Recently detoxed from own marriage and now actively retoxing with spirits and I don’t mean the ethereal kind.
There will be no singing. Or tree-hugging.
And don’t even think of sticking a blessed herbal enema anywhere near any of my orifices. ’
Lola blinked. ‘Maybe that is exactly what you need. I think you might be holding a whole lot of stagnant energy.’
Rita, realising this probably would be the only thing Michael would be holding on to, quickly intervened. ‘Well, welcome, Michael, and let’s hope we can release some of it in other ways, eh?’
Michael muttered and took another swig from his potent water bottle.
Next came the chiselled-featured long-haired, good-teeth man. He wore dark sunglasses even in the shade and hadn’t spoken much since arriving. He pulled them down slightly now, revealing tired, kind eyes.
‘Call me Paul. Here to write music and escape the industry and the world for a bit.’
He gave a lazy shrug. Rita felt her stomach flutter as his gaze lingered on her just a fraction too long.
He carried a sexy arrogance that made her pulse quicken.
What was going on with her? She hadn’t seen Jago for a while, but out of sight had not meant out of mind.
Something had stirred within her, and she wasn’t sure how to navigate her feelings.
She shifted slightly, self-conscious, and cursed herself for noticing Paul’s unnerving charm.
Annie eyed him with interest and the others looked like they were trying to place him.
Then came the awkward pause. All eyes shifted to the small, mousy woman on the end who had been pretending to be part of the tree trunk.
She cleared her throat nervously.
‘I’m Emily.’ She was almost inaudible. ‘An accountant. Thirty-three. I didn’t… really want to come, but my company thought I needed “a reset”. I’m um… here for the peace and to read books. So, if I don’t say much, it’s not personal. It’s just… me.’
Everyone softened a little at that. Even Michael.
Rita clapped her hands gently. ‘Thank you all for sharing. Or not sharing. Either way, you’re here, and that’s the main thing.
Dinner is at seven thirty, a delicious vegetable chilli, with ingredients straight from the farmhouse garden, and Zenya will be doing a moon stretch class in the orchard afterwards. Optional but good for the glutes.’
‘And the gut,’ Zenya added.
‘Not after a blessed chilli,’ Michael added.
Teo raised his mug. ‘And remember, if you hear bells at night, it’s just the Singing Tree. Or maybe the goats.’
‘Or your conscience,’ Paul added dryly with a smirk, catching Rita’s eye.
Lola gasped excitedly. ‘Do we get to meet the goats?’
And just like that, under the rustling branches of the Singing Tree, the group began to take its first wobbly step towards becoming something more than strangers. Or at least, an eclectic mixture of characters who might survive a month with limited Wi-Fi.