Chapter 12
BEN
There aren’t any poisonous snakes in Ibiza.
Snakes are taking over the ecosystem but there’s more of a problem in the sea with jellyfish and the occasional shark sighting.
I was only worried because the snake was wrapped around a branch very close to Chloe’s hair so I wanted to limit the potential shock of her seeing it.
But instead, she reacted in the most dramatic way possible.
She did a strange ritualistic dance and ran for her life.
I’ve never seen anyone run like that. There was windmill-style action in her arms like she was swimming through air, and she made a yodelling sound that really echoed through the trees.
I was left standing there, astonished. The snake stayed still, possibly in a state of shock.
Maybe she was running to get help? Or maybe she was running away from me?
Again. But I stood there for a moment, laughing.
The girl has depths, intelligence; she’s on the funny side of mad but she’s also undeniably attractive in a glowing, natural way.
And she clearly doesn’t realise it herself.
No, Ben. We don’t think of the guests in that way, I remind myself. We don’t but that doesn’t mean I can’t find her the best melon on the island.
‘?Cuánto cuesta esto?’ I say, now perusing the fruit stall at the market.
‘For you, guapo… good melon, this melon. Cinco euros, si?’ the kindly stallholder says.
I nod and she smiles broadly and weighs it, winking at me.
I wink back because this lady gives me freebies and calls me ‘guapo’ every day.
I also like hearing her argue with Miguel, it reminds me of my mum’s hurried Spanish and makes me feel part of this place.
Ever since I’ve arrived in Ibiza, Miguel has loved showing me all these secret corners where I can get the best produce and enjoy the most authentic Balearic cuisine.
It taps into my love for food but also a part of my Spanish heritage that maybe I’d lost touch with.
‘She never calls me guapo,’ Miguel complains.
‘It’s because you’re unattainable so she doesn’t bother,’ I joke, picking up my shopping bags and hauling them over my shoulder.
After my run, I had returned to the villa to find everyone still asleep.
Chloe had been locked in her room, possibly still scared the snakes were coming for her.
So it had made sense to come here to find prawns as big as my face and stroll through the streets in the sunshine.
I do love it here. Usually when I’m shopping at home, I’m in a cold, busy market and fighting with other customers over produce, bartering with a bald man called Mick to get a good price on potatoes.
‘So, I come later and we give the ladies massage,’ Miguel suggests as we dawdle around the stalls.
His enthusiasm for getting involved in this retreat has been endearing especially as he does everything unpaid but I’m still conscious that the women saw his wanger in the pool yesterday and may not have recovered from that unexpected sighting yet.
‘You know how to massage, right?’ I ask.
‘Of course, I used to work in one of the spa hotels in Eivissa when I was young. Plus, I used to massage horses,’ he says confidently. ‘I come. You have olive oil?’
‘Miguel, they’re not animals,’ I explain.
‘Benjamin, we are all animals,’ he says, patting my shoulder.
‘Horses?’
‘My uncle owned a farm. The horses were pregnant. I also used to clip hooves. You want me to do pedicure?’ he asks.
‘Miguel!’ I say, watching him laugh at my reaction. I’m pleased that he tags along and keeps me company. We continue to walk through the colourful, fragrant maze of this indoor market lined with fruit, vegetables and huge slabs of meat.
‘So we massage the ladies, we feed the ladies, what else we do with them?’ he asks.
‘You make it sound so simple, Miguel. I’m still working that out. I stopped at the nice shop by the church and got them these lovely notebooks and pens. I thought they could journal. Maybe I could lead some meditations?’ I say as he stops at a café stand and orders us both coffees and churros.
‘Boring. You can walk in the hills and find any old man with a long beard to cross legs with and play with your chakras,’ he tells me. ‘I have a feeling those ladies also need fun times. Something that will make them feel free.’
‘Mountain biking?’ I suggest.
‘Benjamin, you have three sisters. You know women. What do they really want? I have one idea. I know someone who has a little shop in town. I will bring gifts.’
The fact that Miguel won’t share the full details of this idea worries me a little.
The coffees are put in front of us along with the longest, crispest churros I’ve ever seen, dusted in icing sugar.
I bite into one, savouring the crunch and the fluffiness of the interior.
‘I thought about beauty treatments,’ I say between mouthfuls.
‘I was going to make some face masks. Brew some herbal teas.’
Miguel continues to turn his nose up at my suggestions. ‘These are things these ladies can do in their houses in England, no?’
‘True,’ I say, feeling bad that my ideas, which I’d thought were carefully considered, might be a little bland.
‘Oooh, I have an idea for tonight. You are all free? I give you an address,’ he says.
‘Miguel, you’re full of ideas but you aren’t giving me any details,’ I say, worry framing my brow.
‘Because you are boring. I am surprises,’ he replies cryptically. ‘Now eat your churros like a good boy.’
I recall my conversation with Miguel at the market as I now watch him massaging Chloe beside the pool with little more than his old hands and some olive oil that I heated up gently on the stove.
Don’t overdo the oil Miguel or she’ll start to sizzle.
I stand by the table pretending to clear away some of the lunch dishes, watching, mildly panicked.
‘Chica, you are so tense. I work out these knots, my love. Keep the breathing through the nose,’ he tells her.
For most of the morning, Chloe has worn sunglasses and we haven’t mentioned the snake incident. I saw her go in the pool and put her head under the water and do those dolphin kicks she was talking about, yet I can’t shake the sense that she isn’t happy or fully letting go.
‘And do you have a boyfriend?’ Miguel asks her. ‘I know Zara and Jess are married. You? Do you have a man-friend?’ He looks up and winks at me quite obviously from across the pool.
I shake my head at him. What on earth? This is not a matchmaking service, Miguel. I leave them be, watching Zara as her flip-flops clap against the patio, interrupting the silence as she speaks angrily on her phone.
‘If your dad says no, Bella, then it’s a hard no… Did you literally just call me to ask me that? How about are you safe? How’s the holiday, Mum? Is there a pool?’
I bite my lip as I hear Zara’s sarcasm. She hangs up abruptly and comes to sit down. I push a glass of wine in her direction. She reaches for it automatically and takes a prolonged sip.
‘God. Teenagers,’ she says through gritted teeth.
‘Was that your daughter?’ I ask as I sit down beside her, still vaguely pretending to tidy while keeping one eye on the massage in the corner. ‘Bella?’
‘Yes, she’s the one who tests me the most. We’re either the best of friends or my husband has to call emergency resolution summits and write treaties to bring about peace,’ she says plainly. ‘She’s just fierce and outspoken with a very keen sense of justice. Bella is hard to wrangle, shall we say?’
‘My mother had three daughters. I witnessed their upbringing so I can relate,’ I joke.
‘Plus, this stems from when we went away at Easter and I got so pissed off with all of my kids that I threw their phones in the pool,’ Zara explains.
I laugh loudly before realising that she’s being serious. ‘You what?’
‘Oh, we had a holiday in the south of France where my teens spent half their time on their phones and, in a rage, I threw them in the pool,’ she tells me calmly, sipping her wine. ‘My husband’s too, which was fun as all our flight details and boarding passes were on there.’
I love that she fought back, that she was so impulsive.
‘After that, it made me rethink the term “holiday” and I realised that I hadn’t had a break from my kids for years,’ Zara explains.
‘I’ve invested every ounce of time and being into them and work, and I started to think it wasn’t good for any of us.
That’s why I saw this and thought, yes please…
’ She takes a deep, cleansing breath as she confesses this.
‘So, no school runs, no mindless worry about having enough milk in the fridge, and a few days of unbroken sleep. I swear, even if I sleep like I did last night for the next week, this will have been worth every penny. I haven’t slept like that for years.
I feel like a new woman,’ Zara says, gratitude etched on her face and shining through her brown eyes.
‘I hear that,’ Jess says, appearing at the table. ‘I don’t mind sharing a bed with my husband and the occasional baby, but to lie in a star shape and not be kicked and not have someone steal the duvet is…’ She raises two hands in the air like she’s proclaiming a hallelujah.
‘Amen,’ Zara says and they both laugh. ‘And with that, I’m going upstairs to nap because my massage has knackered me out.’
‘Take your gift bag!’ Miguel says as she stands up. ‘My friend owns a shop in town! These goodies are for you!’
I haven’t looked inside the gift bags yet and I wonder if I should check them, but Zara blows a kiss in Miguel’s direction before scampering away inside.
‘Love, you are next, yes?’ Miguel says, gesturing over the pool in Jess’s direction.
I notice that she pulls her robe tightly around her.
‘Ummm, Ben,’ she whispers, ‘do I have to have a massage? It’s just I ate a lot of the gambas for lunch and I had one too many sangrias, I think I might give the massage a miss.’