Epilogue #5
‘BENJAMIN?’ I hear Miguel shout from the side.
The goat tries to drag me under. Not today, oh bearded one.
I have guests. Shit. I’m in my pants. This is not good.
It looks like I’m either drowning him or doing some kinky stuff with a goat.
In a pool. But maybe it’ll be good inspiration.
Chagall, doesn’t he paint goats? I see Miguel lower himself into the shallow end as I push the goat to safety and the bugger finds his footing on the steps, climbing up.
Miguel slaps him on the arse and he scarpers away, leaving a trail of water and matted fur on the patio.
No thank-you? Nothing? I bob there for a moment wondering how on earth I’m going to style this out.
The guests will never get in this pool now.
‘Shit, are they here? Please don’t tell me the guests saw that?’ I say to Miguel, dripping onto the patio.
Miguel looks down at my sopping light-grey underpants. They really do show off far too much. ‘Hey, it’s like that time I was naked and snorkelling with my flippers. Not so different really?’ he says.
I can’t bear to turn to the courtyard where the guests are probably standing.
‘Maybe this time though, it’s good there are no real guests,’ he continues.
What? I don’t understand what he’s saying. I turn to see an empty courtyard and then I look back to Miguel. Have people not shown up? Cancelled? Worse, could we not fit their luggage in the jeep and he’s left them at the airport? He would have called, no?
‘You said the eagle was in the nest,’ I tell him. ‘You texted.’
‘Your sister gave me different information. She said one guest,’ he says, shrugging and winking at me, wandering inside the villa. ‘She’s very nice. I think you two will get along.’ He walks off laughing, humming with smugness. I’m not sure why. Could he go and find a mop? Check on that goat?
And then I work out why. Out of the shadows, a figure appears.
I try and protect my modesty. I can’t have my only guest meet me looking like this.
But then my breath stops for a moment when I see who it is.
Chloe. She’s wearing flip-flops, a long white skirt and a vest top, a jumper tied around her shoulders, and sunglasses.
She’s here? But how?
She walks over nervously. ‘Hi. Are you Ben?’
I can hardly contain my smile. ‘Yes.’
She pauses. ‘You look a lot like Pedro Pascal, has anyone ever told you that?’ she says.
‘Many times.’ She has a bag. The same bag she had when she came here the first time. I even remember her bag. ‘Are you here for the artists’ retreat?’ I ask.
‘Yes. You’re naked,’ she says, pointing at me.
‘Not quite. I have pants on.’
‘They’re not hiding much though, really, are they?’ she says, smiling. I remove my hands from where they were. She doesn’t even flinch. ‘Is the goat OK?’
‘You saw that?’ I say, my face creasing with horror. ‘Yes. It’s part of the retreat. You get to swim with the goats. It’s very calming, soothing. The goats love it.’
Her lips twist as she tries not to laugh. ‘That’s what that looked like. Maybe I can try it tomorrow,’ she suggests.
‘Certainly. I’ll make sure we have our best goat ready for you. Her name is Gloria. I didn’t catch your name,’ I say. ‘You must be… actually, I was expecting four guests. I’m thinking you’re not Albert, sixty-five, from Devizes?’
She laughs. ‘I’m not. I’m not on the list, I was a last-minute addition. My name is Chloe.’
She puts her hand out for me to shake and I extend mine.
Hearing her name again, having her here, right here in front of me, her fingers wrapped around mine, it’s like my heart is singing, loudly, with wild abandon, without knowing any of the words.
We stop for a moment and I take her in, remembering every line and curve, the shape of her eyes that go large and almond-shaped when she’s quiet.
‘Can I ask how you heard about us?’ I say, trying to fill this moment with words, any words.
‘I got a marketing email,’ she says.
‘You did, did you?’
‘Yeah… and a very insistent, strongly worded email from two past retreat customers who said it was very important that I should come,’ she explains.
‘Oh, I think I might know them,’ I say.
‘And I thought, how could I resist? It would be a good chance to experiment with oils. I do love art,’ she tells me.
‘Well, you’re in the right place. We had an artist come through here some months ago. Really talented. She left some drawings and sketches for us and we have them framed on display in the villa.’
She stops for a moment. ‘You do?’
‘I do. They were a lovely reminder of her stay. She was a really remarkable guest.’
‘How so?’ she whispers, still standing away from me.
‘She was sweet, warm – someone who just radiated so many lovely qualities. I was very drawn to her energy, her laughter, her authenticity. She was beautiful in so many ways. And when she was gone, I felt it in a way I didn’t think imaginable.
Like something, someone was missing. And I’ve missed her every day since. ’
‘But you told her to go,’ she says.
‘Because she got a fancy new job. I didn’t want her to stay because of me.’
‘She sounds like a grown-up. Maybe she could have made that decision for herself,’ she says, tilting her head curiously.
I hold her gaze. ‘Yeah, I really fucked that up big time.’
Chloe pauses. I’ve imagined this moment many times.
I envisioned it clothed, without chlorinated water dripping off my hair, but to do this pretty much naked feels apt.
I think it’s the first time I’ve ever been so honest or selfish with my feelings.
I want her. Every part of her. In my life. For as long as she’ll have me.
‘She sounds very cool,’ Chloe says. ‘I hope I can match that guest’s energy.’
‘I’m sure you will,’ I reply. ‘She was also very into melon.’
‘I like melon,’ she says, laughing.
‘That’s good.’
I walk up to her and gently take off her sunglasses. Tears are forming in her eyes and rolling down her cheeks. I wipe them away and cradle her face, looking at her.
‘Hi,’ she whispers.
‘Hi,’ I reply. She smiles and I bend down to kiss her, every cell remembering this feeling, cheering me on, ecstatic that she’s here, next to me.
I can’t describe the warmth of that kiss.
How in an instant she feels like home. ‘I’m sorry.
I don’t normally get this excited around retreat guests,’ I say.
She laughs. ‘It’s fine. The last retreat I went to I got attacked by ants. All over my face.’
‘Really?’ I ask. She looks up to the house, a smile on her face. ‘Did you complain?’
‘I gave the place a five-star review on Google. The owner won me over.’
‘Oh. He must have been very charming,’ I reply.
‘He was. Incredibly handsome, kind, dripping in empathy, sensitivity. One of those rare golden people who open up the world and make it seem brighter, better.’
I feel a tear run down my cheek. ‘And was he hot?’ I ask, trying to style it out.
‘He was perfect. You should have seen his croquembouche,’ she says.
‘Was it big?’ I ask. ‘Majestic?’
‘It was kinda perfect.’
I may blush. ‘You’re here,’ I tell her.
‘Well, a source told me that you nearly got arrested because of me,’ she says, smiling.
‘I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ I protest.
‘Apparently, you had something to say. I heard that it was so urgent, you broke through security,’ she says.
I step towards her and take a deep breath.
‘I was going to say sorry. Sorry for not admitting to myself and to you that I felt something for you. More than something. I felt everything. And yeah, I was going to say that we should see where this could all go. Because it could end up being pretty perfect. And also…that I may be ridiculously in love with you.’
The world stops turning for a moment and Chloe smiles. ‘Well, that was not a wasted flight then,’ she says, laughing and studying my face. ‘I think I might be in love with you too,’ she whispers. ‘All of this, let’s make it work. I think Uncle Lorenzo would like that.’
I nod, laughing. Uncle Lorenzo would bloody love it.
I swear I can almost hear him in the background voicing his approval, applauding this, all of this.
No more doubt, no more excuses, no more worrying that any of this could be the wrong thing to do.
Lean into it, Ben. Trust. I hold Chloe close to me, letting my arms envelop her.
‘Now go and get a towel, Ben,’ she tells me, laughing.
‘I think you’ve got goat hair stuck to your cheek.
’ And I’m not sure I really care. Because the sparkle in her eyes is like a picture, a memory I want to frame forever.
You’re here. For me. For us. I see the light framing the villa, the sun setting somewhere behind it, turning the sky into a hundred different shades of every colour. The glow is everything.
*