11. Chapter 11
11
‘ Y ou said take the next turn!’
‘I said take the next left turn!’ Katie retorted.
She huffed as Tom, shaking his head, guided the car down a narrow country lane with no turning place in sight. Hedges rose high on either side of them, and if they met another car coming from the other direction, they’d be reversing a long way.
‘You didn’t say left,’ Tom muttered as she watched him negotiate a hairpin bend and narrowly miss a pheasant.
Katie lowered the window, opened her mouth, and silently screamed into the passing countryside. So that they could chat during the journey and not be constantly interrupted by the robotic voice of the sat nav, Katie said she’d monitor the map and give directions. It had all been fine until they’d found themselves on small country roads. She’d already sent them off at the wrong exit at a roundabout, resulting in a five-mile detour, and now this. A vein was throbbing in Tom’s neck with her name on it.
‘You know, we don’t have to do this,’ she said, aware that pointing this out when they were over a hundred miles from home was probably not helpful. ‘The most important thing is to support one another at events they’ll be at. This is an optional extra.’
‘Well,’ Tom said, the vein pulsing as a junction finally loomed up ahead, ‘if you want to go back on what we discussed, which included this free luxury spa weekend and me going with you to that festival thing, then just say the word.’
The car screeched to a halt in the T-junction, and Tom glowered as he looked in each direction before the car lurched into a three-point turn.
‘I’ll happily drop you at the nearest train station. Or bus stop.’
The car started down the lane once more, carrying them back to where they had just come from.
‘No need to be like that,’ Katie grumbled. ‘I was just saying….’
A taut silence took hold. She’d be damned if she would be the one to break it.
‘Is it going to be like this all weekend?’ Tom ground out. ‘Because I know we’ve got a suite, but we’ll still be in each other’s space.’
‘No!’ Katie said. And then, in generous deference to the fact that he had broken the silence, which she considered a tiny victory, she added, ‘I’m sorry. It’s just all been a bit stressful for us both, hasn’t it? I think it’s making me crabby.’ Under her breath, she added, ‘And I did say left ….’
Tom let out a long sigh and Katie saw his jaw clench. She retreated from battle and stared out the window at the green hedges passing in a blur.
Back at the other end of the lane, they turned right to get back on course. After a few moments, Katie, following the map on her phone and keeping the amusement out of her voice, said, ‘We need to take the next left.’
Tom said nothing. As they approached the turn, he glanced at Katie and then pointedly flicked the indicator on.
Katie pressed her lips together and tried to keep her mouth straight. She peered out of the window as they rolled slowly up the long gravel drive to the spa hotel. She knew nothing about this weekend except that Melissa had booked it as a special treat for her and Tom.
A grand Georgian building, an exercise in architectural symmetry, rose before them, all red brick and vast windows. Expansive lawns with neat, freshly mown stripes spread out on either side of them as they approached the hotel. Carefully cultivated parkland with trees at evenly spaced intervals peeled away from either side of the building.
As they slowly pulled into the car park, two willowy women in white dressing robes and slippers wandered beside the flower beds, sipping daintily at glasses of water.
‘I never get over how people just walk about in dressing gowns in places like this,’ Katie said as the car crunched over gravel and came to a stop. ‘Especially when it’s posh, like this. Feels wrong, somehow. It’s apparently okay to walk around in just a dressing gown here, but if I go to Aldi in my pyjamas that’s wrong.’
‘Will you be staying fully dressed all weekend, then?’ Tom asked, flicking off the ignition. The atmosphere inside the car had thawed, and Tom looked relaxed—or relieved—now that they had arrived.
‘God no!’ She puffed. ‘I’m having whatever treatments and free robes and slippers Melissa has paid for!’
Stepping out of the car, they gazed up at the hotel.
‘Well.’ Katie lowered her sunglasses. ‘Melissa spared no expense when she booked this place, did she?’
Sweeping steps led up to the entrance, and huge stone columns supported the portico at the front. Rows of symmetrical sash windows fanned out across the front of the building. Neat borders of lavender and roses ran all around the hotel, not a weed in sight. Katie could see heavy drapes hanging inside each window and the glint of chandeliers. She snapped an Insta-worthy picture in preparation for a post for Ryan and Melissa’s benefit later on.
Tom was carrying their weekend bags. She reached out to take hers. ‘It’s okay,’ he said, smiling. ‘I’ve got them.’
Used to fending for herself at all times, Katie felt her mouth form into a little O but she made no sound. She fell into step beside Tom, glancing sideways to appreciate the ease with which he swung both of their bags in one hand, tossing the car keys in the other. Katie listened to the crunch-crunch of their steps as they walked across the gravel towards the entrance and enjoyed the strange and pleasant experience of being with a man who let her carry nothing heavier than her phone.
She wasn’t sure if the size and grandeur of the hotel had knocked her silent or if it was the dawning realisation that she was there to spend a weekend with a man she barely knew out of an overwhelming sense of anger towards their exes. The next forty-eight hours suddenly loomed large and long in her mind. She hoped there was good Wi-Fi—she could always ditch Tom and sit in her room eating chocolates and watching trash TV.
They stepped into the huge vaulted lobby. A stunning central staircase rose gently up at the far end before splitting and branching up both sides of the building to a gallery above. Near the bottom of the steps was a carved wood reception desk. Behind it stood a small, starched-looking woman wearing a navy suit and a fixed smile.
As they approached, she parroted, ‘Good afternoon and welcome to the Minster Hall Spa Hotel. Can I please take your name or reservation number?’
Her face barely moved as she spoke.
Tom was reaching into his jacket. ‘Yes, sure.’ He handed over a printed booking confirmation.
The woman rapped some numbers into her keyboard. ‘That’s lovely. Welcome to you both, Tom and Melissa. Lovely to have you with us.’
Katie gasped and then smothered a laugh.
‘Ugh, sorry,’ Tom said, his face colouring. ‘It’s not Melissa, it’s Katie.’
‘Oh.’ The receptionist blinked at him. ‘It says Melissa here. Melissa Wilson.’
Katie saw Tom clench his hands and his knuckles whiten. ‘Yes, it will say that. She made the booking. But this is Katie. I did call and update the reservation details.’
The receptionist seemed baffled, still holding the booking printout between finger and thumb. ‘Right. This is Katie?’
‘Yes.’ Tom nodded.
‘Katie Wilson?’
‘No,’ Tom said, a note of desperation in his voice. ‘Katie Matheson.’
The receptionist paused. ‘I see.’ She glanced at the booking printout again. ‘And will Melissa be joining you at some point?’
Katie was leaning on the counter now, head down, shoulders starting to shake.
Tom, who had been sounding more and more stressed, was now trying to keep the laughter out of his voice.
‘No,’ he said. ‘Melissa isn’t coming. Katie is here instead of Melissa.’
‘Oh. I see.’
The receptionist still seemed perplexed but click-clacked away at her keyboard.
‘And how are we spelling Katie?’
‘Any way you like,’ Katie piped up.
The receptionist pursed her lips.
‘And may I ask, what is the purpose of your trip this weekend?’ Her eyes flicked back and forth between Katie and Tom.
Katie let out a long sigh.
‘Well, our partners—ex-partners, now, in fact—cheated on us both with each other. But Melissa—his ex-girlfriend—had already booked this trip for them. So Tom and I—we hardly know each other and he does not know what he’s agreed to, putting up with me all weekend—decided to do this weekend together as part of our plan to get back at them and live our best lives.’
Katie paused for breath.
The receptionist’s smile didn’t budge, but her eyes were wide as she said, ‘I just meant…are you travelling for business or pleasure?’
Tom’s shoulders were heaving, and he was looking everywhere but at Katie.
‘Oh, well. Is neither an option?’ Katie asked, eyes wide.
The receptionist blinked at her. ‘I’ll um…I’ll just put pleasure.’
‘Yes,’ Tom said, having regained enough composure to speak. ‘That’s fine, thanks.’
‘You have treatments booked as part of the package,’ the receptionist continued. ‘A couples massage--’
Tom’s face flushed pink.
Katie snorted and shuffled sideways to hide behind a towering flower arrangement.
‘—and his and hers facials. Your treatments begin in…’ she looked at the time, ‘oh, in half an hour. So, let’s get you settled in. Now,’ the woman said, angling herself to talk to Tom. ‘You are in the Deardley Suite. If you need…’ she hesitated and lowered her voice, ‘separate sleeping accommodation, the suite is more than adequate for you. Both beds are made up—the main room and the smaller dressing room. It’s on the first floor, to the very end of the corridor. Dinner is booked as part of the package, and your table in the restaurant is reserved for 7.30pm.’
‘That’s great, thank you.’ Tom nodded.
Tom was reaching for their bags. Katie, parched after the long journey, especially the fractious last twenty minutes of it, and in desperate need of some cold, sweet drink, turned back.
‘Excuse me, do you have a vending machine?’
The receptionist looked like a bad smell had wafted under her nose.
‘We don’t have vending machines at this hotel,’ she replied with the same fixed smile. ‘Should you need refreshments, you will find bottled cucumber water, fruits, and nuts in your suite, along with a selection of caffeine-free teas and a complimentary bottle of sparkling elderflower.’
Jesus, Katie thought. There went all hopes of a weekend indulging in trash TV and junk food. She looked around, and the beautiful hotel now looked less like a relaxing retreat and more like a rehab centre. Where were the biscuits and the complimentary chocolates?
Tom was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs. ‘Come on,’ he muttered. ‘Don’t worry. I wanted some crisps too. Maybe the nuts will be salted.’
‘I can’t remember when we last passed a shop on the way here,’ Katie muttered as they climbed the elegant stairs.
‘Tom,’ Katie hissed as they made their way up the stairs. ‘If there’s no chocolate and no crisps and no caffeine…is there no wine? I mean, she said there was complimentary elderflower water or something. What happened to complimentary champagne?’
Tom just looked back at her and shrugged, eyebrows raised.
Their suite was at the end of a long corridor lined with large elegant panelled doors. As they got towards the end of the corridor, the rooms had names. Easton Room, Baronet Room, Lady Calendur Room. And finally, the Deardley Suite.
‘Well, let’s see what Melissa is treating us to!’ Tom said as he turned the heavy old key in the lock.
They stepped inside and stopped on the threshold. The bedroom they had walked into was huge. A wooden four-poster bed draped in duck egg blue and gold fabric was the centre piece.
‘Well, I can see my bed, but where are you sleeping?’ Katie murmured.
They shuffled forwards into the room. To the left was an enormous bathroom with a claw foot bath, a waterfall shower, and his and hers basins. To the right was a sitting room, with elegant jacquard-covered sofas with plump cushions and delicate-looking tables with spindly legs. Beyond that was a smaller room with a small double bed and bathroom.
‘I almost feel guilty,’ Katie murmured. ‘Almost—but not quite.’
She moved to one of the huge sash windows. Pushing aside the heavy velvet drapes, she looked out across acres of manicured gardens and lush green lawns. The two women they had seen on their way in were reclining on loungers beside a swimming pool as a waiter carefully placed a jug of water onto the small table beside them.
‘Wow,’ she whispered. ‘This weekend is looking up with or without wine.’
Tom joined her at the window.
‘That is pretty spectacular,’ he said.
The sun bounced off the crystal clear pool. She could smell his aftershave as they stood side by side, a comforting woody, spicy smell that beckoned her to relax and lean into him. She shook herself and held her breath.
‘We’d better get a move on,’ Tom said as he stepped back from the window. ‘We’ve got a couples massage in fifteen minutes.’
He didn’t look at her as he said it.
‘Yes, about that…’ Katie tapped her chin thoughtfully and moved away from the window. ‘Is that…weird? I’ve never had a couples massage before. We won’t…they don’t…we won’t…see anything, will we?’
She could feel the colour rising up her neck and face.
‘I mean…of each other?’
Tom burst out laughing. ‘I don’t think so. And we can tell the massage therapists that we’re not, in fact, a couple. Ask them to keep us decent.’
‘Sure,’ Katie said, moving towards her bag which Tom had set down on the four-poster bed.
Tom paused from where he was rifling through his holdall on a chaise in the sitting room and stood in the doorway. He leaned against the architrave and studied her.
‘Katie, if you’re not comfortable, you can do it on your own. I really don’t mind. So long as we can have a laugh and get some fabulous pictures to stick on Instagram about what an amazing weekend we’ve had, I’m fine.’
Katie smiled at the open and slightly worried expression on Tom’s face. She was touched by his consideration.
‘No, no, don’t be silly,’ she said, pulling a bottle-green swimsuit out of her bag. ‘This is going to be fun.’
***
Ninety minutes later, they were lying flat on their backs wrapped in matching robes in a dimly lit room that smelt of sandalwood and patchouli. A salt lamp glowed in a corner, and tinkling music mixed with the sound of waves rolling ashore played softly in the background.
Their couples back massage had been more dignified than expected. Both had been face down on a massage bed, staring at the floor. The only view Katie had was of her masseuse’s sparkling white trainers.
Now, as part of their facial, they each had face masks on. Katie had Dead Sea Mud, and Tom had Green Clay.
Tom sighed deeply. ‘Mmmmm, I feel really relaxed after that massage,’ he said into the quiet.
‘I need the loo,’ Katie whispered. ‘I drank too much of that bloody cucumber water.’
Tom chuckled. ‘Don’t make me laugh.’
Katie pushed herself up on her elbows and looked at him in the gloom.
‘Your mask is cracking,’ she said without moving her lips, like a deranged ventriloquist, for fear of breaking her own mud face.
‘Is that a metaphor?’ Tom asked.
‘What? We’re lying here in our smalls covered only in hotel robes and you think I am speaking in metaphor? No, your mask is literally cracking. It’s flaking off. Look,’ Katie picked up a piece of hardened green clay that was lying on the massage bed beside Tom’s head.
Tom glanced up at her. ‘You look stunning. I am literally stunned. By how you look.’
‘Thank you.’ Katie lay back down. ‘I think I might wear this look more often.’
‘Oh, you should. It’s all the brown and…and the lumps. They really bring out the hazel in your eyes.’
Katie snorted and tried not to smile for fear of the mask flaking off.
‘We need to get a picture,’ she muttered through clenched teeth. ‘For Instagram. So we can show the world—and Ryan and Melissa—we are living our best lives.’ She rooted in the pocket of her robe for her phone.
‘Do you think this,’ Tom hooked a thumb towards his green-encrusted face, ‘is what my best life looks like?’
‘I think it looks like you’re out in the world getting on with your life. It’s a ‘fuck you’ to Melissa and Ryan, is what I think,’ Katie said, feeling another piece of mud flake off her face. She shimmied herself sideways on the treatment bed to angle her torso towards Tom so she could fit both their faces in the photo. Tom tilted himself towards her, and as both their mask-covered faces came into focus in the selfie frame on her phone, they burst out laughing.
‘Arrggh ha ha ha!’ Tom groaned, his fingers going to his face, and Katie watched as several large chunks of dried green gunk fell away.
Katie, trying to push down a rising cackle and keep her face straight, huffed out, ‘Quick, we have to get a picture before it all comes off!’
Tom’s shoulders were shaking, and Katie could feel tears of laughter pricking the corners of her eyes as they squeezed into a shot together for a split second. The camera flashed, and Katie knew that the photo would have to do because Tom had given up all efforts not to laugh, a huge grin erupting across his face as he snorted with laughter. His eyes shone as he held out his hand for her phone, and he cracked up looking at the picture.
‘My eyes are half closed,’ he protested.
Katie cackled in response as flakes of brown mud dropped onto her bright white robe.
‘What do you think I’ll look like when this is washed off?’ he asked, grinning as he picked at the green crust on his face. ‘Do you think it will enhance my chiselled jawline?’
Katie wiped at her eyes and squinted at him. ‘Who told you you’ve got a chiselled jawline?’
He did, in fact, have a very nice jawline, but there was no need to simply agree with him.
Tom huffed, and a piece of green clay blew off his chin.
‘Pretty much every woman I’ve ever dated.’
‘What? All two of them?’
Tom laughed, then abruptly stopped.
‘Don’t make me laugh again! There’ll be nothing left when that therapist comes in.’
‘I need the loo,’ Katie muttered again, shuffling on her massage bed and crossing her legs.
As they lay there, breathing slowly returning to normal after the bout of laughter, the door opened gently, and the two therapists re-entered the room. They leaned over Katie and Tom in the gloom, peering at the dried facial masks.
In respectful and soothing whispers, they asked, ‘How are you feeling?’
‘Like there’s dried gunk all over my face,’ Tom replied honestly.
Katie snorted from her lying down position, and more Dead Sea mud cracked off.
‘Sorry,’ she muttered to her therapist.
‘Let’s get you out of that,’ Tom’s therapist murmured.
Katie glanced over, attention spiked by the seductive tone in the therapist’s voice.
Tom was grinning.
‘That’d be great, thanks.’