‘Eventually.’ Cece slung her arm over Olivia’s shoulders and pulled her closer. ‘We just have to give it time.’
‘We? You’re not the one having the public emotional meltdown.’
‘No, but I have been that one, and so you can trust me when I say it does get better.’
Olivia looked Cece up and down. Had this incredibly fierce, insanely beautiful, calm and composed woman really found herself with snot all down her face, sobbing her heart out during a simple yoga class?
‘If you say so.’
‘I do! And do you know what else I say?’
Cece had begun to walk the pair towards the exit, the swathes of material blowing wide open in the strong ocean breeze.
‘Go on …’ Olivia shoved her feet into her shoes.
‘I say we get some breakfast. I know agreatlittle place that does the most amazing pancakes. Can I tempt you?’
Olivia’s mind flew to a thousand excuses she could make, a hundred reasons why a relaxing morning breakfast would not be conducive to her schedule, but something inside her answered before her default ‘no’ could come out of her mouth.
‘Sure. That sounds nice.’
‘Great!’ Cece flung her braid over her shoulder and nodded in the direction of the road. ‘We go this way.’
They left the yoga space and headed away from the ocean, walking along a dirt path that ran parallel to the busy main road. Although the traffic was far from light, the rush of mopeds and the honking of tuk-tuks didn’t affect Olivia as it had in the bigger cities. Maybe the yoga was doing something to her inner world after all.
It wasn’t long before they arrived at a little whitewashed cafe, hidden amongst a nest of palms.
‘This is socute,’ Olivia gasped, as they stepped inside.
The space was filled with a mishmash of colours and materials; the walls were covered with abstract paintings and fabric hangings. Squashy sofas and wicker chairs gathered in small groups, decorated with throws and woven pillows. In every corner stood a collection of plants, their burst of green leaves singing brightly against the white stone and mosaic floor.
‘Isn’t it?’ Cece guided them over to a free table.
‘Yeah, I would never have found this place by myself.’
‘Most people don’t like to wander too far away from the seafront.’ Cece shrugged. ‘But when you’ve been here a while, it’s nice to mix it up.’
‘I can imagine.’ Olivia picked up the menu and began to scan it hungrily. ‘How long did you say you’ve been out here for?’
‘Nearly six months now.’ Cece leant back in her chair and hooked one long leg over the other, flashing Olivia with works of tattooed art that she had yet to see. ‘I can’t believe it. I only planned to come out for two weeks.’
‘What made you stay?’
Cece rested her chin on her hand. ‘I guess I sort of fell in love with the place. There was an opportunity to teach yoga; I could swim in the ocean every day, surf, lie on the beach, eat good food. It felt stupid to leave.’
Olivia was trying hard to hide her scepticism. ‘But don’t you miss home? Living out of a suitcase and being away from your family must be hard, no?’
‘Yes and no.’ Cece let out a long exhale. ‘My family is very small – it’s literally only me and my mum. And of course I miss her all the time, but she had big dreams for me. She wanted me to see the world, to go and explore and have adventures. She practically packed my bags for me when I told her I wanted to go abroad!’
Olivia couldn’t help but wonder if her mum would have done the same for her, if Leah hadn’t got sick. If their whole world hadn’t become about doctors’ appointments and hospital visits. What would her mum have dreamt for her? For all of them? A pang of sadness twinged in her chest.
‘And in terms of living out of a suitcase,’ Cece continued, ‘there’s a strange type of freedom when all your possessions can be carried on your back. I feel so much lighter than I did back home. Don’t you?’
Olivia chewed over Cece’s words carefully. Although the weight of her backpack had left near permanent red marks on her shoulders, there was something freeing about it. The ease that came with only having a select few items of clothes to choose from each day. All the hundreds of pounds she’dspent on perfumes and beauty creams, the toiletries that she swore she couldneverlive without, now reduced to a face wash and sun cream.
‘In a way.’ She pulled at her once white T-shirt. ‘Although I can’t pretend I’m not dying to get back to using a proper washing machine when I’m home.’
‘I’ll give you that.’ Cece nodded at a passing waiter. ‘Are you ready to order?’
