‘Today, we conquer the roof circles, no?’ he declared, arms raised in mock triumph as he approached.
Rita blinked in surprise. ‘Teo? I didn’t expect you here this morning.’
He grinned, taking another bite of banana. ‘Well, nobody brought me breakfast. And I said I would work for that.’ He actioned a theatrical shrug. ‘And the secret to happiness,amiga, is low expectations, so we are all happy,sí?’
He laughed at his own joke with such good-natured charm that even Stan, who rarely smiled before 9 a.m., let out a quiet chuckle.
Rita shook her head, but a reluctant smile tugged at her lips, too. Teo was already worth his weight in gold. Perhaps with him and Zenya now on the payroll she really could manage after all.
By lunchtime, Rita was in the Jimny ready to take lunch supplies to the High Meadow when Zenya, barefoot and muddy-kneed, waved and beckoned her over to the vegetable patch where she’d spent the morning digging and planting.
Rita stood at the edge, hands on hips, her face agog as she squinted slightly in the midday sun. The air was rich with the scent of freshly turned soil and mint. ‘Wow! I can’t believe what you’ve achieved in such a short time.’
Zenya’s face lit up with pride. She brushed a loose curl fromher forehead, leaving a smudge of earth on her cheek. ‘I’ve enjoyed every second. We’ve got courgettes, cucumbers, and tomatoes in the greenhouse, and beetroot, lettuce, and radishes in the ground. I thought a herb garden would be sweet, too, nothing fancy, just the basics. Plus, I love green beans. And runner beans. I just need to find some sticks for these.’
‘Look in Archie’s workroom, blue door.’ Rita pointed towards the courtyard. ‘You’ll probably find everything you need in there. That’s where the tools were, right?’
‘Yep. Brilliant, thanks! We need to find a piece of glass from somewhere and I’ll fix the pane in the greenhouse too.’ Zenya wiped her hands on her jeans and glanced towards the far end of the meadow. ‘And are you sure you don’t need any help up there with the yurts?’
‘No, honestly, you doing this is more than enough.’ Rita smiled and leaned against the fence. ‘I’ll introduce you properly to Teo later too. He seems like such a good lad.’
Zenya raised an eyebrow. ‘Don’t you go trying to set me up, Rita Jory. I’m not exactly in the habit of letting anyone in these days, in fact, ever. I’m happy on my own. And aside me noteverhaving had sexual relations with a man shorter than me, he looks about twelve.’
Rita laughed. ‘Calm down, he’s twenty-five and likes Manuels not Marias, so you’re safe there.’
‘Oh.’ Zenya grinned.
‘Right, onwards and upwards.’ Rita walked towards the Jimny, then turned back. ‘I’m so happy we met, Zenya. I really mean that. And I’m so grateful for what you’ve done here, already; it’s a miracle.’
If it weren’t for the beating sunlight, she was sure that she could see tears in Zenya’s eyes.
EIGHTEEN
Two weeks later, the yurts were up, the compost loos ready for bottoms, and the outbuildings and barn scrubbed and fit for purpose. The promotional leaflets had been passed around locally, and the Seahaven Bay Retreat was already getting attention online.
Before Archie had passed away, Rita had never been an avid user of social media, but with more time on her hands, she had become what Sennen called a ‘reluctant scroller’. She’d had to get extremely au fait with Facebook and Instagram as marketing tools, and although she wasn’t quite brave enough to post a live Reel, Rita had to admit the retreat’s Instagram page scrubbed up nicely, thanks mostly to Zenya’s filter-fancy thumbs and Teo’s insistence on ‘luz naturalonly’.
Today’s marketing blurb had gone out with the headline announcing:Book today for an extraordinary one-off introductory rate of 25 per cent off for our month-long SEA, BREATH AND SOUL ESCAPE starting on 1 July.Just five places left!
Rita figured no one need know there were just five places in total and if the miraculous happened this month and they were oversubscribed, they could offer those interested parties other dates.
Now, it was just a waitinggame.
The yurts looked like something out of a bohemian fairy tale. Each one was kitted out with thick, patterned rugs and gloriously squashy mattresses – Rita’s decision, which she stood firmly by, even if it meant blowing half the budget on memory foam. She’d reasoned that if people were going to be predominantly using a compost toilet and having to share a shower, they at least deserved a good night’s kip. She’d originally planned to use real candles, but after reading about the fire risk in a yurt, she wisely switched to some surprisingly effective fake ones. And no one need know the rugs were half from the charity shop; the other half she’d found rolled up in the hayloft.
Figuring hungry guests wouldn’t be happy guests, she didn’t want to starve anyone either. It wasn’t a fitness or weight loss retreat after all, more of a massage for the mind. Betty had agreed to supply daily breakfast hampers, Betty’s Tearoom style! They were to consist of Seahaven Bay Retreat branded cool bags, filled with two flasks, one with coffee and one with hot water, English breakfast tea bags, plus a selection of herbal ones, plus a mini milk bottle. A cinnamon bun and a scone with jam and cream provided the tasty treat. Just in case guests moaned at the thought of putting white flour and sugar down their crops, there would be a large bottle of mineral water. Plus Rita had done a deal with Hawthorn Farm down the road to include fresh strawberries from their ‘pick your own’ field – a fruit which would take them up until August at least and then she could revert to apples and pears from the orchard as the healthy option. To finish off the feast, a natural yoghurt. She had put a couple of picnic tables outside the yurts so if guests wanted to eat together then they could or if they wanted solitude, their sea-facing yurts had a chair and small table outside also.
To benefit another local business, she had also thought that leaving a book in every yurt would be a nice touch and an added takeaway. Jude had obviously been delighted, and Rita had entrusted him with choosing exactly the right words required to fit the setting.
To keep costs down, and perhaps to avoid any unexpected barbecue disasters in the High Meadow, Rita had opted to go fully vegetarian. Zenya had agreed to be resident chef and would offer salads and rolls for lunch and a freshly cooked evening meal. This would be prepared in the farm kitchen. They had yet to decide where to serve it. And if anyone couldn’t go without meat, fish, or alcohol then Rita figured they could get the bus down to the harbour and the Winking Pilchard, for which Pete the landlord had gladly given her a load of ‘buy one meal get a drink free’ vouchers. She really must get around to seeing Jilly again to see if she may do some sort of discount on the Pilates sessions too.
As it was Sunday and her semi day of rest, with chickens and goats fed, social media duties signed off and a cup of tea drunk, Rita wanted to enjoy the balmy June weather. Pulling on a summer dress and trainers, she headed towards the High Meadow with Henry the labrador at her heels.
She was surprised to see Teo busy draping fairy lights from one yurt to another with the precision of a Formula One driver taking a bend. Zenya, in a haze of lavender oil and eucalyptus, was arranging jars of dried wildflowers and placing little handwritten notes onto pillowcases that read, BREATHE IN. BEGIN AGAIN.
Stan had crafted two rustic wooden signs, one that he’d fixed to the main gate and another that was now stuck in the ground in front of Yurt Avenue, Rita’s new name for the row of fancy tents,which, thanks to Hilda’s input, read,SEAHAVEN BAY RETREAT – WHERE THE SEA MEETS YOUR SOUL.
Zenya and Teo stopped what they were doing and joined Rita on Archie’s bench.
