Rita was adjusting her hair for the fifth time, as cars – including the only three taxis that serviced the bay – crunched one after the other up the gravel drive. She had asked them all to arrive at three thirty and remarkably all five of them had turned up bang on time.
Her heart hammered against her ribs. This was really happening. Actual paying guests. For one terrible moment, she wondered if she’d completely lost her mind, but then she saw people stepping out, stretching their legs, pointing at the sea view with delighted faces. The nerves loosened, just a touch, and excitement rushed in to take their place.
Stepping out of the Snack Shack marquee, she fixed a beaming smile, quietly repeating under her breath, ‘You’ve got this, girl.’
She mouthed, ‘Take a seat’ to each of them as they filedin whilst Teo arranged their luggage at the back of the marquee ready to take up to the yurts in Archie’s Land Rover.
Kelly appeared from the side door, precariously balancing a tray dotted with champagne flutes filled with pale, fragrant elderflower fizz. She nodded to Rita, who signalled back to her to start handing them around.
Rita took in a huge, visible breath. ‘Welcome, everybody, to the Seahaven Bay Retreat. I’m Rita Jory and this place is my new baby, so to speak.’ Another deep breath. ‘The plan is to run it like clockwork, of course, but you need to bear in mind we are on a farm, where the animals don’t respond to “No noise please.”’ She paused to add,Especially Nigel the cockerel, then sadly remembered his demise.
A ripple of polite laughter moved through the group. ‘And, secondly, we are in Cornwall where our microclimate doesn’t respond to’ – Rita assumed a thick Cornish accent – ‘“no rain or mizzle please”, either.’
More polite laughter.
‘As well as chickens, we’ve got goats. Camilla, the pure white one, has a knack for escaping. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if she told me she was pregnant by the end of the week. So, if you do see her on the run, please let one of the team know.’
Stronger laughter.
Rita lifted her glass. ‘A little something to celebrate new beginnings for us all – non-alcoholic, may I add. To get you going before the real work begins.’
‘Work?’ a big-busted woman in a flowery kaftan repeated. ‘I’m only here to have a good time and maybe find myself a handsome distraction, if I’m lucky.’
Rita chuckled to herself, but when one of the two men in the group took a swig of the fizz and then casually slipped a tiny bottle of vodka from his pocket to top it up, she couldn’t help but wonder exactly what she’d let herself in for.
Zenya and Teo had now joined her up the front.
‘I’d like to introduce you to Zenya and Teo.’ The beautiful pairsmiled broadly. ‘You will be seeing a lot of them around the place. Teo is our yoga guru, and as well as some stretching and soul work, he will be taking those of you who like a wildlife hike on some amazing walks, plus tempting you to dip in the ocean down at Seahaven Cove for some cold-water swimming. Zenya here will be in charge of our gong and breathwork classes, plus moonlight mantras which we hope will open up some soul searching and meaningful conversations. There is a leaflet with all of the classes and times in your yurts, so don’t worry about remembering all of this. Plus, there is a map of the local area and plan of the site here. My mobile is on there, too, should you not be able to find anyone to ask.’
‘Sounds like a blessed army camp if you ask me,’ Vodka Man snorted. The other four guests all gave him a look. He harrumphed. ‘Sorry, sorry. Let’s just say I’m not here of my own free will and leave it at that for now, shall we?’ The man’s deep voice boomed.
‘Jesus,’ Zenya whispered in earshot of Rita and Teo.
‘Zenya and Teo will be taking your luggage up to your yurts, so goodbye for now, you two.’ The pair left with a smile and a wave.
Rita cleared her throat. ‘Gosh, I feel like I’m going on a bit.’
‘No, it’s great you are so organised,’ a thin, bespectacled woman in her early thirties added quietly.
‘Fabulous.’ Rita smiled at the encouragement. ‘So, bear with me while I rattle through the rest.’ She checked her notes. ‘Oh yes… The six…’ Kelly kicked her gently. ‘I mean, seven areas you need to be aware of are as follows: High Meadow, where your yurts are positioned. I don’t think even the most cynical person would be able to complain at the view up there.’ She didn’t dare catch Vodka Man’s eye. ‘The Singing Tree, located near to where your yurts are positioned, is a beautiful old sycamore under which you can get some shade and rest and meditate. Here, which is the Snack Shack where we will serve cold lunches and hot dinners. Breakfast will be a hamper full of Cornish goodies, plus a healthy option and various beverages. It will be left outside your door at seven a.m. every morning with the choice of eating alone or on the picnic tables up there.’
‘I take it there will be coffee?’ Vodka Man shouted out.
‘Yes, and I can promise it won’t be instant.’ Rita gritted her teeth. ‘All food served at the retreat will be vegetarian, with no alcohol provided. But for those of you who can’t bear the thought of no fish, meat, or booze then there’s a great pub called the Winking Pilchard, plus other eateries down in the bay which is a short bus or car ride down the hill. And for which I have discount vouchers.’
‘The Winking fucking Pilchard. Fucking genius,’ Vodka Man announced, causing everyone to hesitantly laugh.
‘What about vegans?’ an overweight girl with purple hair and a septum piercing piped up, her phone held high, as she filmed the proceedings.
‘Allkalethe vegans,’ the distractor boomed. Everybody ignored him.
‘And, sorry… I don’t know all your names yet…’ Rita addressed Vegan Girl.
‘Lola,’ she replied, pressing a stop to her recording.
Rita’s voice remained calm but firm. ‘I’d rather you didn’t film now. I think it’s important we respect guests’ space. Some people might not want to be on camera. After all, I can imagine a few of you are here to take a break from the madness that is social media.’
Lola lowered her phone with a small, theatrical pout.
