‘Thank God Michael was snoring like a warthog,’ Lola added. ‘Far too early to face a drunken, misogynistic pig.’
‘Yo. That’s harsh, lady,’ Paul piped up. ‘Hurt people, hurt people and all that.’
Eager to defuse the situation, Teo ushered everyone to sit down cross-legged on their mats.
‘OK, let’s find some peace in this beautiful setting, shall we? Take one huge breath in, hold for four seconds, and let it out forocho… eight… eight, I mean.’
As the salty sea breeze carried the waves crashing against the shore and gulls screeched their approval of the warm day ahead, Teo Serrano looked completely in his element.
‘OK,amigos,’ he continued, his white grin highlighted by his tanned skin. ‘This morning, we move, breathe, and move some more. Vinyasa. Flow like the sea,sí?’
The trio shifted to attention, their eyes on him as he brought his hands to heart centre.
‘Big inhale… reach to the sky,’ he instructed, rising with the breath. ‘Exhale… fold forward. Let go of the weight you are carrying.’
They moved through sun salutations, each transition smooth, almost dance-like. Teo flowed with them, his voice steady andencouraging. The sounds and view of the ocean lowering their heart rates without them having to try.
‘Don’t worry if you wobble,’ he called out. ‘Life is wobbly. Yoga helps us to ride the ups and downs.’
Annie laughed and threw herself off balance.
Teo stepped between mats, gently adjusting Lola’s stance, offering a quiet ‘Perfecto’ to Paul. The Spaniard’s calming energy was magnetic.
As the class reached its final downward dog, Teo smiled and said, ‘Now we rest. You have earned it. Let the breath do the work and then we go down to theplayato swim.’
So far, so good, Rita thought as she made her way up to the High Meadow in her trusty Jimny. She had been delighted that the breakfast hamper execution had worked like clockwork, with Derek delivering them exactly on time and the contents looking and smelling better than she had imagined
‘I won’t be long, girls,’ she shouted from the car window to the goats and chickens, already impatient for their breakfast.
Quietly pulling up a few metres from the yurts, she was just unloading the cool bags when she was startled by a massive ‘ATCHOO!’
She smiled to herself. Everything about Michael Stone was loud, even his sneeze.
Tiptoeing past the spot where the eruption had come from, she heard a zip being pulled open. Michael appeared, blinking like a mole, his silver-grey hair now reminiscent of Doc Brown stepping out of his DeLorean.
He croaked, ‘Breakfast in bed. How delightful.’
Rita gave him a measured glance.
He looked sheepish. ‘I’m rather hoping there’s at least athree-strike rule here.’
Rita put his breakfast hamper down in front of his yurt and smiled. ‘I’d best get the bouncers in, then.’
‘Look, I’m sorry.’ Rita could tell that Michael meant it. ‘I was loud, probably rude. Not exactly the ideal guest in your little slice of paradise.’
Rita continued placing the hampers outside the other yurts. ‘I appreciate that, but I think it’s the others you want to be saying sorry to, not me.’
He put his hand to his messy hair and raised his voice. ‘Ironic that a fuc— I mean, flipping divorce lawyer gets divorced. It would have been all right if she hadn’t been one too.’
‘Ouch.’ Rita smiled, coming back over to Michael as he was easing himself onto one of the deckchairs outside.
‘Moved back in with my daughter, who very quickly realised that was a terrible idea. Told me to come here. Sort myself out. Stop drinking so much. Stop being such a cu— I mean… mess.’
‘To be clear, we’re not a health retreat, as such, Michael.’
‘And I’m not an alcoholic as such, Rita. Just lost my way a bit, you know.’ Rita noticed the sadness in his yes.
Rita bit her lip. ‘I kind of do, yes.’
