She has no idea why Alexei’s not modelling for billboards in Times Square: his face is like a sculpture made by some Italian master and his bare bronzed chest speaks of many, many hours of yoga or something.
Keera finds herself flushing at the thought of the ‘something’.
‘Phew, hot in here,’ she says to India, who grins.
India doesn’t seem as affected by the sight of Alexei. She’s doubtless seen many beautiful people with yoga/gym bodies at home and she’s immune at this stage. India’s always felt she’s too gangly; she thinks that no self-respecting gym bunny wants a girlfriend without visible muscle.
After ascertaining what their preferences are, Alexei leads the two women in forty minutes of energising viniyoga flow.
By the end, he’s not even sweating but Keera feels her legs wobbling as she gets up after five minutes of a relaxing savasana.
‘I don’t know if I can make it onto the beach for meditation and a barbecue,’ she says as they slowly climb the stairs to their rooms.
‘A cold shower and you’ll be fine,’ says India, still bouncy.
‘How come you’re not in a coma too?’
‘I’m hyper flexible,’ says India, folding her torso onto her legs in a perfect yoga fold to show Keera.
‘Wow. I’m not even normally flexible,’ says Keera in awe.
That evening, the beach is transformed.
‘It looks wonderful!’ Rose says to Christos, gazing at what he’s done.
There are mats on the sand along with the villa’s dark wooden loungers and sun parasols in deep cream. Inkeeping with the quiet luxury of Villa Artemis, Christos and his team have laid out soft lounger cushions and beautiful blue beach towels, as well as light throws in azure blues and sunshine yellows in case it’s cold.
Small tables beside the loungers hold water, fruit and the handblown blue glasses that Rose loves.
Citronella candles glow on two low tables, while Christos has already perfumed the area with herbs on the barbecue, set up a hundred yards away from the meditation end and already full of white-hot coals.
Adriana and Beata have been arranging everything prettily, Christos explains, and Rose already knows that his cousin’s teenage sons were keen to earn extra pocket money hefting all the umbrellas, sunbeds and the barbecue things onto the beach.
Rose feels a sense of pride in the Villa Artemis staff as she watches everyone arrive onto the beach.
She, Adriana and Christos have created this beautiful escape from the world and it is already a success.
‘Hello!’ chorus Keera and India, arriving together. They’re laughing about external oblique muscles, while Dan walks a step behind them, looking both weary and wary.
Dianne, who Rose noticed sitting high up in the acropolis the previous evening, walks slowly down the sandy path with a big glass of wine. She’s bright in an emerald-green tennis top this evening and looks just as wary as Dan.
Grazia follows Dianne, cigarette in a long, elegant hand, looking as if she’s about to join an international cocktail party instead of a beachside meditation.
While Grazia gets herself some wine, Rose thinks it’s a pity she didn’t stipulate no drinks before meditation but realises that it’s too late now. Christos, ever the super host, has put it out.
Bernard’s the last to arrive and ostentatiously sits apart from his wife, setting himself up like a pasha on his lounger with several cushions behind him.
Dianne glares at Bernard but he pretends that he doesn’t notice.
Rose feels it’s time to extract Dianne’s hidden story, but she knows it won’t be easy.
Dianne is clearly determined to walk away with her secrets intact.
Rose recalls what Dianne’s daughter, Lauren, told her: their father had died tragically a year earlier and Dianne had changed afterwards. How exactly had Dianne’s husband died? Rose wonders.
For now, Dianne is on the to-be-done list; Grazia and Bernard are on the ‘today’ Post-it.
Despite the chatter, the group are certainly tired out.
