‘You have my word,’ he says stiffly, turning away to busy himself with his bags.
A hippy campervan pulls up and beeps rudely in our faces. ‘TAXI FOR WELLNESS SPA AND RETREAT!’ screeches the driver from his window at everyone in the crowd jostling to retrieve their cases. Thank goodness, my escape vehicle has arrived.
‘Here!’ We both yell in unison before looking startled at each other.
The driver leaps out of his car, waving his piece of paper.
‘Oleevair, yes? And Eeeleay… elly-nelly-ay-nor? Yes?’
‘Eleanor. Nell, yes.’
I can’t effing believe it. Oliver looks as rattled as me as we climb into the van. We sit next to each other as the driver throws our bags in after us, plonks himself down and yells over his shoulder, ‘You late!’
We just have time to belt ourselves in, before we are thrown backwards as the van speeds off.
‘What are the chances?’ Oliver jokes to break the awkward silence. He is gripping the door handle tightly to avoid being thrown on top of me, as we take a bend at breakneck speed. ‘How long are you staying at the retreat?’
‘Three days,’ I say, clinging onto the seat for dear life as the van hurtles through the town taking every corner at a 45° angle. ‘You?’
‘Same. I’ve booked The Happy Bunny package,’ he says trying to straighten up. ‘You?’
‘The stress buster. The Platinum Triple Worry Plus package.’
‘Ah, yes,’ he says understandingly. ‘Good choice.’
Patronising.
So, so patronising.
Chapter 5
Finally,thebuilt-upsurroundingsmelt away to reveal glorious mountain views and rustic landscapes, and the van slows to thirty miles above the speed limit. It would be lovely, mindful even, but I have to listen to Oliver bleating on for 30 minutes, thinking he is helping me with his persistent warnings about webs of lies getting out of hand and consequences and so on.
There’s no need for this level of conversation. I am already embarrassed to my core about it all, the Olympic gold medal standard of rudeness I have displayed, and my overall panicky hot-mess exterior. Plus, he’s taking up most of the back seat with his hugeness. Plus, the more I look at him, the more handsome he gets.
‘Some say it’s better to think with your eyes closed. It really focuses the mind. Otherwise, there’s a tendency to drift,’ he says.
The only things drifting are my eyes, from the trees that line the road to his incredibly good-looking face.
I am suddenly aware of how attracted I am to him. It causes a heat to rise from my neck.
‘Being out of work can have a big impact on your self-esteem and sense of identity. If your job has always been a big part of your life, it can make you wonder who you are without it,’ he says, tapping his hand on his knee. He has incredibly muscular legs. ‘I’d say be kind to yourself during this difficult time. Use it as a chance to reflect on what makes you feel happy and fulfilled. To plot a course to the future. In fact–’
Of course, he’d have all the answers. The good-looking ones always do.
‘Thanks, but that’s kind of why I’ve booked this retreat. Time to think things through? By myself?’ I glance down to see his beefy biceps are touching me, causing an unnecessary fluttering in my stomach. I shift away from him slightly.
He stares at me with a bemused expression. I take no notice of his slightly raised eyebrows and sit silently, staring out of the window, pretending to think things through instead of wondering whether he can sense the effect he is having on me.
I bolt out of the van as soon as we arrive at our destination.
‘Here, I’ll help you with your bags,’ Oliver offers.
‘No thanks.’
‘Suit yourself,’ he says, marching off slightly ahead of me to the reception. With any luck this place will be big enough to avoid bumping into him, while I am here figuring out how to become a convincing life coach, while also contemplating the rest of my life, while also getting to grips with the language, while also trying NOT to have a massive bloody stroke with the stress.
A serene-looking elderly gentleman in a white kaftan floats towards us, gently flicking his long grey hair over his shoulder. ‘Velcome, velcome, velcome. Vee heff bin expecting you. Pleez follow me.’
