A murmur of welcomes rippled around the terrace and Cecily saw faces glowing in the golden light of evening, all turned to her expectantly. She felt suddenly shy. There were maybe a dozen women there, sitting in groups looking relaxed and happy. Most of them had the same vivid drink as she did but others cupped steaming mugs in their hands, which seemed odd on a hotel terrace in Greece, but she supposed wasn’t, really.
‘Hello,’ she said to the collected mass, shrugging apologetically. ‘Isn’t it a beautiful evening?’
The small group nearest to her pulled their chairs back and made a space for Cecily to sit.
‘Right,’ said Sofia. ‘Enjoy your drinks and I’ll see you all for dinner at eight.’
Cecily turned her attention back to the group that she was now with. There were five around her table: two young women in their twenties whose skin and hair shone with health and who appeared to be friends already, judging by the way they were sitting, and then three older women who she suspected were also travelling solo. None were as old as she was, not that that mattered.
They smiled at her warmly but then returned to the conversations that they had been having before her arrival. Cecily tried to tune in. The younger two were discussing where to buy the best yoga wear and complaining about the cost. It wasn’t a topic that Cecily could add much to so she turned her attention to the others. They were discussing diets that they had tried and failed with. Cecily didn’t feel excluded, but at the same time there was no need to contribute to the discussion. It seemed to be enough just to sit and smile benignly and she was grateful that the group didn’t appear to be at all cliquey.
Could any of them be her, she wondered? Cecily drank in their faces as they spoke, searching for anything familiar but finding nothing. Was this how the week was going to be, with her staring at strangers and chasing shadows?
‘Whereabouts in Yorkshire do you live?’ asked the woman nearest to her, making her jump. She was plump with a blonde, frizzy halo of hair that looked like it needed a good cut.
‘Harrogate,’ said Cecily. ‘Do you know it?’
‘My husband’s brother lives in Doncaster, but we don’t speak to him any more,’ the woman replied, as if this explained her entire understanding of the county.
‘Where are you from?’ asked Cecily. God, she hated small talk.
‘Milton Keynes,’ came the reply.
All Cecily knew about Milton Keynes was that it had been a new town and there were concrete cows. Or at least there had been. She had no idea if they were still there and worried that mentioning them might make her sound out of date.
‘How lovely,’ she said instead. ‘And how long have you been here?’
‘I arrived on Friday. I’m here for two weeks. I’m juicing,’ she added with significance.
Cecily had no idea what that meant and it must have shown on her face.
‘Instead of eating,’ the woman clarified. ‘Which is a shame, because the food is fantastic here. But needs must . . .’ She patted her stomach, which wobbled like jelly and made Cecily feel slightly nauseous.
‘Oh, I see,’ she said. ‘Is that hard? Not eating, I mean.’ Cecily couldn’t imagine existing solely on juice; surely it couldn’t be good for you.
‘It’s not so bad,’ the woman said. ‘You get used to it. And no pain, no gain. Or loss, as the case would have it.’ She chuckled to herself in a cheerful kind of way. ‘I’m Sue,’ she added.
‘Cecily,’ said Cecily.
After that Cecily followed the conversation as it flitted backwards and forwards, smiling and trying to look engaged and interested but without contributing much. The sun was dropping fast in the sky now, a fiery ball against a backdrop of orange and pink. From this terrace you would be able to see when it reached the water and there was already a golden triangle of light resting on the rippling waves. When her girls were little, Cecily had told them that if they listened hard they might hear the sun hiss as it hit the water. Her children were never far from her mind, she realised, even though they were grown up with children of their own.
Then Cecily thought about Norman, alone in their house in Harrogate, and worried about how he was getting along. No doubt he would be working on his jigsaw and would settle down later with whatever drama was on the television at nine o’clock. She would be on his mind too, she knew. She would call tomorrow, when she had something to report.
At eight o’clock and without any prompting the women all stood and began to move towards the dining room, as if pre-programmed. Cecily, now so hungry that her stomach was almost painful, was happy to follow them.
The high-ceilinged dining room was set with four large tables, each with appetising bowls of food placed in the centre. Cecily drifted from the group that she’d been with and found a seat with a different one, just in case there was a face she might recognise amongst the women there. No one seemed to object and soon she was tucking into a huge plate of food. It was very fresh and absolutely delicious, just as the woman on the bus had said.
Cecily was serving herself a second helping when Sofia appeared at her elbow. She was holding various pieces of paper.
‘I have to pop out, Cecily, so we’ll catch up properly tomorrow, but these are for you. There’s a health screening form and the programme for the week. All the classes are out on the covered terrace next to the pool, so just take yourself there five minutes beforehand. There’s no pressure. You can do as little or as much as you like.’
Cecily took the papers. ‘Thanks, Sofia,’ she said.
‘And there’s this, too,’ said Sofia, and handed her a sealed envelope. Mrs C. Nightingale was typed on the front. Sofia held her gaze for a moment, as if trying to convey the significance of this third document. Cecily felt her stomach lurch and all the delicious food that she had just consumed seemed to turn to stone inside her.
‘Thank you,’ she managed to say.
‘No worries. So I’ll see you in the morning. Enjoy your evening and sleep well.’
Cecily nodded, but if this letter was from Marnie then she couldn’t imagine that she would sleep at all.
9
Somehow Cecily got through the rest of dinner with the envelope burning a hole in her handbag. Part of her was desperate to run back to her room and tear it open, but instead she stayed where she was, dying to know yet fearful of the knowledge.
It was more than she could manage to make conversation, though, so she just sat and appeared to be listening as the chat continued around her, nodding from time to time and smiling but contributing nothing. Her mind was full of the envelope and the knowing look on Sofia’s face as she handed it over. What had it meant?
It had to be another message from Marnie. There was no other explanation that made any sense, but the idea made Cecily feel lightheaded and distanced from what was going on around her, as if someone had turned the volume down. Again, Cecily cast her eyes around the collected group. Was Marnie amongst them? Most of them were too young, a couple too old, and the remainder? Well, she had no idea, but there was no spark of connection to any of them. And surely there would be. She felt sure there would.
So she just sat there until she felt strong enough to move.
After the dishes had been cleared, the other women began to drift away from the tables in little groups, some outside to go and enjoy the warmth of the evening and others cupping mugs of steaming herbal tea in their hands and heading towards the comfy chairs in the lounge. There was a real camaraderie, a sense of belonging, even though most of them appeared to be strangers to one another. Laughter rang out from various tables across the terrace and out into the darkening night beyond and, for a moment, Cecily thought that if she just tried a little harder, spoke to someone new, she could easily be absorbed into the heart of the group. She could make the most of this impromptu trip, putting aside whatever else may come from it.