She cleared her throat nervously.

  ‘I’m Emily.’ She was almost inaudible. ‘An accountant. Thirty-three. I didn’t… really want to come, but my company thought I needed “a reset”. I’m um… here for the peace and to read books. So, if I don’t say much, it’s not personal. It’s just… me.’

  Everyone softened a little at that. Even Michael.

  Rita clapped her hands gently. ‘Thank you all for sharing. Or not sharing. Either way, you’re here, and that’s the main thing. Dinner is at seven thirty, a delicious vegetable chilli, with ingredients straight from the farmhouse garden, and Zenya will be doing a moon stretch class in the orchard afterwards. Optional but good for the glutes.’

  ‘And the gut,’ Zenya added.

  ‘Not after a blessed chilli,’ Michael added.

  Teo raised his mug. ‘And remember, if you hear bells at night, it’s just the Singing Tree. Or maybe the goats.’

  ‘Or your conscience,’ Paul added dryly with a smirk, catching Rita’s eye.

  Lola gasped excitedly. ‘Do we get to meet the goats?’

  And just like that, under the rustling branches of the Singing Tree, the group began to take its first wobbly step towards becoming something more than strangers. Or at least, an eclectic mixture of characters who might survive a month with limited Wi-Fi.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Rita, knowing that she had promised to get the breakfast baskets up to the yurts by seven sharp, set her alarm for five thirty, had a quick shower, and went downstairs to make herself a coffee. Betty had kindly said that as she and her Derek were up baking from 3 a.m. anyway, one of them would drop the cool bags at the end of the farm drive daily to save Rita coming down the hill. Another reason for getting up early was to be nosy and see if any of the guests had joined Teo for his first trek, yoga and swim session at Seahaven Cove. Once they had found some kind of routine, she told herself she would get Teo to do a private session with her. Just the short ten minutes of relaxation that he had shared in the orchard certainly had certainly made her feel lighter – until Jago had arrived, that was.

  ‘Hola, chica.’ A sleepy Teo arrived, grabbing a coffee for himself and hunting for the Land Rover keys in the pot on the kitchen side. It had been a no-brainer for Rita to get him insured on Archie’s vehicle. She had found out that her cheerful yoga instructor was fine to drive with his Spanish licence and had said as long as she didn’t need it for guests, he could use it at his leisure, too, which had delighted him.

  ‘Let us see if anyone has got out of bed, shall we?’ Rita said aloud, nursing her coffee and spying out of the window. She was not only delighted to see that Lola, Paul and Annie had made it down from the High Meadow but also at how polite and proficient Teo was in greeting them all.

  Seahaven Bay boasted two beaches: a long, expansive sandy stretch loved by surfers, and Seahaven Cove, a small, quiet inlet so hidden even satnavs struggled to find its small car park. The cove, a favourite of early morning swimmers, was framed by tall, weathered cliffs streaked with wild gorse and heather. Unlike the sandy beach, here there were only smooth grey pebbles, flattened and polished by time and weather. Reaching the cove required a half-mile walk along a wooded path that opened onto a flat grassy area with a breathtaking view of the horizon. From there, rugged steps had to be carefully negotiated to reach the peaceful, seaweed-strewn beach below. It was a perfect scenario and setting for a short hike, yoga and swim session.

  ‘Wow, this is amazing,’ Paul breathed, as the four of them stepped out of the wooded path and were hit by the full force of the view ahead, the vast sweep of ocean and stunning enclosed beach unfolding beneath the grassy hillock they were now standing on.

  Annie, puffing like a steam train, raised an eyebrow. ‘I take it you’ve never been to Cornwall before, then, Paul?’

  The long-haired musician gave a tired grin. ‘Nah, never. Been on my list but never made it, until now. I’ve travelled the world but seen nothing quite like this.’ He paused, letting the sea air fill his lungs. ‘Different kind of vibe.’

  ‘Should I know who you are?’ Annie had already been trying to take a sly photo which she could put into Google images as soon as the phone signal was good enough.

  Paul smiled wryly. ‘Probably not. I’m more of a background kind of guy. And that was the old me; I’m here now. OK. Just Paul. And I’d like you to get to know me as just Paul the person, OK?’

  ‘Bet. Gotcha,’ Annie replied, rocking her expensive designer tracksuit. She reached in her rucksack for her mat and a bottle of water.

  Lola, with her purple hair in two pigtails, tight black yoga pants enhancing her very round bottom and a BEETS NOT BEEF-branded T-shirt, screwed her face up at Annie’s attempt to get down with the kids.

  ‘So did you see the others this morning?’ Teo enquired, choosing a spot as near to the cliff edge as he dared to lay down his yoga mat without causing a landslide. The others followed.

  ‘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 for ocho… 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 and encouraging. 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 the playa to 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 a three-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.’

  It was tragic, Rita thought, in this now-frantic world, how little people knew about each other. Everyone so busy with their own their lives, rarely stopping to ask what might be going on underneath. She made a vow to do more asking.

  She looked to the view out over Seahaven Point. Gulls’ cries carrying on the salt-tinged breeze. Below, the sea murmured against the base of the cliffs, its surface glittering with kisses of sunlight. Kitesurfers danced on the waves in the far-off bay, and a fishing boat bobbed lazily near the horizon.

  ‘This really is a spectacular spot.’ Michael stared out at the ocean vista in front of him, too.

  ‘I know. I’m incredibly lucky, and Michael…’ Rita smiled warmly. ‘I’m sure you won’t be the last person to arrive here in bits.’

  He stuck out his bottom lip. ‘Your observation is oddly comforting. Like a TripAdvisor review for the emotionally rock bottom.’

  ‘Sorry, too much?’ Rita asked, worried that she might have upset him.

  ‘You’re asking me that question?’ Michael grinned, causing them both to laugh.

  Rita was just about to get in the Jimny and head down to feed the goats and hens when Emily appeared from under the Singing Tree, book in hand.

  ‘I’ve left your breakfast hamper outside,’ Rita offered quietly.

  Emily smiled shyly. ‘Thank you… and for this.’ She held the book up. ‘I love Rebecca. Second time for me. Have you read it?’ Rita nodded. Emily’s eyes were bright. ‘It’s so haunting, isn’t it? It made me think about how sometimes we’re trapped by the shadows of what came before us, even when we’re trying to start over.’

  ‘I guess sometimes we just have to find the courage to let the light in and move forward.’ Rita surprised herself with her own insight.

  ‘Thank you,’ Emily whispered.

  ‘Right, these animals won’t feed themselves. Bon appétit,’ Rita shouted as she sprang into the jeep.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Rita sat near the back of the bus, her bag on her lap, fingers absently tapping a rhythm against the strap. She was on her way down to the bay to pay Betty for this week’s hampers and also to pop into Sail Away to see Jude about the future retreat reads.

  As the number seven trundled past the drive that led up to Hawthorn Acre, something caught her eye. She turned instinctively toward the window. There, at the farm gate, stood Jago. Tall, dark and as handsome as ever with Meg, his trusty sheepdog, at his feet. And beside him, laughing, head thrown back, was a young man leaning against a gleaming silver Porsche. Rita’s stomach lurched. It looked just like her Thom, who was beginning to look more like her Archie each day. A double whammy of confusion.

  She blinked hard and looked again. The bus was already turning the corner, trees swallowing the view. Her forehead furrowed in confusion. No, it couldn’t have been. Thom hadn’t had anything to do with the Jenkens, ever. And surely he would have said if he was coming to Seahaven. But the confident way he was standing… The way he threw his head back when he laughed, just like his father had done before him. It seemed so familiar it made her throat tighten.

  You’re tired, she told herself, shaking her head gently. Too much going on. You’re seeing things.

  But as the bus approached the harbour, a quiet unease settled in her gut.

  Jude was busy serving a customer when Rita pushed open the door to her favourite bookshop. Needing a second to quieten her restless mind, she went to the back of the shop, got herself an espresso from the fancy coffee machine, sat on one of the Lloyd Loom chairs and took in the busy Tuesday morning view of the harbour. A fishing boat chugged steadily out towards the open ocean, its engine humming low and purposeful. Nearby, a Seahaven Bay Tours boat was being hosed down by the crew, sunlight catching the spray as they readied it for a day of trips along the coast.

  ‘You OK, Rita?’ Jude asked politely as if he had noticed the lack of her usual zesty energy. ‘It’s not like you to stop and stare.’

  She nodded too fast. ‘Yes. No. Oh, it’s probably nothing. I just thought I saw someone earlier, but it couldn’t have been him.’

  Jude didn’t ask. Instead, with folded arms, he leaned against the bookshelves and began to recite to her.

  ‘Why do you make me leave the house

  And think for a breath it is you I see

  At the end of the alley of bending boughs

  Where so often at dusk you used to be;

  Till in darkening dankness

  The yawning blankness

  Of the perspective sickens me!’

  A tear began to roll down Rita’s cheek. ‘“The Going”.’

  Jude nodded. ‘One of Hardy’s finest, in my humble opinion. All that loss and yearning for his first wife, whom he met down here in Cornwall, actually.’

  ‘I don’t know much about his real life.’ Rita downed her espresso.

  ‘He was a tortured character like most of our literary greats.’

  Rita sighed deeply. ‘I must have a read-up.’

  Jude joined her in the adjacent chair. ‘Grief, regret, memory… it never follows the rules, does it? Pops up when you least expect it. It’s not just the person we mourn, sometimes. It’s the could-have-beens, too.’

  ‘Tell me to bugger off if you want to, but who did you lose, Jude?’ Rita asked gently.

  ‘Long-term boyfriend left me for someone else.’ He took a breath. ‘It had been going downhill for a while, but I ignored it.’ He wobbled. ‘Smashed my heart in two, so I ran away and on arriving here and having time to be introspective, I realised I’d spent so long chasing crumbs of affection, I’d forgotten what it felt like to simply be at peace with myself. No drama. No longing. Just… stillness. And then look what happened… I took over Sail Away and followed my real passion.’

  ‘Well, it suits you, sir.’ Rita smiled. ‘The stillness and of course this wonderful bookshop.’

  Jude grinned. ‘I was thinking maybe a selection of Thomas Hardy for next week’s books. I aim to focus on authors and poets with some kind of tenuous connection to Cornwall. Do you think poetry would work?’

  ‘I think the guests should think themselves lucky they are getting such an added luxury. I’ve decided on two books for a month’s stay and any less than that, just the one.’

  ‘That’s fine by me.’ Jude smiled. ‘I really appreciate the business, thank you.’

  Rita took a sip of coffee. ‘And Hardy is perfect. It might do some of them good to delve into the mind of a man who emphasises that whatever emotional weight we place on the moment, nature is unmoved. That it is bigger than any of us.’

  ‘You’re one cool woman, do you know that, Rita Jory?’

  Rita blushed. Jude grinned as she stood up and threw her cardboard cup in the bin. ‘Thanks, Jude.’

  ‘No, thank you. You’re a good soul, Rita, and the retreat is a wonderful idea. I saw a flyer the other day that said to watch this space regarding opening up some of the classes to everyone. A cute Spanish guy was handing them out…’

  ‘That’s Teo. I think he might have said the same about you too.’ Rita winked.

  ‘Oof, OK,’ Jude replied camply, and laughed.

  ‘Drop me a message.’ She handed the bookseller one of her newly printed resort cards. ‘And I’ll send over the finished schedule. Half-price sessions for you, of course.’

  Jude frowned and shook his head. ‘Rita, that’s not the way to run a business. But allowing me to provide the retreat books at cost price, then, is.’ He held out his hand. ‘Deal.’

  ‘Deal.’ Rita grinned.

  She walked towards the door and looked back. ‘And Jude, it would be such a waste if you didn’t let somebody else in one day, you know.’

  Jude gulped. ‘Don’t be going all Tennyson on me now.’

  A few moments later, Rita pushed open the door to Jilly’s Pilates studio and eyed the nearest Reformer machine like it was a creature that might bite her.

  At the noise of the bell, Jilly swept in from the back in her Lycra uniform, hair tied tightly back, make-up flawless.

  ‘I knew you couldn’t resist coming back.’ Jilly laughed. ‘Let’s have a go at your pelvic floor today, see if you like that.’

  ‘I actually only popped in to see if you’d be willing to offer a small discount on your classes for my wellness groups. Thought it would give me a broader treatment range to offer, plus bring you some extra business.’

  ‘Ah, that’d be boss, thanks! Of course, I can do that, anything to help you out and keep the wolves from our doors. Now come on, get on your back, girl.’