Page 32 of Best Mistake Ever
Intrigued, I poke my head into the tent and see a large group of people sitting or lying around on a ground sheet covered with cushions and furry rugs, all hugging someone close to them.There’s nothing sexual about it – everyone is fully clothed, but there’s a lot of contented-sounding sighing going on.
My skin tingles at the thought of being held like that again. It’s been a long time since I cuddled anyone and after the aborted kiss with Dee last night, my body is back on high alert for physical contact.
Just as I’m about to step out of the tent again, the workshop leader calls out in a soothing voice for everyone to swap partners. There’s a big shift in movement as everyone untangles themselves from their cuddling partner and moves to wrap themselves around someone new, first asking that person’s permission. It seems, from the way they’re being so polite, that they don’t all know each other. It blows my mind for a second to see everyone so open to being that physically close to a stranger. It’s actually really cool though. If only this was a more common practice in the ‘real world’, there might be a lot less loneliness.
With that thought swirling through my head, I back away quietly and stroll over to the next tent, wondering what I’ll find happening in there.
It’s a shibari workshop.
People are sitting in a large circle, each with a partner, and with lengths of rope laid out neatly on the floor in front of them. The instructor is demonstrating on a volunteer how to safely tie someone up. They’ve already had their legs tied and are now having their torso bound in an intricate pattern of rope and knots, which looks a bit like a corset. It’s actually quite beautiful and I’m mesmerised by the skill of the person doing the tying.
Again, I back out quietly, feeling like a bit of a peeping Tom.
In the next tent, everyone is lying down on the ground while a couple of people walk slowly between them, playing percussion instruments like bells and gongs in overlapping, soothing-sounding waves. According to the blackboard, this is a sound bath. I’ve heard about these, how they can be good for stress, butI’ve never tried it myself. I’m not sure I could allow myself to sink into it enough to let it do me any good though. I’m definitely too strung out at the moment to lie still for long enough for it to have any impact on my rattled inner calm anyway.
I’d hoped, after moving here from the noise and chaos of London, that I’d finally start to find the peace that’s always eluded me – except when I’d been staying here at this house. But the stress only seemed to increase as I came to realise that Tessa wasn’t happy here.
A familiar sadness settles over me as I remember the good times we’d had together, mostly in my hedonistic, partying days.
I genuinely loved her and thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with her. She was my ideal woman: smart, funny, charismatic and an incredibly fun person to be around. It always felt like an adventure, being with her.
But I guess I wasn’t enough for her. It seems it was my fame, or rather my dad’s fame, that drew her to me and kept her around, but as soon as it was just me and her, it became clear I wasn’t enough on my own. She needed more than I could ever give her.
And she definitely didn’t need quiet like I did.
In fact, I think she actually thrives on chaos and busyness and noise.
Coming out of the tent, I’m aware of that sense of restlessness from this morning has returned. It’s like there’s something else I should be doing, but I’m not sure what that is.
Then I spot a familiar figure in the distance, going into one of the other marquee tents and something in my brain clicks into place. I’ve been hoping to see Dee, to smooth things over, and here’s my opportunity. Perhaps if we talk and maybe get to laugh about what happened, it’ll be okay. We’ll be able to get past it and my sense of agitation will pass.
So, I stride after her and make it into the tent in time to see her being handed a hula hoop by a woman wearing an all-in-one sequined leotard and a headdress made of beads.
Dee has a quick word with her, then smiles and walks into the middle of the room where there’s a space between people already attempting to get their own hoops to stay up on their waists by rocking their hips in a thrusting, sort of circular motion.
It takes me back to my infant school days where our teacher used to try, and mostly fail, to get us to be co-ordinated enough to do this in a PE lesson. I was always useless at it and ended up getting sent to sit on the side when I point blank refused to do it. So, when someone comes over and tries to hand me a hoop, I wave them away and move to the side to watch how Dee fares with hers.
It doesn’t seem to take her long to get into the swing of it and as I lurk at the back watching her, I feel even more like a peeping Tom. There’s something quite erotic about the sight and I’m unable to drag my gaze away from her. She’s so graceful in the way she moves, as if her body is entirely fluid and one with the hoop. The small smile playing about her lips makes me wonder about what makes her tick in other situations: what makes her happy, excited, what turns her on…
I tug down the front of my shirt to hide the growing interest in my trousers. Dammit. I really need to stop thinking about her as a woman and concentrate on the fact she’s my employee and very keen to keep that line drawn between us.
It’s so hard to do that when she’s moving the way she is. With such confidence and abandon.
But I have to, because that’s what we agreed.
‘Hey, Dee. Can I talk to you for a second?’ I call over the music.
She doesn’t look round, just keeps on hula hooping.
I’m pretty sure she would have heard that; it’s not that loud in here.
‘Dee?’ I shout a little louder.
Still no reaction. That’s weird. She’s not ignoring me, is she?
‘Delilah!’ This time, my slightly aggravated shout gets her attention and she jumps and spins round to look in my direction, looking first a little shocked, then wary.
‘Can we have a quick chat?’ I call, in a less aggressive tone this time.
