Page 27 of Happily Never After
‘We share the ants,’ he agrees. ‘Don’t worry, we haven’t hoovered them up. It would be pretty pointless as they’d just march straight back out again. She’s just making sure there aren’t any crumbs to tempt them and then we’ll spray peppermint oil around the room. Ants hate peppermint oil.’
‘And are all your retreats for writers?’ I ask.
‘Goodness, no. We do all sorts of different ones. Writers are generally the easiest because they just need somewhere to work and meet together. Cara does cookery courses sometimes, and they’re very popular, but we usually need a week off afterwards to get over them as they’re pretty intense. We also do wellness retreats, art retreats and so on.’
‘And you run all these yourselves?’
He laughs. ‘No. We don’t have the first idea about writing, art or any of that stuff. We just provide the venue and an expert. Thinking of which, I’ll introduce you to Tess later. She’s the mentor for this retreat.’
‘I wasn’t planning on using a mentor,’ I tell him.
‘That’s fine, but she’s there if you want her. She’s lovely, actually. She’s a freelance editor now, but she’s worked for quite a few of the big publishing companies and knows the industry like the back of her hand.’
Our conversation is interrupted by the arrival of a slender, dark-haired woman wearing a white T-shirt and dungaree shorts.
‘Ants banished,’ she says to Hugh, evidently not having noticed me. ‘I’ve also reminded bloody Gina about not taking food to her room. Honestly, you’d think she’d know, the number of times she’s been here.’
‘This is Laura,’ Hugh tells her, obviously trying to cut her off, although I’m rather enjoying the rant. ‘Laura, this is my wife, Cara.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ she says with a blush as she turns to me. ‘I didn’t know you’d arrived already. How was your journey?’
It quickly becomes apparent that, minor indiscretion aside, Cara is absolutely lovely. Her eyes sparkle with pride as she shows me round the rest of the house, which is just as beautiful as my room.
‘What we’ve tried to achieve here is to give you all the mod cons, but in a traditional setting,’ she tells me as she leads me out onto a terrace where three women appear to be in the middle of enjoying afternoon tea. ‘Ladies, this is Laura, who’s just arrived. I’m sure you’ll make her welcome. Gina, Suzie and Grace are regulars of ours,’ she explains to me before turning back to them. ‘How many years have you been coming now?’
‘This is our third year,’ the oldest one says with a sniff. ‘We come twice a year, so it’s actually our sixth visit though. Laura, is it?’
‘That’s right.’
‘And are you a writer, Laura?’ There’s something in her tone that I can’t quite pin down, but it’s definitely not friendly.
‘I am, yes.’
‘And what do you write?’ All three ladies are staring at me now, and I feel a little bit like I’m being interviewed.
‘Crime fiction,’ I tell them. This is obviously the wrong answer, as I swear I see the chief interrogator’s lip curl a little.
‘I see,’ she says after a pregnant pause. ‘I’m afraid I don’t get the attraction of that type of thing. It seems’ – she pauses dramatically as if searching for the right word – ‘a littlesordid, if you don’t mind me saying.’
‘Gina’s just signed a deal with apublisher,’ one of the other women explains in a tone that implies that such an honour confers instant deity.
‘Oh, congratulations,’ I say to her. ‘What’s the book?’
‘It’s a Tudor saga,’ the other woman says once more. ‘Sucha tall order to bring that world to life but, if anyone can do it justice, it’s you, Gina.’
‘Thank you, Suzie, but I don’t think a writer of Laura’s calibre would appreciate my oeuvre,’ Gina says haughtily. I may only have met her a few minutes ago, but I’ve already decided that I really don’t like her. She’s literally epitomising everything I said I didn’t like about the idea of writing retreats, and I’m not at all sure about her two sycophants either. Thankfully, before the conversation can get any more stilted, we’re joined by two other women.
‘Tea and pastries!’ the shorter one exclaims excitedly, advancing on the table where everything has been laid out. ‘Would you like something, Tess?’
‘Just a cup of tea, thank you, Lynette. One thing I’ve learned from running retreats at Hugh and Cara’s is to pace myself. The first time I came, I swear I went home a stone heavier.’
‘Fair enough,’ Lynette replies. ‘What about you ladies, can I offer you a top up while I’m at the table?’
‘No,thank you,’ Gina huffs. From the look on her face, you’d think Lynette had just offered to stab her in the eye, and my curiosity is piqued. I may not like Gina, but I can see that’s nothing compared to the hatred that Gina feels for Lynette. Before I get an opportunity to probe any further, however, Tess approaches me.
‘I don’t believe we’ve met,’ she says. ‘I’m Tess, the retreat coordinator.’
‘Laura,’ I tell her, shaking her proffered hand.
