athletic, outdoorsy girl. Showy Zoe? But she wasn’t showy at all. Not-showy Zoe. Zoe certainly didn’t look like she was in need of a health resort. How much more rejuvenated could you get?
Frances thought about the young couple, Ben and Jessica, who also seemed in sparkling good health. Were health resorts only attended by the already healthy? Was she going to be the least healthy-looking person here? She’d never been bottom of the class, except for that one time in Transcendental Meditation for Beginners.
“We thought we’d explore the hot springs, maybe have a quick soak,” said Napoleon to Yao and Frances, as if they’d asked. “Then we’ll do a few laps of the pool.”
Clearly, they were one of those active families who threw their bags down on the floor and left their hotel room the moment they checked in.
“I’m planning a quick nap before an urgent massage,” said Frances.
“Excellent idea!” cried Napoleon. “A nap and a massage! Sounds perfect! Isn’t this place amazing? And I hear the hot springs are incredible.” He was an extremely enthusiastic man.
“Make sure you rehydrate after the hot springs,” Yao said to him. “There are water bottles at reception.”
“Will do, Yao! And then we’ll be back in time for the noble silence!”
“Noble silence?” said Frances.
“It will all become clear, Frances,” said Yao.
“It’s in your information pack, Frances!” said Napoleon. “Bit of a surprise; I wasn’t expecting the ‘silence’ aspect. I’ve heard of silent retreats, of course, but must admit they didn’t appeal—I’m a talker myself, as my girls here will tell you. But we’ll roll with the punches, go with the flow!”
As he talked on in the comforting way of the chronically loquacious, Frances watched his wife and daughter farther down the stairs. The daughter, who wore black flip-flops, put one heel on the step above her and leaned forward as if she were discreetly stretching her hamstring. The mother watched her daughter, and Frances saw the ghost of a smile, followed almost immediately by an expression of pure despair that dragged all her features down, as if she were clawing at her cheeks. Then in the next instant it was gone and she smiled benignly up at Frances, and Frances felt as though she had seen something she shouldn’t have.
Napoleon said, “It wasn’t you who arrived in that Lamborghini, was it, Frances? I saw it from our room. That’s one hell of a car.”
“Not me—I’m the Peugeot,” said Frances.
“Nothing wrong with the Peugeot! Although I hear those jackals charge like wounded bulls when it comes to servicing, right?”
He mixed his metaphors most delightfully. Frances was keen to talk more with him. He was someone who would answer any question with candor and vigor. She loved those sorts of people.
“Dad,” said his daughter. Not-showy Zoe. “Let the lady pass. She’s only just got here. She probably wants to get to her room.”
“Sorry, sorry, I’ll see you at dinner! Although we won’t be chatting then, will we?” He tapped the side of his nose and grinned, but there was a trapped, panicky look in his eyes. “Lovely to meet you!” He clapped Yao on the shoulder. “See you later, Yao, mate!”
Frances followed Yao up the stairs. At the top, he turned right and led her down a carpeted hallway lined with historical photos that she planned to study later.
“This wing of the house was added in 1895,” said Yao. “You’ll find all the rooms have original fireplaces with marble mantelpieces of Georgian design. Not that you’ll be lighting any fires in this heat.”
“I didn’t expect to see families doing this retreat,” commented Frances. “I must admit I thought there’d be more … people like me.”
Fatter people than me, Yao. Much fatter.
“We get people from all walks of life here at Tranquillum House,” said Yao as he unlocked her room with a large old-fashioned metal key.
“Probably not all walks of life,” mused Frances, because come on now, the place wasn’t cheap, but she stopped talking as Yao held open the door for her.
“Here we are.”
It was a large, airy, plush-carpeted room filled with period furniture, including an enormous four-poster bed. Open French doors led to a balcony with a view that stretched to the horizon: a rolling patchwork quilt of vineyards and farmhouses and green-and-gold countryside. Flocks of birds wheeled across the sky. Her bag sat like an old familiar friend in a corner of the room. There was a fruit basket on the coffee table, along with a glass of green sludgelike smoothie with a strawberry