them to let Cook know that my lady could do with a larger portion of quinoa, and perhaps a medium-rare sirloin.
The sound of strangers chewing and clinking and scraping their cutlery just about did Frances’s head in. Hadn’t she once read there was an actual disorder where people suffered real psychological distress at the sound of others eating? There was a name for it. Frances probably had that disorder and had never been diagnosed because you were meant to talk while you dined. Something else to remember to Google once she got her phone back.
Eventually they were done, and they all pushed back their chairs and returned to their rooms. You couldn’t even say, “Goodnight! Sleep well!”
Now, as Frances drank the last of her evening smoothie, she thought about the number of silent insufficient meals ahead of her and considered leaving in the morning.
“No one leaves early, Frances,” Yao had said today. Well, Frances could be the first. Set a new precedent.
She thought of her massage therapist’s whispered warning just before the silence began: Don’t do anything you’re not comfortable with. What did she mean by that? Frances would certainly not do anything she didn’t feel comfortable with.
She recalled what Ellen had said when she suggested this place. “Their approach is really quite unconventional.” Ellen was her friend. She wouldn’t send her somewhere dangerous … would she? Just to lose three kilos? You’d want to lose a lot more than three kilos if they were doing something dangerous. What could it be? Walking across burning coals for enlightenment? Frances would absolutely not do that. She didn’t even like walking across hot sand at the beach.
Ellen would have told her if there was walking across hot coals. Ellen was a dear friend.
“I’ve never trusted that Ellen,” Gillian once said, darkly and knowledgeably, but Gillian was always making dark, knowledgeable comments about people, as if everyone had secret Mafia connections that only Gillian knew about.
Frances missed her greatly.
A wave of exhaustion hit her, not surprising after that long drive. She switched off her bedside lamp, and fell instantly sound asleep, flat on her back like a sunbather.
* * *
A light shone in her face.
Frances woke with a gasp.
15
Lars
“What the actual fuck?”
Lars sat up, his heart hammering. A figure stood at the end of his bed shining a small flashlight in his face like a nurse doing hospital rounds.
He switched on his bedside lamp.
His “wellness consultant,” the delectable Delilah, stood next to his bed holding up the Tranquillum House dressing gown with one hand. She didn’t speak. She lifted one finger and beckoned, as if he would just obediently and silently follow her instructions.
“I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart,” he said. “It’s the middle of the night and I like my sleep.”
Delilah said, “It’s the starlight meditation. It’s always on the first night. You don’t want to miss it.”
Lars lay back in bed and shielded his eyes. “I do want to miss it.”
“You’ll like it. It’s really beautiful.”
Lars removed his hand from his eyes. “Did you even knock before you came in to my room without permission?”
“Naturally I knocked,” said Delilah. She held up the dressing gown again. “Please? I’ll lose my job if you don’t come down for it.”
“You will not.”
“I might. Masha wants all the guests there for it. It only takes half an hour.”
Lars sighed. He could refuse on principle, but it was such a first-world, privileged principle he couldn’t be bothered. He was awake now anyway.
He sat up and held out his hand for his dressing gown. He slept naked. He could have just leaped from the bed in all his glory to make the point that this was what happened when you woke your sleeping guests in the middle of the night, but he was too well mannered. Delilah averted her eyes as he threw back the sheet, although he didn’t miss the quick downward flick. She was only human.
“Don’t forget the silence,” she said as she stepped into the corridor.
“How could I forget the beautiful noble silence?” said Lars.
She put her finger to her lips.
* * *
It was a clear night, the stars were out in force, and a perfect half-moon illuminated the garden with silvery light. The balmy air was a soft caress against his skin after the hot day. It was, he had to admit, all very pleasant.
Nine yoga mats had been placed in a circle and guests wearing the Tranquillum House dressing gowns lay with their heads facing the center of the circle, where their