Page 31

Theo

I stared at the document he’d attached, wondering how it would feel to read his words again after so long. I picked up my laptop, opened my French doors and stepped out onto the balcony. I thought about all the writers the French Riviera had inspired over the years. Perhaps I would be able to embody the words of F. Scott Fitzgerald or SomersetMaugham. I could write about the glittering sea, the lush green mountains dotted with houses and pools; the palm trees along La Croisette. And then I sat down and opened up Theo’s pages and began to read. His notes were much more structured than mine, written like a synopsis and about three times as long. I raced through it as his ideas for plots and twists and conflict unfolded in front of my eyes. He had something already, after only a day, and annoyingly I loved it.

Chapter Ten

The next morning my alarm went off at seven, which having had a relatively early night after an evening group therapy session followed by a couple of drinks at the bar, was just about bearable. I’d kept my distance from Theo as much as was humanly possible and had enjoyed getting to know the others better – Claire, especially, who I was starting to feel close to already.

I prised myself out of bed and put on some leggings and a T-shirt, determined to hit the tiny gym I’d passed several times but had not yet found the energy to venture into. I may as well take advantage of having it right there, metres from my room, meaning it was impossible to talk myself out of doing a workout by persuading myself that I didn’t have the time. Plus, wasn’t exercise supposed to be good for focus? And now, more than ever, I needed to be able to do that. Theo had set the bar very high, which made sense, because I’d hardly want to write a novel with someone who wasn’t brilliant, but he was just so ‘on it’ when it came to plot and no matter how hard I tried, my storylines seemed to fall ever-so-slightly short.

It was empty in the gym, so I put my headphones on and did some lunges and squats to warm up, gearing myself up for the treadmill, a piece of equipment I despised and yet never felt as though I’d really pushed myself without. It was a necessary evil, although I wasn’t sure what good tenminutes of huffing and puffing across a perfectly flat fake terrain actually did anyone. And so when somebody tapped me on the shoulder I felt a rush of horror followed swiftly by relief – horror that it would be Theo, in which case working out in front of him would be impossible and I’d have to pretend I was warming down, not warming up – and relief when I realised it was Claire, who looked as unenthused about the prospect of an hour in the gym as I was.

‘Morning,’ she said, looking suspiciously at the rowing machine.

‘Hey,’ I said. ‘We had the same idea.’

‘What, you mean forcing ourselves to do a modicum of exercise so that we don’t feel guilty about the copious amounts of French wine we plan to drink later?’

‘You took the words right out of my mouth,’ I said, eyeing the treadmill. ‘Right. I’m going in.’

‘You’re brave,’ she said. ‘I think I’ll start with a gentle cycle.’

We pounded/cycled along in companionable silence for a few minutes before Claire, who was already out of breath, stopped, slid off her saddle and came over to me, draping herself over the arm of my treadmill.

‘That’s quite enough for one day,’ she said.

‘You’re literally making me look good here,’ I said, ‘and that’s saying something.’

‘Talking about not looking good, what the fuck was that yoga class about yesterday?’ said Claire. ‘Rob can barely move this morning. Hardly conducive to sexy romance that, is it?’

I laughed. ‘Well how do you think I felt? Theo and I aren’t even a couple and next minute he’s got his coccyx rammed against mine.’

Claire snorted. ‘ I thought it might get you two all worked up. You know, get the inevitable over with.’

I felt myself flush, which I hoped Claire would put down to the running.

‘What inevitable?’ I asked.

‘I just thought maybe you two found it more of a turn-on than we did,’ said Claire.

‘Absolutely not,’ I said emphatically.

I was pretty certain I could speak for Theo on this one – I didn’t imagine seeing me swaying about in a poor-man’s downward dog wearing thinning Primark leggings was in any way arousing for him.

‘Plus, let’s be serious,’ said Claire conspiratorially, ‘there’s no way you can have a strictly platonic writing partnership with a guy who looks like that.’

I spluttered an answer: ‘Looks aren’t everything!’

Claire waved my protestations away, as though I was being ridiculous even trying to pretend that I didn’t want to get naked with him. It would have been much easier, I sometimes thought, if I’d chosen to write a debut novel with somebody else from my writing course. Anybody else. But then, Theo had been the best writer by a mile, so swings and roundabouts.

‘I wish couples yoga had got Rob all fired up,’ lamented Claire. ‘I’m prepared to try anything at this point.’

I looked at her, instantly regretting turning my head while running and having to grab hold of the arm rest to stop myself from stacking it off the back of the machine.

‘Is everything OK with you two? I mean, I’m guessing that you’re on this retreat for a reason. What made you sign up?’ I asked.

Claire rested her chin in the palm of her hand looking fed up.

‘It feels like our last chance, to be honest.’