Page 3

‘ Mierda! ’

Is this even a road? She wound her window down and poked her head out, looked upwards, took in the lush forest that rose so high it seemed to touch the lowering sun, the tops of the trees barely visible.

Above them, grey-black clouds were starting to gather and swirl – the approaching storm that she’d heard murmurings of at the airport.

Without the buffer of the window, she heard a cacophony of squawks and chirps. On her left, almost buried by the lush greenery, she caught sight of a smart wooden sign with The Hideaway painted in a beautiful cursive script, then a second sign underneath: PRIVATE PROPERTY: GUESTS ONLY.

Back in London, she’d felt confident that she could handle the physical aspects of this trip – the weather, the activities. It had been true, mostly, on the health and safety form that Hannah had asked her to fill in, when she’d said she was well enough to travel; to exercise.

But already, the reality of the sweltering Costa Rican climate was a shock.

Within minutes of getting off the artificially cool plane – first, the eleven-hour flight from Heathrow with the smell of challah still clinging to her maxi skirt, then the quick internal hop from San José to Puerto Jiménez – she was uncomfortable.

Barely out of the airport terminal and she was swatting at insects keen to feast on her pale flesh.

Then on the drive here, sweat from her thighs had soaked the ripped leather seat of the four-by-four taxi as it took her high into the hills of the Osa Peninsula, further from the sparkling turquoise sea lined with palm trees and white sand.

A hot dampness itched at her scalp as they wove deeper into the jungle, further from the towns and beach resorts buzzing with ecotourists.

But then the doubts released her again, and her excitement returned, especially now that she was actually, finally, here .

The same buzz of anticipation she’d felt the day she saw Hannah’s video swept through her now.

As soon as Mira had heard about this retreat – the way Hannah had guaranteed that everyone who came here would leave totally transformed – she knew it was the sign she’d been looking for.

She was going, and no one – not even her husband – would stop her.

Mira drew in a breath as the taxi pulled into a clearing – a sudden reprieve from the thick canopy – and slowed as a large, open-sided wooden pavilion with a triangular, thatched roof and polished floorboards came into view a few metres ahead.

Two huge fans dangled from its ceiling, their silent blades stirring the humid air; thick wooden benches piled with fat white cushions lined the structure – and a tall, curvaceous woman in her mid-twenties stood at its centre, dressed in immaculate white trousers and tunic, and holding a platter of exotic fruit.

This wasn’t Hannah. Mira recalled the numerous photos and videos she’d seen of the glowing thirty-something: long, dirty-blonde plaits, bronzed from head to toe, face full of piercings and often sitting in the lotus position.

Quite different from this statuesque brunette, her dark hair pulled back in a high, smooth ponytail, a pair of bronze hoops dangling from her earlobes.

‘ Gracias .’ Mira stepped out of the taxi, waited for the driver to lift her suitcase out of the boot and wheel it towards her.

She took it from him, felt it sag into the soft earth.

The humidity clutched at her throat, so fierce it almost knocked her petite frame to the ground.

She sucked in a breath, steadied herself, and said a quiet prayer of thanks that she was here; that she wasn’t at home, muted by the safety of her comfortable but stifling semi-detached house in Golders Green, the salty sting of brisket in her mouth; her mother-in-law, uninvited, at the kitchen table gossiping about the neighbours.

Mira climbed the three polished steps to the pavilion and was enveloped in a rush of enthusiastic chatter in heavily accented English. The woman smiled at her as she spoke, full lips parting to show neat white teeth in perfect rows.

‘Welcome to Hannah’s Hideaway. I am so happy you are here!

’ she said. ‘I am Luisa – I am the assistant to our main housekeeper, and will be helping to make sure you have everything you need during your stay. You would like some passionfruit?’ She held out the plate towards Mira. ‘Or a glass of iced water, perhaps?’

Mira smiled at her warmth, her enthusiasm.

‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I’m Mira. And yes, I’d love both.

’ She put her luggage down, resisted the overwhelming urge to scratch at her scalp, then reached for the plate of green and yellow fruits.

She took a glass of water from the side table next and glugged half of it down before digging her thumb into a ripe passionfruit.

She devoured its soft, sweet flesh; it was delicious.

‘Mira, yes, we are expecting you. Please, take a seat,’ said Luisa.

She gestured to the bench at the edge of the pavilion; Mira walked over and sat down.

The fingers of her right hand began tapping on the wood at her side, knocking out some long-forgotten melody; her pianist’s fingers now slower, but still practised.

She could play almost anything she’d heard just once: it was her party trick, her one special gift.

She surveyed the empty space. Where are the other guests – and our host? ‘Am I the first to arrive?’ she said. ‘And what about Hannah – I thought she’d be here to greet everyone?’

Something passed across Luisa’s expression, a brief darkening of her striking features – but it was fleeting. Her beaming smile returned.

‘Ah, yes,’ said Luisa. ‘You are here first, but the others will arrive soon. And Hannah will be here any minute – Paola will be here in a moment too. When she arrives, I will ask her, she will know everything...’

Paola, Paola... Mira recognized the name; Hannah had mentioned her in the welcome email, perhaps. She must be Luisa’s boss – the housekeeper. She opened her mouth to check, but Luisa interrupted her before she could speak.

‘Look, someone else comes now!’ she said, pointing, that gleaming smile lighting up her face again.

Another four-by-four taxi was lurching its way down the track, its brakes squealing softly as it came to a halt by the pavilion.

A buzz of excitement grew in Mira’s stomach, spread upwards to her chest. Perhaps Hannah is in there? Am I really about to meet her?

Or it could be one of the other guests. In her emails, Hannah had said she’d tried to arrange for them all to come in the same taxi from the airport, but it turned out they were all arriving at different times, so she’d asked them to make their own way to the retreat today.

Mira got to her feet, walked back towards the steps and shaded her eyes from the lowering sun as she watched two men climb out.

The first was a thirty-ish, muscular, handsome blond in smooth linen trousers; the word jock sprang to mind, quite unexpectedly – though it did seem to suit.

The other man was one of the tallest people she’d ever seen.

He looked about her age – early forties – attractive, greying, with a warm, kind-looking face, and wearing a baseball cap, T-shirt and shorts that looked slightly too small.

Watching him almost bump his head on the taxi door as he got out, she felt a rush of affection for him.

‘G’day,’ said the tall man, lumbering up the steps, ducking to avoid hitting his head again on the pavilion roof. ‘Name’s Scott. Good to meet you.’ For someone so large, his voice was surprisingly gentle. Mira warmed to him a little more.

‘And I’m Ben,’ said the blond man in a thick southern drawl, staring at Mira. She caught him eyeing her hair with obvious curiosity before he seemed to realize his rudeness and abruptly averted his gaze. She smiled, shook his outstretched hand. ‘Good to meet you.’

‘So, are you Australian?’ said Mira, turning to Scott, after Luisa had rushed towards the men, handing over slices of fruit and tumblers of water.

Scott nodded. ‘Yeah, I’m born and bred in Melbourne,’ he said. ‘We’re heading into winter over there soon, so this temperature’s a bit of a shock. How about you? Or maybe I can take a guess from the accent – are you British?’

‘Yes – I’m from London. And my name’s Mira, by the way.’ She paused to take him in, realized she was craning her neck just to look up at his face and, embarrassingly, standing on tiptoes – she’d not even realized she was doing it. She lowered her feet, but not before Scott noticed.

‘It’s OK – I get that a lot,’ he said, smiling, bending down towards her a little. ‘One of the hazards of being six foot six, I guess.’

‘Are you really? Wow. Well, I’m five foot nothing, so we can be this retreat’s little and large,’ said Mira. Both men laughed; she knew it hadn’t been that funny, but she appreciated the kindness. ‘Did you two travel here together?’ she said.

‘Only from the top of the track there,’ said Ben, pointing behind him. ‘It was a stroke of luck – Scott was just coming down the pathway when we turned in.’

‘I hiked most of the way here from Playa Blanca,’ said Scott.

‘I wanted to see as much of the area as I could before we start the retreat. I’m so happy to finally be here, though – I can’t wait to see the place, and to meet Hannah, of course.

’ He was practically vibrating with excitement: bobbing up and down on the balls of his feet, eyes darting around, as he said: ‘She’s changed my life. ’

‘Yeah, Hannah’s the best,’ said Ben, nodding rapidly. ‘I literally cannot wait to see her either.’ He looked around the pavilion. ‘Where is she, anyway? I thought she’d be here to meet us.’

‘Hannah will be here any moment,’ said Luisa. ‘She is so excited to meet you too.’