Page 5

His eyes had just started to adjust to the gloom when there was a thinning in the canopy above them.

With the relative shelter of branches and leaves removed from above their heads, the black, rumbling clouds came into stark view, and the rain slapped his hood with the force of a shower on full blast.

Then – its slate walls and floor-to-ceiling glass so out of place in the middle of this lush forest – there was Hannah’s Costa Rican home.

Still, everyone was allowed a slip-up – even Hannah. And he could already tell this trip was going to be more than worth the inconvenience of her late arrival.

Paola and Luisa ushered the group along the neat stone path to shelter under the porch outside the house’s doorway.

‘Welcome to Hannah’s casa , where you will stay for your retreat at The Hideaway – the most beautiful house in the whole of Osa!’ said Paola, beaming as she looked around the group, then flinching as another clap of thunder struck. Raising her voice, she said, ‘Please, come inside, now!’

As Paola turned to the door and pressed a code into the keypad to the side, an unfamiliar voice reached their ears, loud enough to pierce the battering rain.

‘Hey, attendez – wait for me!’ Scott turned to see a brown-skinned woman, with loose tendrils of corkscrew curls escaping from the hood of her anorak, dragging a sodden suitcase along the path towards them.

She was panting and flustered, water running in rivets off her lightweight black jacket. Whoever this is, she’s gorgeous.

‘I’m Naya – I’m here for the retreat.’ Her accent was French; her voice was breathless. ‘With – with Hannah? Is this not – am I in the wrong place?’ She started rifling through her bag, then stretched her arm out, phone held towards Paola’s face, wiping streams of water from its screen.

Paola glanced at the phone, frowned. ‘Naya, yes, of course – it’s OK, thank you. My name is Paola, I look after the house, and all of you until Hannah arrives.’

‘Oh, thank goodness! But... arrives?’ said Naya. ‘Is Hannah not here?’

Paola gave a quick shake of her head, glanced again around the group, then, muttering in Spanish, opened the door and began to usher everyone inside. Scott hung back, waited for the others to head in before him; he noticed Naya was lingering at the door too, looking baffled.

He leaned towards her, ready to explain that Hannah had just been delayed, that she’d arrive any minute, but before he could speak, Paola walked over to him and placed a hand near his elbow.

‘I need to speak with you – straight away.’ Her voice was stern, and he saw she had a clipboard, giving him the unwelcome impression of a schoolteacher taking the register.

Have I done something wrong? Had he ballsed up, somehow, without even realizing it?

He felt a flush of anticipatory embarrassment. How am I doing this already? Assuming I’ve screwed up before the thing has even bloody started?

Keep it together, Scott. Hadn’t Hannah talked about exactly this ‘false belief’, the crap he kept getting stuck on like a broken record – that his past would always dictate his future?

That just because he’d always felt like he messed things up, that meant he always would?

Hannah said that wasn’t true – people could change; they could be different, with a bit of help.

That’s why he was here, wasn’t it? He’d get to work one-on-one with Hannah, in this amazing place, and he’d go home a new man.

He looked at Paola. ‘Of course.’

She eyed him. ‘Can you please tell me your full name?’

‘I’m Scott – Scott Harris.’

Paola gave him a curt nod. ‘Can I see your passport, please?’

‘Sure, just let me get it out,’ he said, setting down his rucksack, unzipping the pocket at the front where his passport was neatly tucked into its special case.

‘Here you go.’ He opened it to the page of his unsmiling photo – a picture he’d had taken two years ago, right when things with Justine were at their worst, which looked disconcertingly like a prison mugshot.

‘OK, now I will speak to the other man,’ she said, turning away from Scott and towards the others, who were still gathered near the doorway, chatting and taking off their wet jackets and shoes. ‘Please, everyone, go and take a look around,’ she said. Then, addressing Ben: ‘I need to talk to you.’

Leaving Ben and Paola to their conversation, Scott followed Luisa further into the building; as she moved, a sequence of lights sprang to life, illuminating the vast room.

A gleaming white and silver kitchen with breakfast bar and stools was tucked to the left; in the centre was a sweeping wooden dining table, complete with six purple velvet-covered chairs.

To the right was the living area with a curved, cream sofa made of impossibly soft, silky-looking fabric, burnt orange cushions scattered across it, and a thick oak coffee table in front.

Carved wooden ornaments sat on the surfaces; bright works of abstract art lined the walls; tall vases stuffed with vibrant red, orange and yellow hibiscus adorned each table.

Through the sliding glass doors at the front of the house, he could make out the glassy surface of the pool.

‘Welcome to the casa ,’ said Luisa, beaming. ‘We will make everything perfect for you!’

Scott closed his eyes briefly, pictured his front room with its dated lino flooring and battered leather sofa. Every surface cluttered with paperwork and books and tools and all the things he had nowhere to bloody put.

I couldn’t feel further away from my life if I tried – and it’s great.

Raised voices tugged him from his thoughts.

He glanced behind him, where Ben and Paola were deep in conversation – but this didn’t look like small talk, or clearing up some admin.

Paola’s brows were knitted together, her eyes narrowed.

Ben’s arms were folded across his body, and he was shaking his head – his whole posture looked defensive.

Scott thought he heard Ben say, ‘It’s not my fault if she didn’t give you the right information,’ before Paola shushed him, and they continued in raised whispers.

He could no longer make out what they were saying.

Scott turned back to the group, noticed Carly also looking in Ben and Paola’s direction. He caught her eye. She’d heard it too.

‘The casa uses only drip technology to water the beautiful gardens outside.’ Luisa’s voice floated towards him. ‘And as you can see, our pool is truly one of a kind – under the surface of the pool there are loungers to lie on, and it even plays relaxing music underwater when you swim!’ she said.

Music – under the water? Now that, he needed to check out.

‘And here is the Wi-Fi, in case any of you need it. The code is written here, but a big storm like this might stop it from working so well. Shall we go upstairs? You will see when we show you your bedrooms, each room has its own special and unique design, inspired by the rainforest – bamboo ceilings, teakwood panels and giant beds. You will even find hammocks and your own cedar hot tubs outside on your personal balconies, where the views of the rainforest will take your air away!’

Scott smiled at Luisa’s mistake, and at her excitement – she was right to be this enthusiastic. This place, everything about it, was exceptional.

‘And dinner will be served once you’re all unpacked. We use only the freshest, finest local ingredients to make your meals,’ said Paola, walking towards the group with Ben trailing behind her, a terse smile on her lips. ‘Come, now,’ she said. ‘We will show you to your rooms.’

An hour later, unpacked and refreshed by a dip in his hot tub followed by a long stint in the high-pressure rain shower, Scott was shovelling forkfuls of gallo pinto into his mouth, his taste-buds exploding with spicy sweetness.

He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until Paola had filled his plate with rice, beans and picadillo, the aromas making his mouth water.

‘So, what made you all want to come here, on the retreat?’ said Carly. ‘Have you been fans of Hannah for a while? How long have you been following her online?’

Well, this is an easy one.

‘I’ve been following her for years – I’ve probably watched all her videos,’ said Scott, laughing.

‘My mates think I’ve lost the plot, but she really helped me – I’ve not always felt like I fit in, and Hannah gave me a community.

She made me feel... understood.’ When for so much of my life, I’ve felt like a mystery to everyone – including myself .

‘I couldn’t believe it when she announced the competition – the chance to come and actually meet her,’ he went on.

‘I fully poured my heart out in that video.’

He stopped himself from saying the rest: that he’d told Hannah all the things he didn’t want anyone else to know in that video: the cruel voice that lived inside his head, the judgements it made about everything he said and did.

He told her about the way he went through life always looking as though he was fitting in – saying the right things, doing what other people thought he should, with his mates, in his job as a park ranger – but that underneath, he was exhausted from the effort.

It was as though he was wearing a bodysuit made of malleable plastic that he could only take off when he was at home, alone, with his apartment door closed.

He’d said all that, and then he’d sent the damn video, tried to forget about it and let it go. ‘I thought it was a total long shot,’ he said. ‘So, when I got the email telling me I’d won a place – well, I almost keeled over in shock. Now here I am.’

Here I am. There was a silence around the table. He’d been talking for too long, hadn’t he? He felt himself flush. He’d already made a fool of himself, no doubt. Said far too much. Bloody hell, Scott. All mouth, no brain.