This Way to Paradise (8 page)

Maybe it won't be so bad here after all,
I thought as I texted Erin.

Wether is hRe, wish U wRe luvly. Muahahaha. IJX

After about half an hour, we came to a sign on the road that said
Cloud Nine
and an arrow pointing to a lane leading up into the hills. There, Aunt Sarah swung the jeep to the right and we drove through rows of villas behind whitewashed walls. I tried to see in but the walls were too high for a good nosey. We passed a restaurant up on a corner of the slope and, between the terrace and some trees, I could see the amazing view they had out over the coastline.
Cool place for a romantic meal,
I thought as my imagination blasted an image into my mind of Joe and me eating up there, gazing out, holding hands.
Shut up, shut up, shut up mind,
I told myself as we went on past a couple of shops with stands outside selling fruit, flips-flops, snorkels, flippers, beachwear and postcards.
Good place for supplies,
I noted. The road suddenly came to an end, and we drove through an open wooden gate into a pebbly car park and up to a white bungalow that opened out at the front to a veranda with a high-beamed ceiling.
Must be the reception area,
I thought as I spotted a long wooden desk inside.

‘We're here,' said Aunt Sarah and she pulled up outside the steps leading up to the veranda.

‘Velcome to ze prison camp,' grumbled Kate, getting out of the car and stretching.

I took a look around and could see beyond the reception that there were a number of white bungalows with blue shutters dotted on the hill below.

As we unloaded our cases from the boot, a very suntanned lady in a turquoise sarong and T-shirt came out with glasses of cold juice for us.

‘Pomegranate,' she said, handing them to us. ‘Welcome. Kate, good to see you again.'

‘Mf,' Kate replied. ‘Not my idea, I can tell you.'

‘And this is my niece, India Jane,' said Aunt Sarah.

‘Welcome to Cloud Nine, India Jane,' she said.‘I'm Charlotte Donahue. Call me Lottie, most people do.'

Donahue? Wow. She must be Joe's mum,
I thought as she ushered us up the steps. She wasn't what I imagined at all. She was stick thin with a mass of frizzy, greying curly hair and twinkly blue eyes. Since Kate had told me that Joe had a reputation as a bad boy, I don't know why but somehow I'd imagined his mum to be strict and straight-looking, like an accountant who works in the city or something, someone to rebel against, anyway, but Lottie looked like she could be fun.

Behind a desk in the reception area was a beautiful smiling Indian girl with a silver stud through her right eyebrow and a ring through her bottom lip.

‘Girls, this is Anisha,' said Lottie as the girl nodded at us.

She then looked back in the direction of the car. ‘No Joe?' she asked.

‘Went into town,' Aunt Sarah replied.

Lottie made a resigned face, then picked up a large envelope from the reception desk and handed it to me.‘Here, India Jane.
Take one of these. It's the welcome package that we give to all of our guests. It tells you what's happening when and where and a map of the centre. If you like, I'll show you round then take you to your room. You'll be sharing with Kate.'

‘Oh Mu-um,' groaned Kate. ‘Can't I at
least
have my own room?'

Aunt Sarah shook her head. ‘All the singles were booked out ages ago, sweetheart. You know how popular they are. Anyhow, you'll be fine in with India Jane.'

Kate narrowed her eyes and tightened her mouth.
Any minute now, smoke's going to come out of her ears,
I thought. I felt hurt by her reaction to sharing with me.

Aunt Sarah gave her friend a weary look, then turned back to Kate. ‘OK Kate, that's enough of the attitude. In fact, I think that you and I need to have that small word
now,'
she said and indicated that Kate should follow her. ‘Lottie, can I hand India Jane over to you?'

Lottie nodded.‘Course you can. We'll take good care of her.'

Kate rolled her eyes at me, but did as she was told and stomped after her mother into a room that looked like an office to the left of the reception.

‘Just you and me then,' said Lottie as her phone rang. ‘Excuse me a mo.'

She took her call, then came back to me. ‘Sorry, bit of an emergency in the kitchen. I'll have to show you around later. There's always something happening somewhere! Er . . .' She
called to the girl behind the desk.‘Anisha, could you show India Jane her room? She's in Cloud Fifteen.'

‘Hey, India Jane. Cool name. Welcome,' said Anisha, stepping out from behind the reception. ‘Follow me.'

I picked up my bag and let her lead the way. She was barefoot, dressed in loose white trousers and a sleeveless T-shirt and her hair was pulled back into a simple ponytail, but there was something about her that was effortlessly stylish and elegant. I felt overdressed next to her in my red sneakers, pink T-shirt, red shirt and purple nail polish.

The compound was busy as we walked along the path that led to the sleeping quarters. We passed several huts where I could see various groups doing different classes: some doing t'ai chi on a grass verge, others painting, others dancing.

‘How many people are there?' I asked.

‘About sixty,' Anisha replied. ‘There are twenty bungalows for accommodation, some for four sharing, some for two and a couple have single rooms in them.'

It didn't feel like there were so many rooms as we made our way along. The design of the place meant that the huts where people slept were away from the rest of the complex and were spaced at intervals down the slope, each with its own bougainvillea-covered veranda looking out over the coast and between them were the pine trees providing shade.
No wonder people come here,
I thought as I spotted a middle-aged man dozing in a hammock strung between two trunks.
It has a really peaceful vibe.

‘Early morning and late afternoon is activity time,' said Anisha, leading me past an open area between huts where a small group were practising yoga. ‘If you look in your brochure, it tells you what's on when. Have you any idea what you'd like to do?'

‘Not really. Maybe some art classes.'

‘There are loads of those,' said Anisha. ‘Morning and afternoon.'

When we reached a bungalow at the bottom of the slope, Anisha unlocked the blue door and let me in.

‘I have to go back now,' she said with a smile. ‘Let me know if you need anything.'

I put my bag down and looked around. It was a light, airy room with white walls, a high open-beamed roof and a parquet floor. It smelled clean, of polish, herbs and lemons. At one end were two single beds with sky blue covers and next to them were two bedside cabinets. To the left was a pine wardrobe, a shelf with a couple of paperbacks on it and a mirror above it. On the right was a wicker sofa with a bamboo and glass coffee table in front and on that a vase with a sprig of green in it. I picked up the vase and sniffed. Rosemary. I knew the scent from Mum's bath gel concoctions.
Nice but a bit impersonal,
I thought as I opened a door to the back which led to a small bathroom with a loo, shower and sink.
But then it is a sort of hotel, I can't expect it to look like Aunt Sarah's home back in London.

Next, I checked out the front of the bungalow where there
was a narrow veranda with two wicker chairs on it. I sat down and looked out at the view. It was lovely. Sea and sky as far as the eye could see and it looked as if there was a bay behind some trees at the bottom of the slope.

Up until that moment, I hadn't given any thought to what it was going to be like once we got to the centre. I had been too busy objecting and then travelling, getting here. Suddenly, it felt anticlimactic. Like everything had been in motion and had suddenly stopped. The place was
so
quiet, peaceful, but I felt odd – like if I was still moving amidst the stillness. I was restless. Twitchy. I wished there was a TV or something I could flick on – some sound to fill the silence. A computer I could e-mail on. Some way I could have contact with the outside world. What was I supposed to do with myself now that I had arrived? Go and join in with the people back on the grass straining to get their legs up behind their necks.
Not today,
I thought. Although I can do it. Mum and Dad have practised yoga since forever and so Dylan and I did too. The ‘Salute to the sun' was part of our daily ritual and, until I got to Ireland, I thought everyone sat in the lotus position when they sat on the floor. The way I could get myself into the strangest positions was one of the things that used to make Erin laugh.

I went inside and pulled my phone out of my bag to try and text Erin. No joy. The battery needed charging. Stupid me, I meant to do it before we'd left.
So. What to do?
I asked myself. I decided to put my phone on recharge, then began to put away the things I had brought for the trip.

Just as I'd finished, Kate burst in.
Phew,
I thought as she dumped her bag on the end of one of the beds.
Company.
She may not have liked the idea of sharing a room, but I was secretly pleased that I wasn't going to be alone.
Maybe she's got some idea of what we can do,
I thought as I lolled on my bed and watched her empty the contents of her suitcase on to hers, change her T-shirt, comb her hair back and don her shades.

Then she got up.

‘See yus later,' she said and she picked up her straw bag and headed for the door.

‘Later? Why? Where are you going? Can I come?' I asked. ‘And are you going to leave all your stuff on the bed?'

Kate's expression registered irritation. ‘India. We might be cousins. We might have to share a room, but we're not joined at the hip. OK?'

I felt as if someone had poured cold water over me and Kate must have seen my face fall because she let out a slow breath.

‘Look,' she said with a sigh. ‘I just need some space for a while. OK? Like, this is not my ideal summer and I need to readjust my head. Maybe you can come next time, OK?'

And then her phone went. She didn't even wait for my reaction. She was on her mobile and out the door.

Not my ideal summer either,
I thought after she'd gone.
Not that anyone has asked what is.
I flicked through the two novels on the shelf, then put them back. One was a murder story and the other was a caring sharing self-help book. I wasn't in the mood
for caring sharing, nor was I in the mood for reading.

I decided to go and have a wander around the site, so I donned my shades and set off back up towards the reception area where most of the classes seemed to be based.

There were the classes that I'd seen earlier, but all sorts of other stuff was going on too. There was a hut where a couple of people were learning massage, another where they seemed to be learning how to make jewellery, another where a group of five were singing or doing some sort of voice work (actually they sounded like they were being strangled). I passed a drumming class, a fencing group, a writing group and another hut where I think people were doing some kind of healing or therapy as a few people were crying on mats and others hugging them. In an adjacent hut, a couple of people were doing mad hippie dancing to some kind of droning groaning sound.
Not for me,
I thought as I moved quickly on. I passed a kitchen area which was busy with a group of people chopping and cutting vegetables. One of them waved but I darted out of her eye line in case I got roped in. Not that I minded helping out in the kitchen but didn't want to just yet. There were a couple of open huts on a terrace area where it looked like people could get drinks and snacks and there were a few people at a long table in the middle, talking and laughing. They seemed so at home, like they knew each other and they belonged there. There was no sign of Kate, Lottie or Aunt Sarah. Or Joe.

I got a bottle of water from the bar area and made my way
back down the slope to our bungalow. I let myself back into our room, lay on my bed and stared at the skylight in the sloped roof. There was the beginning of a cobweb up in the righthand corner.

It felt
so
quiet.

Somewhere in the distance a dog barked. A fly buzzed at the window.

It was so quiet that you could almost
hear
the silence, but I guess that was the point. That was what people paid to come here for, but to me, after the hussle and bustle of London, it felt . . .
boring.

How on earth am I going to get through four whole weeks here?
I asked myself. I was in a place full of people, sixty of them, according to Anisha.
It's not like I'm alone,
I told myself.
So why do I feel so lonely?

No one cares about me,
I thought as I wondered what Mum and the boys were doing back in London. Tears pricked my eyes. I felt cross with Kate. She'd made me feel like I was a hanger-on. A clingy hanger-on.
This is all new to me and I didn't exactly ask to come here either. She could have been more sensitive.

I took my phone off the recharger and texted Erin.

WethR is luvly. rly
rly
rly rly wsh U wre hre.