Wildflower Bay

by Rachael Lucas

  Lily adjusted them: ‘A little bit closer, like this –’ and in that second, Finn’s head was touching Isla’s, and the circle was complete. Isla felt a jolt of something quite unexpected shoot through her. It was a long time since she’d been this close to any man. Isla lay completely still, barely breathing, hyper-aware of every movement her body made.

  Lily instructed them to close their eyes. The air filled with an eerie, low-pitched humming noise, which became lower and deeper, taking up the space around them until it seemed to resonate within Isla, deep inside her body. She drifted away, time and space lost in the sound.

  A gentle touch on her arm woke her. God – had she fallen asleep on the grass? She opened her eyes and sat up with a start, gasping in surprise.

  ‘Shhh.’ Lily motioned, open-palmed, to the rest of the group. They were all still lying, eyes closed. ‘Take your time.’ Isla curled herself into a cross-legged position, kidding herself that she was looking with equal interest at everyone in the group. But she found herself drawn to Finn’s face, long eyelashes sweeping down onto his dark tanned skin, his cheeks shadowed by fair stubble. He had a look of the Viking about him, she realized – the island ancestry showing. As Lily laid a gentle hand on his chest, he was the last in the circle to wake. He opened sleepy blue eyes, looking up at Isla with surprise before sitting up, running a hand through his dark blond hair.

  ‘God. Did I fall asleep?’

  ‘That’s exactly what I thought,’ Isla smiled at him. ‘No, your secret’s safe with me.’

  ‘I must’ve been knackered.’

  The rest of the group were yawning and stretching their arms wide. Despite her quirky manner, Lily clearly knew her stuff. Everyone seemed far more relaxed and the group were all smiling at one another as if they’d shared something far more hypnotic than a meditation circle.

  ‘The singing bowl has therapeutic benefits for everyone.’ Lily held out a heavy metal pot. ‘And now that we are relaxed, the next thing we need to do is get everyone into pairs. Sandy and Phillip, I would like to see you two working together. Claire and Stewart, Paul and Ann-Marie, if you could all come with me, I’ll settle you into your working space.’

  Everyone stood up and followed Lily obediently to their positions.

  ‘What are we doing now?’ Finn looked across the unkempt lawn. Another couple had been placed on the water’s edge and were sitting, facing each other, cross-legged.

  ‘I have no idea.’ Isla put a palm down flat on the soft, new grass. She looked down as a tiny black-and-yellow ladybird made its way across the back of her hand. She could have quite easily made her excuses and left now, but – well, she was surprisingly keen to see what came next, and if she was honest with herself she was enjoying being in Finn’s company, despite the dire warnings she’d had from Shannon and Jinny about his reputation as the island Lothario. He seemed surprisingly down-to-earth – but then, Isla realized, it was more than likely that he didn’t find her remotely attractive, so that wasn’t really much of a shock.

  Finn didn’t seem to be in any rush to get away, either.

  ‘Here we are. Now, you two are perfect just as you are. Finn, if you can just turn yourself around so you are facing Isla directly, and we can begin.’ Finn swung round on the grass so he too was sitting cross-legged across from Isla.

  ‘A little closer. I need you in contact for this one.’

  ‘Sorry.’ Finn’s knee brushed Isla’s, and she felt her cheeks flushing.

  ‘It’s fine.’ Her heart was hammering against her chest now. This was a bit more than she’d expected. He was close enough that she could feel the warmth of his body touching hers.

  ‘Now this is very simple. As you are all first-time participants, we aren’t going to do the whole eleven minutes. We will simply begin with seven.’

  Seven minutes of meditation was more than Isla had ever managed in the past, and seven minutes of meditation whilst knee-to-knee with a surprisingly handsome man – even one who wasn’t remotely interested in her – was going to be a bit of a challenge, but Isla nodded politely. She closed her eyes in preparation.

  ‘Oh no, we need your eyes open for this one. This is the gazing exercise.’

  Finn widened his eyes at Isla in horrified amusement. ‘What are we gazing at?’

  ‘Each other,’ said Lily, simply. She looked around, assuring herself that everyone was in place. ‘When the ting-sha bells ring, we begin. And I will ring them again to signify the end of the session.’

  ‘Is it too late to make a run for the pub?’ Finn hissed at Isla. He clearly felt as uncomfortable as she did.

  ‘What’s a ting-sha?’ she hissed back, just as the unmistakable sound of the bells chimed out clearly in the silence of the afternoon sunlight.

  How hard can this be? Isla thought. All I have to do is look into his eyes for seven minutes. Finn’s eyes were blue, with a hazel-brown ring around the circumference. At the corners were laughter lines that suggested someone who didn’t take life – or himself – too seriously. His eyebrows were dark, and framed his face well – not overgrown, not bushy – Isla saw male clients come in all the time looking for a haircut and only as they prepared to leave, their session at a close, would they say, almost in passing, ‘you couldn’t do something about . . .’ and they’d wave to a monobrow, or Denis Healey eyebrows that were threatening to take over the whole of their face, and . . .

  She shifted in her seat. It didn’t matter how she tried to keep herself busy with stream-of-consciousness chatter in her head: the truth was that having Finn gazing directly into her eyes was stopping her brain from working properly. It also seemed to stop her looking into his eyes. It was like a game. If he was focusing on her, she couldn’t seem to focus back, and when that happened she felt strangely vulnerable. It was also strangely hard to look into both eyes at the same time. She dropped her gaze for a second, looking back at him, taking the advantage. It wasn’t supposed to be combat, she remembered. His pupils relaxed and dilated. Her heart was thumping so loudly in her chest that she was certain he could hear it. Uncomfortable, she looked away. When she looked up again he was still there, looking steadily into her eyes. Time seemed to have stopped. They’d been there for hours. She felt for a moment like she was going to cry, and in the same moment she saw something – a look of sadness within the depths of Finn’s blue eyes – and suddenly, inexplicably, Isla found herself wanting to reach out and hold his hand. He shifted his gaze for a second, looking down before raising his eyes to meet hers again, the tiniest sparkle of amusement there now. He was challenging her, a tiny flicker of the eyebrow suggesting she wouldn’t make it. You’ll see, Isla thought, raising her chin in defiance. She looked at him, feeling the corners of her mouth twitching in amusement.

  The bells rang out.

  They sprang apart, both sitting back slightly. Isla closed her eyes for a second.

  ‘Well . . . that was intense.’ Finn shifted his weight back onto his arms, arching his back in a stretch.

  ‘And hug your partner,’ Lily’s voice sang out.

  Finn reached across, almost hesitantly. It was strange, but it somehow made sense – Isla leaned into him, feeling his arms wrap around her for a fleeting moment, the heat of his skin beneath his T-shirt. His heart was thumping, too. She pulled back.

  ‘How did you find that?’ Lily bent down beside them, taking their hands and holding them for a few moments. This was all getting a bit too close for comfort. ‘No need to talk. No need.’ She smiled at them peacefully. ‘My guides tell me you’re harbouring a long-held hurt, Finn, my darling. Release it, and you can move on to achieve your full potential.’

  Finn cleared his throat uncomfortably, making a vague noise of agreement. He folded his arms across his chest in a subconscious gesture, one so obvious that even Isla picked up on it. Lily raised a silent, but slightly admonishing eyebrow.

  ‘And Isla. Sweet Isla.’ Lily gave her hand a little shake as she held it, as if to loosen her up. ‘You have so muc
h to offer. You must open your heart.’

  With that, Lily stood up, and made her way down the field to the next couple.

  ‘I’m sure she was meant to give us a chance to tell her how it went.’ Finn grinned at Isla. ‘That was freaky. D’you reckon we can make our escape yet? I don’t know about you but I could murder a pint of something non-herbal and definitely not organic.’

  As if she – or her spirit guides – read his mind, Lily suddenly called out cheerfully, ‘Come on, everyone, let’s go up to the house for some delicious refreshment.’

  ‘Grrrrargggh!’

  Isla jumped sideways just in time as Lucien, the demon child, hurtled towards her, brandishing a huge wooden – was that a penis? He disappeared into the trees behind her.

  ‘Lucien, sweetheart, we need that totem for the meditation circle in a moment, darling. Can you just pop it back in the peace yurt?’

  There was no reply, but some distinctly un-peaceful crashing and yelling from the undergrowth was followed by an ominous splash, which suggested something untoward was going on.

  ‘Lucien?’ Lily’s voice had a faint air of desperation.

  ‘Shall I nip over and see what’s going on?’

  ‘That would be wonderful, Finn. Bless you.’ Lily smiled at him beatifically, inclining her head to one side. ‘He is such a sweetheart,’ she added, watching his disappearing back as he strode into the woods. He was clad in a pair of faded, beaten-up jeans, a grey T-shirt clinging to a muscular back that Lily was clearly quite taken with. ‘So good with Lucien. He adored him the moment he met him – I took him down to see Finn at work in his studio. So good to see a man with both yin and yang in perfect balance.’

  Isla managed not to snort with laughter. Lily’s expression suggested she’d be quite keen to balance Finn’s yin and yang herself. She was looking at him as if he was the only cream cake at an organic tofu buffet.

  ‘Anyway, Isla, I can’t thank you enough for coming up here. I’d love to exchange knowledge with you. I’m hoping to manifest my own holistic range of therapeutic products, but with your knowledge in the meantime, it will be marvellous to get an idea of the sort of things the right people are using.’ She set off towards the house. Isla, slightly bemused, followed her.

  ‘Well, yes, I—’ she began.

  ‘Lindenflower and honey tea?’ Not waiting for a response, Lily poured a sludge-green liquid into a chipped mug and handed it across the table. ‘Have a seat. I do love it when everyone gathers here in the kitchen. So important for the house to have a real soul, don’t you think?’

  ‘Yes, I—’

  ‘Oh, look, there’s Finny now, having fun with Lucien.’ Lily motioned outside, where Isla could see Finn, dripping wet and covered in mud, carrying a flailing Lucien under one arm and the wooden phallus in his other hand. It didn’t look particularly enjoyable.

  ‘So good for him to have an adult male to sport with,’ beamed Lily. ‘Not that I want him to grow up with unnecessary prejudices about gender, of course.’

  ‘Of course.’ Isla sipped the tea. It was utterly revolting.

  ‘Just give me two moments,’ trilled Lily. ‘I’m going to pop outside and see if Finn needs any help.’

  I bet you are, thought Isla.

  ‘Excuse me.’ A voice came from outside so Isla left the kitchen.

  A plump and very pretty blonde-haired woman of about thirty stood with her partner – at least, Isla supposed they were together, as they were clamped side by side, looking uncertain.

  ‘Are you here for the silent retreat?’ the man whispered to Isla, first looking from side to side, a guilty expression on his face.

  ‘Matthew, it said on the email – we’re not in silence until after dinner.’ The woman looked at Isla, shaking her head with an all-men-are-idiots expression before turning back to him. Definitely together. She hissed at him crossly, ‘I told you that already in the car. Honestly.’

  ‘Oh.’ His voice was unexpectedly deep. He was, Isla noticed, dressed in a manner that suggested an overgrown toddler, or as if his mother had suggested he make an extra-special effort for the occasion. Dark beige chinos were neatly ironed, the hem doubled over above spotlessly clean navy boat shoes and the kind of almost-invisible socks you wore to the gym. His top half, complete with a childlike, slightly rounded tummy (Isla couldn’t help wondering if he’d growl if she poked it, like her old teddy bear) was clad in a very new, very neat blue and white striped cotton top. He looked very sweet, very earnest and utterly sexless. Especially, Isla was surprised to find herself thinking, in comparison to Finn, who’d strode off towards the Land Rover a moment ago, flashing her what had looked like a grin of complicity. He’d swung up into the back of the trailer, having thrown a pile of log offcuts in carelessly, vaulting over the back on tanned arms, T-shirt hitching up to show that muscled back which clearly had no need of gyms or – Isla shook herself. For goodness’ sake.

  ‘So,’ said the woman, rousing Isla from her thoughts, ‘if you’re not here for the retreat – d’you work here?’

  ‘Me?’ God forbid, thought Isla, suddenly very grateful for the salon, with Jinny’s mad ramblings and Shannon’s gruff manner. ‘No, I’m just here to visit. I’m not from the island. I –’ She paused for a moment, noticing that Lily was climbing back over the gate that led down to the paddock full of Highland cows. What on earth was she doing now?

  A bucket in one hand, long skirt trailing almost to the ground, clad in a rainbow T-shirt and wellies, she was marching back across the drive.

  ‘Ah! Wonderful.’ Lily’s clear voice reached them.

  ‘Is this the owner?’ The man looked at Isla with an expression of concern. The woman reached across wordlessly, lacing her fingers through his.

  ‘You must be Felicity and Matthew.’ Lily stamped towards them, putting down the bucket a few feet away with a clatter of metal on gravel.

  Felicity nodded. Matthew pulled at the neck of his Breton-striped top as if adjusting a non-existent tie.

  ‘Splendid.’ Lily motioned to the bucket. ‘Cowshit. Wonderful for the roses.’

  Isla caught Felicity’s eye. The split-second expression said more than enough. Get me out of here, it said. Who is this woman? it said. I could have been on a spa week in Berkshire with luxury treatment rooms, it said.

  Isla gave a sympathetic grimace that she hoped expressed what she was thinking, which was, ‘Beats me, I should be having breakfast in Starbucks right now.’

  ‘Lovely Isla is not just a hairdressing artist, but she is an absolute walking encyclopaedia of natural hair products, aren’t you?’

  Isla, feeling slightly panicked that if she didn’t escape soon she might end up railroaded into taking part in a silent retreat, smiled vaguely and stepped sideways, trying to look for Finn. It was a long walk back to her car, and he was her only other source of escape.

  ‘Right, then.’ Lily actually clapped her hands, like a schoolteacher. ‘Why don’t you two come along and meet the others who made the earlier boat.’

  Felicity and Matthew followed her, expressions slightly guilty. ‘I told you we should have left earlier,’ Felicity hissed. Matthew glowered back at her.

  Lily had already picked up the bucket of manure and was marching towards the house, singing a folk song completely unselfconsciously, and completely off-key.

  ‘Phillip, Ann-Marie, Paul, Sandy –’ Lily began, waving a bangle-jingling arm in an arc towards the four people who were sitting at the kitchen table, with the pot of Lily’s revolting-smelling leaf and herb tea in front of them – ‘this is Matthew.’ Where were the others? She guided him with a firm hand in the small of his back to a chair on the far side of the table. He sat down with an obedient plop, like a well-trained Labrador.

  ‘And this –’ with a well-practised movement, Lily had somehow detached Felicity from her partner’s side – ‘is Felicity.’

  Felicity sat down, looking deeply uncomfortable and giving her partner a wide-eyed silent glare of horror. />
  ‘If you’d all like to take a moment to introduce yourselves.’ Lily reached across to the wooden dresser behind Isla, which was festooned with fairy lights and an assortment of religious icons, feathers, and smouldering incense cones. She handed Stewart a painted wooden stick decorated with sparkling threads and glitter. ‘Stewart, you have the talking stick. I’ll just sort things out with Isla and I’ll be right with you. Two shakes of a mermaid’s tail.’

  Isla, trying not to giggle, caught Claire’s eye as she turned to leave. ‘Help me,’ mouthed Claire, silently.

  Lily had clearly been hoping they’d hang around for the whole day, but there was only so much yoghurt knitting Finn could take. She’d let them go on the condition that he and Isla promised to take part in the wishing ceremony at the Clootie Well at the end of the week. They’d both nodded dutifully, before grabbing their things and jumping into Finn’s Land Rover with indecent haste.

  ‘Well, that was . . . unexpected.’ He put the car into gear and they crunched down the drive, wheels spinning.

  He looked across at Isla. An afternoon in the sunshine had brought out a smattering of freckles on her high cheekbones and her pale face was flushed with colour. It had been a pretty weird experience. He’d only stayed because he was strangely drawn to this prickly, standoffish girl who seemed to have nothing good to say about the island he loved so much.

  There was irony in her voice as she spoke, a half-smile playing on her lips. ‘You aren’t a fan of “nurturing the goddess”?’

  He snorted with derision. ‘Not when it seems to consist of doing Lily’s gardening by the light of the moon, no. You?’

  ‘I’m all right for gardening, I think.’ Her tone was dry.

  ‘Yeah.’ He looked across at Isla. She had a still quality that reminded him of one of the deer he sometimes came across in the forest when working: silent and watchful, huge dark eyes fringed with long, sweeping lashes. At any second she seemed likely to dart away – and yet she was as far from a country girl as you could get, dressed even today in a close-fitting black vest top, cropped black jeans and an expensive-looking pale cardigan.