The Spa Day (4 page)

It takes me a little bit longer to choose as all the dishes
are new to me and have lots of unusual things in them so it’s hard to keep one
thing in your head when you’re looking at the next thing!

Eventually, I decide to have lightly grilled trout with a
loganberry coulis accompanied by three different types of bean sprout, exotic
lettuce and organic radish. The waitress brings some bowls to the table, which
contain more down-to-earth salad ingredients. I think you could probably eat
like this all of the time if you had a gourmet health chef living in your flat
and a waitress to serve it to you. Easy-peasy!

I sip my mineral water and look out of the window, hoping
Rebecca’s had a stroke and can’t speak. That’s cruel, but I always blame
thoughts like that on the person who inspired them in the first place, as if
they’ve infected you with an evil thought virus. As a nurse, I know this is
possible, take it from me.

‘So how was James’s big bamboo?’ she smirks, raising a
knowing and freshly plucked eyebrow. I smile at her
unamusing
half-joke and wonder if her tan is real and whether she spends the rest of her
time on exotic holidays in warm climes. Could be either, I decide. I have to
try and lead this conversation so it doesn’t become too tedious.

‘The massage was great. I’ve got some knotting in a few of
my shoulder muscles and it certainly did the trick with them. Hurt a bit at
first, though.’

‘I wish James would ‘do the trick’ with me! I tried to get
him for a bamboo special, but they said all his sessions were fully booked,
which is a shame. I had a lovely Indian Head Massage this afternoon, though.’
She points at her face. ‘Can you see the difference?’

I’m not sure what I’m meant to be looking for. ‘Are we still
talking about the Indian Head Massage?’

‘No, silly! The Non-Surgical Face Firming! Do you think it’s
made a difference? I think it has.’

I truly have no idea how to respond to this. Do I say
something like ‘Yes! As soon as I saw you I thought your face was looking much
firmer than it did earlier on today! You certainly didn’t waste your money (or
hubby’s money) on that particular treatment, no
sirree
!’

Instead, all I can come up with is ‘I think it’s made a huge
difference.’ Actually, her face just looks a little bit red, like someone has
held it against an oven door for a few minutes or she fell asleep with her head
immersed in beetroot juice.

‘Good!’ I may book another one in that case. No one seems to
be booking them – unlike your sexy massage sessions with the big bamboos!’

It goes on like this for ten tedious,
cringeworthy
minutes before the main course is served. Rebecca spends a few minutes moving
the food around her plate with a fork, then gets bored with it. She’s more
interested in me, or so it seems for a moment.

‘So tell me how you met your fiancé! Was it romantic?’

‘Well, I…’

‘I met my hubby at a party in Saudi. I was working out there
as a PA to this marvellous plastics firm. Great job, great salary. His bank was
financing some scheme to do with our pipes contract. Mucho money. I could hear
him talking from a few yards away. Very loud voice. I don’t know about you but
a man with a loud voice is something of a turn-on for me. Not braying, exactly.
A bit, a bit quieter than that. He was recently divorced. A divorced man knows
how to look after a woman.’

‘So does he still work out there now?’

‘Of course! It’s where the money is. When you told me about
your fiancé and HK, you reminded me of me a few years back. The world’s a
smaller place now. Years ago, well, if you were married to someone who lived in
a different country – a different continent, even – it would have seemed a
little unusual. Now it’s completely normal.’

‘So how often do you see him?’

She looks upwards and her eyes roll around, as if she’s
trying to work out a difficult maths problem. She looks a bit mad.

‘Well, it’s December now and I was here last in late August
or early September, so it must have been before that, so it must have been
around June. Yes. June. Early June. Or was it May? We went to Italy for ten
days. Tuscany. Have you been?’

‘No. I’ve never been to Italy.’

‘You must. It’s marvellous. We rented a villa. Went to
Florence for the day once, but it was just full of museums. Anyway, the time
simply flies by when he’s not here. You’ll find that out when you’re
married.
 
I’ve got so much to do. Where
is it you said? HK? And the marvellous thing is, you’re never really far away
from them when they work abroad. Texting, email, webcam – it’s like they’re in
the next room – not that you’d want them in the next room! Webcam is a godsend.
You wouldn’t believe the things we get up to!’ She reaches across the table and
rests one of her hands on mine. ‘You’ll have a great time when you’re married.
You’re very beautiful and you’ve got a great figure. Fantastic cleavage. I wish
I had one. They’ll be crawling over broken glass to get to you!’

WTF?! I can hardly believe what I’m hearing. She’s talking
about all of this like it’s common sense. You get married to some rich bloke
who lives in another country and spend all your spare time in health farms, having
affairs, webcam sex and sly massage orgasms, with the odd luxury holiday with
your husband thrown in when he’s got the time or inclination. Or when he’s not
shagging his secretary. Is Clive shagging his secretary?

What’s worse is that Rebecca has mistaken me for a younger
version of herself! Is that how I come across? The waitress comes and clears
our plates and we both order a desert. Normally I wouldn’t, but I still feel
hungry and want something sweet, even if it means listening to Rebecca for another
ten or fifteen minutes. I can’t imagine what’s coming next. Maybe she’ll want
to teach me some of the tricks of her trade! Advanced webcam technique!

‘Of course, I’m sure hubby has fun over there when I’m not
around, but as long as I don’t know about it I don’t really care. As long as he
plays safe and I don’t catch anything nasty!’

She laughs and almost chokes, gulping down some fizzy spring
water to get her voice back. ‘He always tells me if he’s been a naughty boy,
though. You have to have honesty in a marriage. It’s just so, so important. So
many couples we know have fallen by the wayside.’

The dessert arrives. It looks like a chocolate mousse,
decorated with
whitecurrants
, a leaf of some sort
(not mint) and a little smear of purple liquid, but when you dig your spoon in
it, it’s unbelievably light, as if it’s made from a cloud. It tastes fantastic.
Zero calories, I would imagine. Why don’t they sell things like this in the
supermarket? Too expensive or difficult to mass produce, probably.

She wants to go into the Velcro Room (I’m sure that’s not
what she said, but it sounded like that!) and have an after dinner coffee and a
chat, but I tell her I’m too tired and it’s the truth. I’ve been doing a lot on
not very much food and feel tired and a little faint now, rather than vibrant
and healthy. It’s been a tough day – swimming, steam baths, massages, Tai Chi
and all the rest – and I just want to flop down in my room, read for a while
and then go to sleep. I was going to go to the gym, hit the treadmill and lift
some weights, but in the end I couldn’t be bothered!

Rebecca doesn’t mind and gives me a little wave as we leave
the dining room. She’s exhausting; I feel like I’ve been talking to her (or
listening to her talk to me) all day! Perhaps all that talking is why her
husband works in another country in the first place.

When I get to my room, I undress and get into my fluffy
Willows robe, check my mobile for texts (still nothing) and lie on the bed,
thinking about all the things Rebecca had said. Amazing. It was like meeting
someone from another world and I’m not sure that it was a very nice one!

I get into bed and read for a while, but my eyes soon get
tired and I put the book down and turn the light off. Just before I fall
asleep, I think about James. He must be about the same age as Clive, but seems
so much younger. Or is it that Clive seems so much older? I allow myself a
brief smile. I could have sworn that I experienced a little heart palpitation
when I first saw him. Same thing that happened with Simon, all those years ago.
And James is funny, just like Simon was.

Three

I’m still dreaming when the noise happens. It isn’t my
alarm, which has a very annoying, but loud and regular bleep. In my dream, my
mind races across an unreal gallery of all the electrical things I’ve got. Have
I left the fridge door open? Is someone, by some miracle, using the landline?
Is it the fire alarm? No. batteries ran out months ago. I start to wake up
properly, remember where I am and finally identify the sound, which has now
stopped. It’s my mobile. It’s making the noise it makes when someone’s sent a
text.

I turn the light on and look at my watch. It says it’s 4.37
a.m.

That can’t be right, can it?

I pick up my mobile and look at the message that it’s just
received. It’s from Clive. Does he have no idea that I’m in a different time
zone? What time must it be in Hong Kong? Must be about mid-day, I guess.

Outblaze
new
acq
.
I’m handling! Xxx

I have no idea what that means, so turn the mobile off and
drop it onto the floor. Sounds more like an inter-office memo than something
you’d send to a girlfriend or fiancée. Oh well. Just before I drop off I think
about Rebecca. What was it she said that was weird? As long as he plays safe
and I don’t catch anything nasty! God almighty. I hope he gets himself tested
regularly!

I wake up properly just after seven-thirty and lie in bed
staring at the ceiling. What have I got today? Breakfast first (I’m starving
already), followed by a swim, a steam bath and then onto my sample yoga class.
I just hope the yoga doesn’t hurt too much and I don’t dislocate anything. In
my mind, yoga has always been a healthy thing to do, but I wonder if that’s
because it sounds a bit like yogurt? Yoga. Yogurt. Are they connected? In some
new-
agey
universe? Where does Yoda come into it?

I then plan to sit in the spa reading for a while and after
that I’ve got my second bamboo massage with James. I think about the meal times
and how I can avoid sitting next to Rebecca again. It’s like Russian roulette.
Should I go later or earlier to breakfast? Maybe she goes later, too! What
about lunch? Should I go earlier or later to dinner? Maybe by an hour? Oh well,
sod it. She’s fascinating, but there’s something about her conversation I don’t
like. Difficult to put my finger on what it is, though.

I remember Clive’s text from the middle of the night (or so
it seemed to me!) and look at it again. It’s not something you can really reply
to, as far as I can see, so I don’t. I get up, have a shower, get casually
dressed (you’re allowed that for breakfast!) and head to the dining room, where
the usual starving crowds are hanging around outside, waiting for the doors to
open.

As I sit there, munching away at some concoction with goat’s
milk yogurt, strawberries and roasted almonds (very nice – just like having
pudding for breakfast!), I start thinking about Clive’s middle of the night
text and start to get rather annoyed. I didn’t tell him I was coming here, so
as far as he knew, I had work this morning! I mean – who does that? He’s got an
expensive watch that tells him what time it is in every country in the world
and on the moon, so I know he’s fully aware of what time it is here. Maybe he
did it on purpose! Maybe it amused him! Maybe he’s just spiteful!

I put all those nasty thoughts and assorted maybes out of my
head and am just deciding whether to have some wholemeal toast when Rebecca
comes and sits next to me. Damn! Even though it’s breakfast time, she’s still
dressed to the nines and I notice that she’s got different jewellery on from
last night. Perhaps it’s a none-too-subtle signal to everyone else which says
‘I’ve got more money that you’ or ‘look what hubby’s bought me!’ Maybe she buys
it for herself from the housekeeping!

I look around the dining room and count four men and about
fifteen women. All the men are pretty boring looking and some are pretty
seriously overweight, so Rebecca’s wasting her time if she’s trying to look
attractive for them. I could be being unfair, of course. She might just like
looking smart. She doesn’t eat anything and simply sips at a cup of mud coffee.

‘Silky Locks in ten minutes! Have you tried it?’

I’m not sure what Silky Locks is. ‘No.’ I reply.

‘It’s like a facial, but for the hair. You know the sort of
thing – head massage, repair treatment. They give you a hand and arm massage at
the same time! You should try it. You’ve got lovely hair, but there’s always
something they can do to make it better. You take your hair for granted, I
find. It’s pretty expensive, but hubby thinks all these things are worth the
money. He likes to see me looking glam.’

On those few occasions that he sees you at all.

She flicks her hair back and looks around the room, like a
teenager checking out the talent at a village hall disco. ‘He says that me
coming here is rather like sending one of his cars in for a service. A
de-coke.’

If someone described me as being like a car that needed a
service, I’d punch them in the mouth. I notice for the first time that Rebecca
is terribly thin. I’m looking at her with my nurse’s hat on and she looks like
a skeleton. She looks ill and stressed. Lots of face makeup. Maybe that’s what
hours on the treadmill can do to you. Maybe something’s eating her up from the
inside. A tapeworm? Probably not! I think about Clive and realise with dismay
that I could easily imagine him making the de-coke comment about me to one of
his friends.