“That sounds very new-age hippie,” I remarked, wondering if he believed in God or not.
He shrugged, still smiling. “We accommodate everyone. If you want to believe in woodland fairies, we’ll accommodate you, too.” Turning back to the plan, he made a sweeping circle with his hand. “And outside the main building, we have the stables, the brewery, various barns and fields and the forge. The inner six rooms are where the challenges will be held. One room for each challenge.”
I pointed to the very centre of the monastery, or at least what would be the centre if the plan was intact. The circle of six hexagonal rooms would have to leave a space in the middle. “And what is here?”
“There’s nothing there. Just a dark space. Now, if you continue along the hall and head right, you’ll find the cloister. It’s a long, covered walkway that faces the garden. I’m sure you’d rather be out there than in here. Go and have breakfast. Are you hungry?”
“Yes, a little.”
“Well, go grab what you can before it’s all gone.”
Following Brother Vito’s instructions, I headed off. I found the cloister and wandered out gratefully into the thick, green foliage. Sunlight rushed down from a deep cyan sky, its warmth astonishing after the cool of the interior, gold streaks of sun glinting biblically along the top of the high stone wall. Everything felt religious here, even the air. I wasn’t religious. but it gave me hope I could somehow be reborn during this week.
Past the top of a perimeter wall, I glimpsed the bare, reddish hills I’d only seen in darkness last night. And then I spotted them—the birds that had been making the startling, alien-sounding noise earlier when I was in bed. They were peacocks. Nothing more exotic than that. Their bodies were a startling, shimmering blue against the red soil of the hill. I’d never seen or heard a wild flock of them before.
I stepped along a path where sun-warmed scents of lavender eddied around me, spills of pink and red bougainvillea bright against the old stonework. Fruit weighed heavily on small mature trees—pears, figs and mandarins. Deep-green trees that I thought might be pistachios stood like a mini-forest. A waterway wound around the long curve of the nearby cloister, filled with orange-hued koi.
“So, what’s your sin?” a voice came from behind me—high and female, the accent English.
I spun around. The girl was short and soft-looking, all her edges smudged and padded. Red bobbed hair framed large blue eyes and pillowy lips.
“My sin?”
“Yeah” she said, walking close. “Smack, cocaine, ice, prescription?”
“Oh . . . no. I don’t take drugs.”
“You were tripping on something this morning.”
“That was you I spoke to? Sorry, it was so dark in that room.” Of course it was her. The voice was the same. I’d just been so strung out by the thought of someone watching me, I’d forgotten her voice.
“It was dark,” she agreed. “Plus, I’ve got my face on now. My boyfriend used to say I was unrecognisable without makeup. He died three months ago. Overdose.”
“God, I’m sorry.”
“Me too. He had a cute butt.” A distinct note of sadness cut through her blithe tone. “So, why are you here? You don’t win a spot on the program without earning it. You’ve been a bad, bad girl at something.”
“I’m a gambler.” It felt almost freeing to say it.
“Congratulations. Pleased to meet you.” She extended a hand. “My name’s Poppy. I think my parents must have seen into my smack-addicted future when they called me that. Y’know, smack being made from poppy-pod sap and all.” She pulled a funny, wrinkled-nose face, as if she’d just told a joke and I was meant to laugh at the punch line.
Shaking her hand, I grinned. “I’m Evie. Named after a song that my dad liked. He was a Stevie Wright fan. So, you got here yesterday?”
“Yep. Like everyone else. Pretty crazy. I mean, look at this place.”
“I know. Of all places I expected, this wasn’t it.” My grin turned nervous and tugged at the corners of my mouth. “How did you find out about the program, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Sure. My psych recommended it.” Poppy pulled a comical face. “She said if I go ahead with the program, I have to go into it like my life depended on it. It’s all so serious, isn’t it?”
I laughed. “Yeah. I guess they think it makes the program seem very important and special. Makes sense. The mentors are putting a lot of money into this. I guess they want it to succeed. Brother Vito was the one who contacted me.”