DAY ONE: 1. Wild swimming. 2. Grounding. 3. Manifesting. 4. 100-squat challenge. 5. Communion with nature.
My new life starts today! Bring it on!
To be honest, I’m not quite as pumped this morning as I thought I’d be. Last night I imagined waking up full of energy, jumping out of bed, and dashing down to the beach. Whereas this morning, when it actually comes to it, I feel a bit more like …
Going back to bed, a voice says inside my head, but I ignore it. That won’t achieve a better me, will it? I probably just need some breakfast.
My phone pings and I check to see if it’s Mum or Kirsten, but it’s from the Rilston. Another text from the Rilston?
We are proud to announce resident magician Mike Strangeways will be performing tricks in the lobby at lunchtime. Come and join the fun!
I can’t help rolling my eyes. First, it doesn’t sound like fun. And second, this is the fifth message I’ve received this morning. The others were:
Sex on the Beach, anyone? Remember, cocktails are half price on Wednesdays.
ATTENTION!! There will be a fire-alarm practice this morning at 10.
Do you have feedback on your hotel experience? Why not talk to our friendly team?
Woof! Dogs are very welcome at the Rilston. Please dial 067 for details.
As I’m gazing at my phone, it pings again and yet another text arrives.
FUN FACT: The Rilston was the country residence of the Carroday family until 1895.
I feel a flicker of annoyance. That’s not a “fun fact.” It’s just a fact. A really boring fact, which I didn’t need to know and is now clogging up my phone.
Anyway, never mind. Think positive. I thrust my phone into my pocket, take a deep breath, and head downstairs.
Breakfast is served in the dining room, which is massive. There are vast windows, huge pillars, and acres of patterned carpet, although only about ten tables, oddly spaced here and there. The waiter who greets me is skinny, with a solemn face, and seems so young he barely needs to shave. He leads me to a tiny table in the corner of the room, pours me a glass of water, then hurriedly disappears. I’m the only person in the room, I realize, looking around. So why have they put me here in this dark corner? I could sit wherever I like. I will sit wherever I like.
Picking up my glass of water, I decide on a big table in the bay window. I take a seat, put my glass of water on the tablecloth, lean forward to enjoy the view—and the table promptly collapses, me with it.
“Ow!” I cry out before I can stop myself, and the next thing I know, both the waiter and Cassidy are running toward me.
“Nikolai!” Cassidy scolds the waiter as she untangles me from the tablecloth. “Why did you put her at one of the dodgy tables? It’s not really a table,” she adds confidingly to me. “We’re a bit short on furniture, so we just whack tablecloths on any old thing. This one’s a bit of board balanced on a couple of towel rails,” she adds, quickly reassembling it. “Clever, isn’t it? Looks just like a table.”
“But what if you need to use it?” I say, bewildered.
“We never do,” Cassidy assures me. “Now, has Simon been to see you? Only he wanted to apologize about the kale—oh, look, there he is.”
Approaching us is a man in his forties with a thinning hairline and a harassed expression, wiping his hands down his brown suit.
“Ms. Worth, I’m Simon Palmer, the manager. Welcome to the Rilston.” He extends a hand and gingerly I take it, wondering what he was wiping on his suit. “And before I say anything else, I would like to apologize.” His face becomes stricken. “Despite our best efforts, we have been unable to source the organic kale that your PA so specifically requested. We hope to receive some today, but I would like to offer you complimentary breakfast this morning as recompense.”
“Don’t worry,” I say hastily. “It’s fine.”
“It is not fine.” He shakes his head mournfully. “It is far from fine. These are not the high standards we expect of ourselves at the Rilston. I made a promise to your PA and I have not fulfilled that promise. We’re also having trouble locating goji berries and …” He looks at Cassidy. “What was the other thing?”
“Noni juice,” says Cassidy. “Sounds rude, doesn’t it?” she adds with a giggle, then claps her hand over her mouth. “Sorry. Unprofessional.”
“Yes. The noni juice.” Simon shakes his head heavily. “Believe me, Ms. Worth, I am mortified by our failure. I will get you that noni juice, if I have to squeeze the noni myself.”
“Well … thank you,” I say, feeling embarrassed.
“Other than that, has your stay been comfortable so far? You’re here for a health break, I understand? Ah, here’s Nikolai with your green smoothie,” he adds. “In the absence of organic kale, our chef used frozen Birds Eye peas.”
Birds Eye peas?
I stare aghast as the waiter approaches with a glass of green gloop, which is presumably whizzed-up peas. He puts it on the tiny table in the corner as Cassidy watches curiously.
“I don’t suppose you want bacon and eggs for breakfast?” she says. “Or pancakes?”
“Of course she doesn’t!” says Simon testily, before I can answer. “Use your brain, Cassidy! Our guest is here on a wellness break. She will prefer the melon plate. And herbal tea.”
“Yes,” I say reluctantly. “That sounds … great.”
I could die for some pancakes, but I can’t admit that now.
“One melon plate, one herbal tea,” says Cassidy, as my phone bleeps with another text. I click on it out of habit and see yet another message from the Rilston.
Do you enjoy ballroom dancing? Please accept a complimentary ten-minute ballroom-dancing lesson from our resident experts Nigel and Debs!
“Thanks for the dance-lesson offer,” I say to Simon. “But I don’t think I’ll have time today.” He looks puzzled, so I peer at my phone again. “The ballroom dancing?” I clarify. “I just got a text offering me a complimentary lesson with Nigel and Debs?”
Simon and Cassidy exchange looks of consternation.
“That app!” exclaims Cassidy. “See, Simon? I told you! It’s still inviting the guests to ballroom dancing! We never did have ballroom dancing,” she confides to me. “Nigel and Debs don’t exist. The tech guy put it on as an example and never got rid of it.”
“Ms. Worth, what other messages have you received?” asks Simon, looking beleaguered.
“Er …” I scroll down the messages. “Apparently Mike Strangeways is doing magic tricks in the lobby today?”
Cassidy emits a squeak and claps a hand over her mouth, while Simon’s consternation seems to have doubled.
“Mike Strangeways was dismissed a year ago for … unsavory behavior,” he says, as though speaking with difficulty.
“He got hammered,” puts in Cassidy, winking at me. “Went a bit too far with his magic wand, know what I mean? He’s a one, Mike.”
“Cassidy!” hisses Simon, then he turns to me, breathing hard. “Ms. Worth, I can only apologize that his name has appeared on your phone. These are not the high standards we expect of ourselves at the Rilston. We have let you down and we have let ourselves down. Cassidy, please send Ms. Worth some flowers at once, by way of recompense.”