The Sanctuary by Charlotte Duckworth

Author:Charlotte Duckworth
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Quercus Editions Ltd
Published: 2021-11-10T11:01:43+00:00

Bonnie

Nicky has just left the studio after her session, looking pale-faced and vaguely terrified.

‘What happened?’ I say, walking towards her.

‘What?’ she replies.

‘With Selina? How was it? Are you still upset about the tent thing?’

She presses the palms of her hands together.

‘She told me again that it was the weather. Are you sure you got it right? There was no way it could have been the wind?’

‘I’m only telling you what Badger told me,’ I say defensively. ‘But perhaps he was wrong.’

Neither of us believes it.

‘Listen,’ I say slowly. ‘I’ve been thinking. We could . . . we could always leave. If you like. Go home? I know things haven’t exactly turned out how we planned. Not quite the luxury retreat we were hoping for, and the bloody rain doesn’t help.’

‘What? God, no! Jon spent a fortune, he’d kill me.’

‘Don’t be stupid. He’d understand.’

‘I’m fine,’ she says, giving me a half-hearted smile. ‘Honest. It’s only one more day, and it’s been nice to have a break from home. The food is great at least. And like you said, let’s all just keep an eye out for each other.’

‘OK,’ I say. ‘If you’re sure.’

‘Good luck in your session,’ Nicky says, glancing back at the studio. ‘Selina certainly . . . well, she certainly has a way of making you think outside the box. Ugh, can’t believe I just said that! I hate that phrase.’

I smile.

I feel a tingle of excitement as I approach the studio for my session. Since we got here I haven’t been alone with Selina, not once. I wonder how she feels about me. Whether or not she even cares if I’m having a good time this weekend.

I’ve seen the way she’s looked at me – dismissed me as some stupid kid who’s got knocked up and is headed for a life of failure. Which is a bit hypocritical given how she was almost the same age when she had Kai.

‘Hello?’ I call out to the empty yoga studio.

I didn’t see Selina leave so I go through the door at the back of the studio. But that’s empty too. And then I notice it: another door, leading out from the back of the treatment room. She must have gone somewhere.

I look at the clock. I’m on time. She’s late. I suppose she’ll turn up soon. Perhaps she’s gone to the loo.

The room smells weird – like the college toilets after they’ve been cleaned. A sickly mix of bleach and cheap air freshener. There’s a small sink set into a row of cupboards and drawers, with a mirror above, along one wall, and a kind of massage table pushed up alongside the other.

I start opening the cupboards, but they’re mostly empty. Just some screws and instructions for the massage table in one, cleaning stuff in the other.

I pull open the top drawer and it’s full of the kind of junk you’d expect to find in a newly refurbished house. But there’s something at the back that’s sticking as I try to pull the drawer open wider.

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