Heaven on Earth: A Glamorous British Love Triangle. Sorrel Farm Book 2 by Sara Madderson

Author:Sara Madderson [Madderson, Sara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-08-06T04:00:00+00:00

17

That employees get half-price spa treatments is yet another reason to love working for Sorrel Farm. Sadie’s just had a post-work pedicure, and she wiggles her red-painted toes admiringly as she settles onto a lounger by the indoor pool. She and Lauren are wrapped in fluffy white Sorrel Farm robes, plastic glasses of white wine in hand. Lauren has had a massage and is unlikely to hit the pool; she says she doesn’t want to wash all those gorgeous essential oils off her skin. Sadie could be persuaded, though.

It’s tropical in here. She unties the robe and lets it fall open, shimmying her arms out of it. She has on her favourite black one-piece, the one with an indecent slit down the front. Black is definitely the easiest colour to pull off if you have to expose your winter skin in swimwear. That’s better. The warm air caresses her skin as she looks around. It’s a crime she hasn’t been here before now.

The space is breathtaking. The lights have been dimmed for the evening, and someone has lit candles inside the hurricane lanterns dotted all around the room: small ones on the tables and huge freestanding ones on the tiles. The pool glows aqua and the reflection of the lights plays on the vaulted glass roof of the orangery. Abundant ferns and palms in huge terracotta pots give the room a Harbour Island feel, and soothing meditation music plays. It’s womblike—a world away from the freezing evening outside. She may have to come here every night after work until spring arrives. It’s such a joy to shed her clothes and yet feel so warm.

There are two more women reclining on beds at the far end of the room, and a swimmer cuts powerfully through the water, his bullet-like progress hypnotic. Otherwise, they have the place to themselves. Sadie lies back on her lounger and sighs with pleasure. Its mattress is bed-level comfortable and covered in cosy terry towelling. She takes a sip of chilled Sancerre. This is the life. This is why she moved to Kent. It beats standing in some grimy pub in Soho or Covent Garden after work, that’s for sure.

‘I may even get in the pool,’ she tells Lauren, stretching her legs out languorously. ‘After that lunatic has finished.’

She nods at the human bullet. He’s actually doing butterfly. He’s a blur of muscle as he thrashes through the water, his arms cutting through the surface so cleanly that he makes surprisingly little noise.

‘That lunatic,’ says Lauren, ‘is Ned.’

Sadie sits bolt upright, her jaw dropping. Lauren laughs and points at her face.

‘That reaction is totally priceless.’

‘But—’ Sadie says. ‘Fucking hell.’ So this is how you get a swim scholarship to Princeton. Holy shit. The guy’s a machine. He’s submerged below the surface of the water most of the time, so all she can really see of him are the enormous shoulders and arms that rhythmically power up and out and plough straight down. It’s a decent-sized pool, but he’s making it look like a paddling pool.

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