The California Club Part 8

'You cold, La?' Elliot reaches over to rub my bare arm. 'Here, put this on.' He pulls off his sweater in that weird way men do, reaching back and dragging the whole thing over his head for maximum hair-rumpling potential. It's still warm as he heaps it into my lap.

'But now you'll be cold,' I half protest, slurring rather more than antic.i.p.ated.

'I'll be fine,' Elliot a.s.sures me. 'I've got this one to keep me warm,' he adds, concertina-ing Elise with his embrace.

'Careful!' she whines, wriggling free.

I can't help but snort out loud I love how Elise makes out she's this fragile little sugar-spun waif who'll snap if you hug her with any kind of sincerity. Oh to set Zo-The-Human-Pulverizer on her.

'Shall we go down on to the beach for the sunset?' Helen suggests, noting that all the drinks are now satisfactorily drained. 'I like to huddle up by the rocks - it feels like you're sitting on the edge of the world looking out ...'

'Won't the sand be cold now?' Elise complains, reluctant to leave her floral cus.h.i.+on.

'I'll get some blankets.' Helen jumps up.

'I'll come with you,' I volunteer, eager to compensate for not being one hundred per cent embracing of the new Helen, just in case she's noticed.

'It's just through here ...' Helen leads the way, around to a staff side entrance.

'I can't believe the changes in you,' I pipe, trying to sound as upbeat as possible.

'I can't believe I lived like I did for so long,' Helen sighs.

'How do you mean?'

'Oh you know, I was putting so much energy into being the me I always saw myself becoming, never really stopping to ask whether I was happy.' She frowns, and for a second I see a flash of the old Helen and I don't want her to go back.

'So what happened?' I quickly move her on.

'Reuben took me surfing and I didn't recognize myself out there!' she marvels. 'It was such a good feeling, in that moment I just let it all go.'

'How you thought things should be?' I check, wanting to be clear on how the miracle began.

She nods.

'We lay out on the beach all night and all these thoughts kept whizzing through my head and I just kept coming back to the same thing: "This is it! This is what really matters the rest is just a distraction.'''

I get a rush of vicarious adrenalin and then ask, 'Is that when you gave up your job in Arizona?'

Helen nods. 'That night, when I went back to Reuben's apartment, I faxed a resignation letter to work. I didn't want to risk going back on Monday and slipping into my own routine, losing my nerve.'

'That was a big step.'

'Yes it was, but I had some help.'

The California Club, I think to myself. I want to ask more but I'd feel sneaky getting information before the others.

'Here!' Helen loads my arms with an array of Mexican rugs and throws.

'Are these all yours?' I admire the streaky ridges of color pink to burgundy to blue to brown - like a series of woven sunsets.

'Yup, I've got quite a collection going little tip I learned from your mum: why sit on one thin layer when you could be snuggled in seven!'

Mum never believed in traveling light to the beach there was no need. We were so close we could make five trips if we wanted. Everyone else was on damp towels with rolled-up T-s.h.i.+rts propping up their heads, while we looked like some sumptuous bedouin scenario with winds.h.i.+elds and cus.h.i.+ons and fleece blankets in jewel-bright colors. I feel swimmy with nostalgia and contemplate telling Helen about the B&B, but I don't want to ruin the mood, besides the others will be getting chilly.

'Great blankets!' Zo covets them the second we reach the rocks.

'I got them at this market in Tijuana, fiver each,' Helen brags.

'I'd love to go shopping there!' Zo enthuses. 'I bet Lara could find some real treasures.'

'The border's only twenty minutes away,' Helen tempts her further. 'My sous-chef actually lives over there.'

'Imagine commuting to work from a different country every day!' Elliot smiles. 'That's so cool'

As we snuggle into the blankets Helen deftly rustles up a beachfire and invites us to bliss out as the sun puts on the most spectacular show, melting from hot gold to moody orange and then seeping across the sky, turning the clouds alternately pink and baby blue. Just when we think the maestro is going for a subtle fade-out, a blinding electric yellow streaks the vista and we gasp at the beauty and ingenuity.

'There's definitely a magic in the air here.' Helen inhales the last breath of suns.h.i.+ne then continues speaking, almost as if in a trance. 'I just feel so free, so happy for every little thing.'

The rest of us stare at her through the now misty darkness, as one by one she strikes at our Achilles' heels.

'I feel lighter, not just physically but in my heart. I feel loved, connected, part of the world. So peaceful and yet so energized. So hopeful ...'

There's a silence while we contemplate what it would be like to feel even one of those things wholeheartedly. The want in us is palpable. It's not just me and Sasha.

'So come on, Helen!' I beg, all out of patience. 'Tell us about The California Club!'

Elise shoots me a poisonous look but everyone else gives an encouraging, 'Yeah!'

She beams back at our expectant faces. 'Okay. But I'm going to ask you all to do one thing first.' Sitting up on her haunches she rummages in her rucksack, this time pulling out a little block of paper and a collection of biros.

'Are we playing some kind of game?' Elise sneers.

'No, I just need you all to write something down,' she explains, handing out a sheet of paper and a pen to each person. 'Ready?'

We nod, looking a little wary.

'I want each of you to write down what you'd most like to happen during your vacation here.'

'Vacation?' teases Elliot in his best Valley Girl voice, 'Holiday, whatever!' Helen dismisses his friendly carping.

'Do you mean like a list of activities?' I ask.

'Stick my hands in cement on Hollywood Boulevard, get discovered by a movie director, get it on with Josh Hartnett,' Zo offers.

'Well, you're halfway there but I'm not after a list. This is more of a wish. What would be the one thing that would make your holiday complete?'

'Get it on with Josh Harnett!' Zo affirms.

'Don't say it out loud, just write it down. No conferring and no more questions,' Helen sternly addresses our furrowed brows and open mouths.

Elise is the first to scribble, somewhat aggressively, on her page. Then Elliot, with a casual scrawl, obviously not fretting too much over his choice.

'Now what?' Elise asks impatiently.

'We just sit quietly until the others are done.' Helen takes their pieces of paper and then Zo's, closely followed by Sasha's reluctant offering.

'I think my wish might be a bit of a lost cause,' she frets.

'It doesn't matter,' Helen rea.s.sures her. 'Just as long as it's heartfelt.'

Now everyone is waiting for me.

This is obviously just some funny little quiz to amuse Helen but I don't want to miss out on the chance of having a wish come true. Just in case. But how can I write down what I really want for Elliot to realize that he loves me, not Elise! I already wished for it on the plane and I don't want to negate that, and besides, I have a feeling these are going to be read out loud at some juncture. What then? I look around me our furrowed brows and open mouths.

Elise is the first to scribble, somewhat aggressively, on her page. Then Elliot, with a casual scrawl, obviously not fretting too much over his choice.

'Now what?' Elise asks impatiently.

'We just sit quietly until the others are done.' Helen takes their pieces of paper and then Zo's, closely followed by Sasha's reluctant offering.

'I think my wish might be a bit of a lost cause,' she frets.

'It doesn't matter,' Helen rea.s.sures her. 'Just as long as it's heartfelt.'

Now everyone is waiting for me.

This is obviously just some funny little quiz to amuse Helen but I don't want to miss out on the chance of having a wish come true. Just in case. But how can I write down what I really want for Elliot to realize that he loves me, not Elise! I already wished for it on the plane and I don't want to negate that, and besides, I have a feeling these are going to be read out loud at some juncture. What then?

I look around me for inspiration. I'd love to swim in that glittering sea or cruise the coast in a convertible but that's hardly original. Aware of the others' eyes upon me, I dig my toes beneath the dusty sand to the cool damp beneath.

What do I want? Honestly? I'd be happy to stay around this fire for the next two weeks. Everything I need is here. I sneak a peek at the faces reflecting the flickering yellow light ... It's been so long since I had the chance to catch up with everyone, I feel swollen with fondness for them all. Well, nearly all. If Elise morphed into a giant toasting marshmallow life would be just about perfect. So how can I phrase 'spending quality time with my 'beloved friends' without sounding a cheeseball?

I take the pen, do my best to focus on the page and write, 'I wish I could have some special one-to-one time with each of my friends, enough to create a memory that would last a lifetime.' I can't believe I wrote that! Is that even a sentence? I'm just about to screw up the schmaltz and start again when Helen reaches over and swipes the page from me.

'All done!'

'But-' I protest.

'It's best to go with the first thing that pops into your head!'

'But, really, Helen!' I squirm, mortified. My first thought would be the Elliot love wish. Maybe I should've ... Oh no!

'Right!' Helen folds the pages and puts them back in her rucksack, zipping the bag closed with an air of ominous finality. 'Let's get you to the hotel.'

'Is that it?' Zo asks, as we all continue to eye Helen's rucksack, fearing for the future of our slips of paper.

'For now,' she smiles.

'Thank G.o.d!' Elise rolls her eyes. 'I thought we were going to be led in some weird pagan ceremony.'

'Don't be silly,' Helen laughs, getting to her feet. 'That's tomorrow.'

'What?' Elise blurts.

'But Helen!' I scamper to my feet. 'You still haven't told us about The California Club what is it?'

'Tomorrow,' she says, steadily.

Our five voices tangle in an exasperated squeal but frankly we're too tired to argue.

'Tomorrow, you promise?' I need some a.s.surance.

Helen nods. 'Trust me, it'll be worth the wait.'

Chapter 7.

Sunlight slides under the curtains and creeps up to my eyes. I smile realizing I'm waking up in one of the most enviable scenarios known to man in bed with Sasha.

There's a light guttural snoring coming from the foot of the bed, which is something of a relief as there was no sign of Zo when I turned out the light at midnight.

'I'm just going to grab a hot totty at the bar!' were her last words to us.

Sasha and I mused over whether she meant a 'hot toddy' but decided it was actually more likely that she'd spotted an appealing barman while we were checking in.

It was after dark when we presented our seasalt-frosted faces to the reception staff at La Valencia a baby-pink mission-style hacienda overlooking La Jolla cove and then left a trail of sandy footprints to our rooms, or better yet, villas. Elliot was particularly tickled that he and Elise were a.s.signed 'Ocean Villa Eleven' going some way to fulfilling his hankering to be a part of the Rat Pack. Zo, Sasha and I were in Ocean Villa Five. And in Fifteen, Goldie Hawn. I kid you not. At first we didn't believe Zo when she came screeching in from the balcony to inform us of our celebrity neighbor, but this time she was right.

Turns out La Valencia has been a Hollywood hideaway since the 1930s. In those days Zo might have been yelping that she'd just seen Greta Garbo or Charlie Chaplin reclining on their sunloungers. (Not that I can picture either of them getting busy with the coconut tanning oil.) Anyway, since then it's become such a beloved local inst.i.tution that most of the antiques in the public rooms have been donated by former patrons. I think it's lovely that they wanted to be a part of their favorite hotel.

I wish that one day I could've inspired that kind of devotion with the B&B how wonderful to know that every chaise or vase had a personal history rather than an Ikea price tag. Despite not having the same taste as my mum I have to acknowledge that she had chosen every item with love. So many of the other B&Bs in our square stopped at the bare minimum every item in the room provided a function or it wouldn't have a place. The rooms I love have treasures that are just there for pleasure. Those are the things that give a room a personality. Some people want bland, they don't want to engage with their environment and that's fine, but I like to walk in and get a sense of character. That way, even if you're alone, you feel like you're in wonderful company.

As I lean over to take a sip of water a thought strikes me it's almost as if Helen knows that I'm on the verge of giving up the B&B and she's trying to tempt me into keeping it by showing me all these sumptuous hotels: look at all the fabulous possibilities ... But she can't know. I haven't discussed it with anyone except Mum. I thought it would be best to make the decision first and tell them when it was a fait accompli. That way it wouldn't seem such a big deal just a case of 'it's done, accept it'. And yet it seems wrong to make a decision without consulting them - The Seaflower was like a second home to each of them at one point.

But maybe I'm overestimating how upset they'll be. The B&B hasn't been part of their lives for a while now. Sasha was the last person who came to stay and that was six months ago. They've moved on. Maybe it's time I did too. Maybe they'll think it's a good idea. Maybe it is! Yes, I've felt a flutter of five-star inspiration since arriving in the US, but I'm a.s.suming that we will be staying six of us to a motel room the rest of the week two nights at La Valencia must be totally skewing our accommodation budget. (When we quizzed her on the extravagance, Helen a.s.sured us that there's a reason why we should make the most of luxury now. Not that she'd tell us what that reason was. I just hope it doesn't involve camping.) Anyway, I'm not going to think about it any more. I came here for a break. I stare up at the white fir beamed ceiling and wiggle my toes beneath the 10 billion thread count sheets. If it wasn't for the chronic jet lag I'm sure I would have had one of the best night's sleep of my life.

As I pull myself up to a sitting position, eager to see this place in daylight, Sasha responds by snuggling deeper down. I'm relieved to find her looking so serene in repose. She seemed troubled and distant during the evening, but fell asleep as soon as her golden head hit the goose-down pillow. In the absence of Zo, I watched TV for a while and then sat out on the balcony in the dark, listening to the rustle of the palm trees and deep breathing of the sea, wondering what the next two weeks hold for us all.

It was so unexpected, being given a wish. I mean, I always thought if a genie wisped out of a lamp I'd ask for a million pounds, true love and an end to period pain but this wish was different. What would we most like to happen during our time here? If I had to guess, I'd say Zo's would involve s.e.x and a celebrity her two favorite things; Sasha, either surgery to reduce her attractiveness or maybe a surprise Prozac prescription; Elliot's dream would definitely be a theme park with no lines; Elise ... probably something simple like, 'Make Elliot's friends go away.'

I'd love to be a fly on the wall and see how she is with him when we're not around. Maybe she saves all her bristling for us and is sweetness and light when they're alone. I wonder what they're doing now? Lying in each other's arms, feeding each other chocolate-dipped strawberries, no doubt.