The Undomestic Goddess

But then everyone probably feels like that. It’s normal.

“Your skin’s very dehydrated.” Maya is shaking her head. She runs an expert hand across my cheek and rests her fingers underneath my jaw, looking concerned. “Your heart rate’s very high. That’s not healthy. Are you feeling particularly tense?”

“Work’s pretty busy at the moment.” I shrug. “It’s just a blip. I’m fine.” Can we get on with it?

“Well.” Maya gets up. She presses a button set in the wall and gentle pan-pipe music fills the air. “All I can say is, you’ve come to the right place, Samantha. Our aim here is to de-stress, revitalize, and detoxify.”

“Lovely,” I say, only half listening. I’ve just remembered that I never got back to David Elldridge about the Ukrainian oil contract. I meant to call him yesterday. Shit.

“Our aim is to provide a haven of tranquility, away from all your day-to-day worries.” Maya presses another button in the wall, and the light dims to a muted glow. “Before we start,” she says softly, “do you have any questions?”

“Actually, I do.” I lean forward.

“Good!” She beams. “Are you curious about today’s treatments, or is it something more general?”

“Could I possibly send a quick e-mail?”

Maya’s smile freezes on her face.

“Just quickly,” I add. “It won’t take two secs—”

“Samantha, Samantha …” Maya shakes her head. “You’re here to relax. To take a moment for yourself. Not to send e-mails. E-mail’s an obsession! An addiction! As evil as alcohol. Or caffeine.”

For goodness sake, I’m not obsessed. I mean, that’s ridiculous. I check my e-mails about once every … thirty seconds, maybe.

The thing is, a lot can change in thirty seconds.

“And besides, Samantha,” Maya goes on. “Do you see a computer in this room?”

“No,” I reply, obediently looking around the dim little room, at posters of yoga positions and a wind chime and a row of crystals arranged on the windowsill.

“This is why we ask that you leave all electronic equipment in the safe. No mobile phones are permitted. No little computers.” Maya spreads her arms. “This is a retreat. An escape from the world.”

“Right.” I nod meekly.

Now is probably not the time to reveal that I have a BlackBerry hidden in my paper knickers.

“So, let’s begin.” Maya smiles. “Lie down, please, under a towel. And remove your watch.”

“I need my watch!”

“Another addiction.” She tsks reprovingly. “You don’t need to know the time while you’re here.”

She turns away, and with reluctance I take off my watch. Then, a little awkwardly, I arrange myself on the massage table, trying to avoid squashing my precious BlackBerry.

I did see the rule about no electronic equipment. And I did surrender my Dictaphone. But three hours without a BlackBerry? I mean, what if something came up at the office? What if there was an emergency?

If they really wanted people to relax, they would let them keep their BlackBerrys and mobile phones, not confiscate them.

Anyway, she’ll never see it under my towel.

“I’m going to begin with a relaxing foot rub,” says Maya, and I feel her smoothing some kind of lotion over my feet. “Try to clear your mind.”

I stare dutifully up at the ceiling. Clear mind. My mind is as clear as a transparent … glass …

What am I going to do about Elldridge? He’ll be waiting for a response. What if he tells the other partners I was lax? What if it affects my chances of partnership?

I feel a clench of alarm. Now is not the time to leave anything to chance.

“Try to let go of all your thoughts.…” Maya is chanting. “Feel the release of tension.…”

Maybe I could send him a very quick e-mail.

Surreptitiously I reach down and feel the hard corner of my BlackBerry. Gradually I inch it out of my paper knickers. Maya is still massaging my feet, totally oblivious.

“Your body is growing heavy … your mind should be emptying …”

I edge the BlackBerry up onto my chest until I can just see the screen underneath the towel. Thank goodness this room is so dim. Trying to keep my movements to a minimum, I furtively start typing an e-mail with one hand.

“Relaax …” Maya is saying in soothing tones. “Imagine you’re walking along a beach …”

“Uh-huh …” I murmur.

David, I’m typing. Re ZFN Oil contract. I read through amendments. Feel our response should be