As I reach Whispering Pines, a haven promising four days of Winter Solstice calm, the snow has just begun to fall.

But I’m not here to hold yoga poses and breathe. I’m here to work. As a drowning single mother, my children’s Christmas depends on the money I’ve been promised.

As the weather worsens and guests stream in, I rush from kettle to cloakroom, pressing warm mugs into cold hands, and tucking blankets around shoulders. Then the door swings open on the last face I want to see–my ex-husband’s new girlfriend, Katina. We lock eyes, shocked, and silently agree to pretend we’re strangers.

The retreat gets underway, and our lines of separation are drawn. The women bask in the sauna and hot tub, drift through sound baths in the main yoga space, and expect perfection. I’m run ragged keeping it that way.

Outside, the snow thickens.

It turns out Katina and I aren’t the only ones bristling. Tensions ripple among staff and guests; small slights sour what should be pleasant meals, and whispered grudges taint the planned activities. The promised serenity is quickly becoming a pressure cooker. Then the unthinkable at a sanctuary like this becomes real.

A body is discovered.

With snow piled high, help can’t get in. Nor can anyone get out. We move the body out of sight and, unbelievably, carry on with the programme. Shocking, yes. Suspicious? Of course not.

Until a second body is found.

Panic tears through Whispering Pines. Accusations fly and fingers point in every direction–until they settle on one person.

Me.

And now, the only way out of this winter retreat is to survive it.