The Rabbit at Soho House Ibiza

"Do you see the girl lying to your right, about five meters away?" Carla asked me.

"What girl? That's a German athlete."

"Leonardo DiCaprio's ex-girlfriend!"

"Well, that guy - if he's not afraid to get horizontal with such bodies, it's no wonder he's conquered so many peaks in Hollywood." I laughed.

The sun was hammering down hard. It was May, but it felt like summer. Maybe on this island, that's just normal. Around the pool - the size of a volleyball court - beautiful creatures were sprawled on generous loungers topped with thick mattresses. Chill music drifted from behind, and in front of us stretched wide green fields with gently rolling hills, curled like a sheep's fleece. Yes, a person could easily weep in a setting like this and forget for a moment the transience of existence, I thought - just as a charming young woman dressed in white approached us.

"You know that each club member is allowed to bring just one guest to the pool loungers," she said to Carla's boyfriend. "Otherwise the manager could make trouble for me," she added, as if apologizing.

"Where is the manager?" Peter asked, with the tone of a man who owns the room. He was around 60, but his body was well-trained, and from his sun-bronzed face shone two bright blue eyes.

"Right now it's fine. I'm talking about the future," said the white beauty - and dissolved into the scenery.

To become a member of Soho House anywhere in the world, you had to apply. The condition: you had to be doing something creative. Top models, startup entrepreneurs, film producers, and artists were among the people you might run into. What united them was that they all had the cash to cover the monthly membership fee - not to mention if they wanted to sleep in one of the hotel rooms. In the Ibiza bungalows, I heard, the price was around a grand a night.

They'd built the place in the middle of the island, so you could reach it from any direction in half an hour. It prided itself on growing the produce it cooked with. On the winding road leading up to it, I could spot neatly tended gardens bursting with lettuce and vegetables, and rows of grapevines catching the afternoon light. The menu made a point of mentioning that even the chickens - whose meat you could enjoy alongside a fresh salad - were grazing somewhere nearby in the surrounding fields.I couldn't spot any of them, but I could see some rabbits playing carefree on the meadows below. Which felt, in retrospect, like information I could have done without.

Next to DiCaprio's ex, her new lover had arrived - at least ten years younger than her, and half her weight. He had long black hair and was wearing a Metallica t-shirt. On my left, a group of young English ladies were biting into burgers, and one of them was smiling at me with a playful look. In the pool, a woman with silver hair was swimming slow laps. A gentle sense of immortality was spreading through my chest - when I heard Carla shriek:

"Oh no! Please, someone help him!"

I looked in the direction she was pointing and saw a large grey cat with a black collar around its neck, holding something small in its mouth. At first I thought it was a mouse, but it quickly became clear it was a baby rabbit. It was still trying to free itself, but the cat had it firmly by the neck, and the ending was visible.

"Do something!" Carla turned to Peter.

He stepped to about a meter from the cat - but had no intention of intervening. He simply observed the final moments of the rabbit's life with a kind of cold existential curiosity that only a German man could master so perfectly.

The pool, the music, the swimming woman and the English girls all continued completely undisturbed. Only the rabbit seemed to have a problem.

Instinctively I reached for my flip-flop. If I throw it at the cat, it might drop the rabbit and I could save its life, I thought. Then I glanced over at the beautiful people on the surrounding loungers, watching the whole scene the way they watch entertainment that comes included in the membership fee. If I hurl the flip-flop and startle the cat, I might save the rabbit - but I risked getting thrown out of the club for an act of vandalism against their beloved house pet. So I better let it be.

DiCaprio's ex was already deep in the tongue of her young lover while the rabbit was quietly surrendering its soul to God.