Love Overboard

Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

It was a misty morning, but Sofia had the urge to go up on deck. It was still early, and she couldn’t hear the telltale groans from the crew’s neighbouring bunk beds, so she figured she was the first one up. Growing up near the beach, Sofia had always loved to be in the midst of a morning fog. It was like standing in the sky and the sea at the same time.

She made herself a terrible instant coffee and headed upstairs. All around the light was the colour of dried lavender, mauve frosted with grey. She took a deep breath and leant forward against the railings.

She closed her eyes, losing herself for a moment in the tingle of sea spray and absolute solitude. Or so she thought. In the quiet of the morning, she heard footsteps before she saw the figure emerge from the mist.

‘Oh sorry.’ It was Jack, dressed in green tartan pyjama bottoms and a heavy fleece that made him look boyish. ‘I didn’t think there would be anyone up here. You know it’s, like, 5a.m.?’

It was amazing how quickly her serenity evaporated. ‘Yes, thanks for that information. I can tell the time.’

‘How can you possibly be this bad-tempered already? What is it you Brits say... “woke up on the wrong side of the bed, did you”?’

‘That phony British accent is somehow extra grating before the sun has fully risen.’ She was already nostalgic for her moment of peace only minutes before.

Jack was scrutinising her face quizzically. ‘I just don’t know what I’ve done to upset you.’

‘It’s not personal, don’t worry. I’ve just met, and worked with, men like you before, and I know what to expect.’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘And what exactly do you mean by “men like me”?’

‘Rich white men who have fallen into jobs thanks to their parents’ connections, who think that they can have, and discard, whatever they want.’ Sofia felt she’d said too much, and once again she was even more angry with him for making her lose her cool.

‘Listen, honey.’ Coming from him the word ‘honey’ sounded jarring. His tone was hard, and she could see the anger mirrored back towards her. ‘I don’t know who broke your heart, but in this world you can’t go around making that everyone else’s problem. You have no idea who I am, and actually I think I’d like to keep it that way.’ He stopped for breath. ‘I believe, as per our agreement, the deck is my territory anyway, so if you’d kindly find your way back to your bunker kitchen, that’d be much appreciated.’

He gave her a cold smile, did a little bow, and held out his arm to motion for her to pass by him. She stormed across the deck, thundered down the stairs and collapsed back into her bunk, full of righteous anger. When it had passed, she replayed the scene in her head. On second viewing, she realised she had behaved like a petulant teenager. In keeping with the mood, she screamed into her pillow, took ten deep breaths, and decided to try and get up on the right side of the bed.

Sofia busied herself with breakfast, first for the crew, and then brunch for Milly and Brian. They had requested a ‘lie-in’ and she liked to imagine them lounging together in the absurdly big marble bathtub she’d glimpsed through a door left ajar. She made scrambled eggs and salmon on rye bread served with a scoop of black caviar.

As the plates made their way upstairs, Sofia was already prepping for their afternoon snack and thinking about the dinner menu. It was only her second day at sea and she found herself already looking forward to their stop-off in Capri, where she would get a day off from cooking. Work at the restaurant had been hard, but she’d had regular time off, and backup. Right now, she was immersed in her own little bubble, flitting around the small kitchen to find that hours had passed.

At four o’clock she enlisted Declan to help set up an elaborate afternoon tea in the horizon lounge, on the upper deck of the yacht. She had gone all out. Tiers of cucumber, crab, egg and cress sandwiches, cheese scones, sweet scones, pots of cream and jam, and jewel-toned macarons. Milly and Brian were in the corner of the room. They had barely noticed Sofia and Declan come in. Sofia wondered how long it had taken for them to become people who were accustomed to being around ‘staff’. Only two years ago they had been relatively normal. She, a paralegal from Ramsey, and he, a mid-tier footballer from Bournemouth. Now they were lounging on a 154-foot yacht as a private chef and a deckhand laid out an extravagant, ‘afternoon snack’ that had taken several hours to prepare.

Milly was wearing her hair back in a tight bun, and when she finally looked up and saw Sofia, she squealed. ‘Hey! Sofia, look, you inspired me.’ She turned her head to the side and motioned to her updo.

‘Looks, um, very nice.’ Sofia was embarrassed by the interaction – maybe they weren’t so clued up on the VIP-staff dynamic after all. Sofia had been under the impression that she would be expected to serve and smile, not provide style tips.

When Brian looked up, his eyes went straight to the food. ‘Oh great, finally – I could eat a horse.’

Finally,Sofia thought, was a bit of an exaggeration. They had only eaten brunch at midday. As Brian made his way through the first tier of finger sandwiches, Declan poured out two glasses of champagne and brought one over to Milly. She downed the glass without looking up from her phone.

‘Another please...’ She looked up and smiled at him.

‘D-Declan,’ he stumbled, tripping a little over his own feet as he backed away.

‘Thanks, Declan.’

Over by the bar he fumbled with the bottle. Sofia went over, taking it from his nervous grip. She poured another glass.

‘She’s very pretty huh,’ Sofia said, teasing him. He looked down, embarrassed, and she immediately felt bad.

‘It’s not like that. I don’t... it’s just I’ve never, like, seen anyone from TV in real life before.’ They were speaking in hushed tones, but Sofia was sure that Milly understood exactly what effect she had on people.

‘Anyway...’ Declan looked directly at Sofia. ‘She’s not my type.’

It occurred to her then that Declan might have misconstrued her friendliness for something more. She thought about admitting that she saw him more as a little brother and then she thought better of it. It would be enough to give the poor boy a complex, at his age. She knew you had to be delicate about rejection. Instead she decided to do the proper British thing and sweep it under the carpet, feigning ignorance.

‘She’s everyone’s type, Declan,’ she garbled, busying herself and looking away. ‘And anyway, you’ve got more pressing things to think about than pretty girls. I’m sure you’ll be needed back up on deck as soon as you’re done here.’ She couldn’t look at him, so she didn’t see the pang of disappointment cross his face.

‘Yes, Chef! Let me know if you need any help clearing.’ He walked off and she went over to hand Milly her glass.

‘Just bring the whole bottle over, would you, hon?’

Sofia obliged, thinking back on the days that she too would polish off a bottle of wine in a single sitting. She sometimes missed the numb warmth of it and then she would remember how the world took on a cooler edge afterwards. Walking back to the kitchen, she took the scenic route around the deck, marvelling at how bright the world looked these days.