Chapter 41
‘Sophie, just the woman I was looking for.’
Mia, her black hair perfectly smoothed into a high ponytail, finds me, buffet plate in hand, returning to my table with my second breakfast of the morning. Pancakes, bacon and maple syrup. I’ve never been happier.
Mia sits down beside me and peers down at my plate. I’m not sure if she’s hungry or just judging my food choices. Probably both.
‘Have you eaten yet?’ I ask, opening the little tub of syrup. ‘These are really good.’
‘We ate at seven a.m.,’ she replies. ‘Just after our run.’
After their run? Jesus, what time did they start? The question of who the hell would use the running track on the fifth deck has been answered.
‘Dieter and I are doing the Seilrutsche this morning and I thought you might like to join us.’
‘The zeilr . . . um, I don’t know what that is.’
‘Sorry, the zipline. It’s on the top of the ship. It’s fun, you know. Exciting. Dieter enjoys it very much.’
I raise an eyebrow. Dieter? Dieter enjoys zipping through the air hanging on to bicycle handlebars. Dieter with his accounts job and his neatly pressed T-shirts. I’m a tad taken aback. He doesn’t look like an adrenaline junkie, and neither does Mia. It’s always the quiet ones.
I try my best not to look uneasy as I cut into my pancakes. Ziplining? I’d rather climb Mount Everest in stilettos, thanks all the same, Mia.
‘I appreciate the invite, but I don’t think so. It’s a bit adventurous for me. And, well, dangerous.’
‘No, you will enjoy,’ she insists, ignoring my concerns. ‘It’s very safe. You should do things that scare you. It makes you feel alive.’
Seriously? Is everyone determined to drag me out of my comfort bubble? Say no, Sophie. Say no, say no, say—
‘Sure, why not.’
Oh, for fuck’s sake, Sophie.
She grins. ‘Gut. It’s on the top deck. See you at eleven o’clock, yes?’
She turns and marches off towards the exit. Pretty certain I see her pocket a blueberry muffin on the way out. This couple are full of surprises.
Breakfast over, I return to my room to change into something more suitable for ziplining than my current attire. The last thing I need is my skirt around my ears while I fly through the air. Shorts and a long T-shirt seem more appropriate.
To: Sophie Smalls
RE: Hello!
Hi,
It took me roughly eight months to meet Corrine, but I understand how frustrating it is. I had four months to go and would have packed it in was I still in the same position.
Good news on the room. Your space comment made me laugh. In fact, all your emails make me laugh. I’m very happy you’re sharing this with me.
I’m not an expert on dating by any stretch of the imagination but I get the feeling that if Ellis was more open to dating, you might see him in a different light. However, no point wasting time on someone who’s not in the same place as you.
I like how eating cheese and popcorn fights seem to be the highlight of your day. They would also be the highlight of mine.
Alex
No further mention of my half-witted email. I’m relieved.
Saying yes and broadening my dating horizons is one thing.
Ziplining across a ten-deck cruise ship towards possible death is quite another.
I know the whole point of this is to venture into unknown territory but does ziplining increase my chances of meeting someone?
The only person I’m likely to meet is a paramedic after I have a fucking heart attack.
It seems that not everyone has the same fears.
It’s like a line of sunkissed lemmings. The queue is already long when Mia, Dieter and I get in line.
They’re dressed in matching blue shorts and striped vests (quite sweet really) while I have some black frayed shorts and a white T-shirt with Debbie Harry’s slightly faded face on the front.
Mia and Dieter look like they’re on their way to Disneyland while I look like I’ve escaped from the London Dungeon.
I bought this T-shirt in Spitalfields Market, and I refuse to give it up.
To my left I see the entrance to the big red tube waterslide which twists and winds all the way down to the main pool below.
Reckless thrill-seekers of all ages, eagerly awaiting their turn.
I think I might be the only person here who doesn’t want to throw themselves off a ledge or into a pitch-black watery pipe.
Despite the fact the whole razor blades stuck between the joint of a waterslide story is just an urban legend, there’s still a huge part of my brain yelling, BUT WHAT IF IT’S TRUE?
Still, I’d take my chances with that before I’d willingly dangle eighty-two feet above the decks below.
Twenty minutes and much hand-wringing later, I watch both Mia and Dieter eagerly get strapped into the harness and, without a gun to their heads, each of them jumping freely from the edge of the platform.
No hesitation, no ‘yikes’ face, just enthusiasm.
I think I even hear Mia say ‘whee!’ as she glides across.
I wonder for a moment if she still has that muffin in her pocket.
I carefully count how long it takes them to reach the other side.
Ten seconds. That’s not too bad. Not as great as no seconds but better than more than ten, I suppose.
When it’s my turn, I can feel my legs turn to jelly.
The zipline guy, Harvey, is very friendly, asking me if it’s my first time.
He reassures me that it’s not as bad as it looks, even though it looks horrendous.
He would say that, though. He’s hardly going to be screaming, ‘RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!’, not if he wants to keep his job.
I just smile weakly at Harvey, knowing that the moment I start speaking, my lip will wobble and I’ll begin to cry.
No one needs to see that. I need to man up.
If Dieter and Mia, the two most sensible people on this cruise, can do this without breaking a sweat, so can I.
I refuse to be the big baby bitch at the dinner table tonight while they throw me pitying looks from their smug, we’re not scared of anything faces.
Deep breath. I can either give myself last rites or dramatically flee down the waterslide. I choose to stay.
Standing at the edge of the platform, my heart is pounding, and my hands are sweaty.
I rub them on my shorts, hoping perspiration won’t be the catalyst to my embarrassing demise.
Fuck, I’m terrified. I feel sick. I feel like I might lose control of my bladder and piss my pants over the passengers below.
My last moments on earth, a whirlwind of flailing legs, urination and shrieking, all performed with a harness wedged up my arse.
Ten seconds, I remind myself. Ten seconds and it’ll be over.
Why the fuck did I agree to this? I hate heights. Did that roller-coaster at Thorpe Park teach me nothing? How does any of this bring me closer to meeting someone other than my maker?
‘Ready?’ Harvey asks. I’m so scared I want to punch him.
I nod, grip the handlebar and close my eyes. ‘Ready.’
With a tiniest push from Harvey, my feet are no longer resting on the platform and my stomach is no longer resting comfortably in my abdomen. My underwear is also no longer situated outside of my arse crack. A wedgie, 150ft above the sea. I’m never listening to Mia again.