Chapter 9
9
‘You’ve all been fantastic,’ Xander tells us when we all line up on deck to say goodbye.
‘I’ve had the best birthday.
’
The three men hug all of us and seem to have individual thank yous for everyone.
After Harry hugs me, he presses the tarot pack into my hands.
‘I feel strongly that this should be with you.’
‘Oh no –’ I start to say, but he squeezes my hands with both of his.
‘Don’t argue. And you don’t have to use it if you’re not comfy.
But maybe turn a card every now and then and see what you think.
’
I’ve teared up again and he laughs and hugs me again.
And then they leave.
‘Eighteen hundred euros each,’ Captain Liz tells us in the salon once we’ve all changed out of our whites.
I look over at Adam who’s already looking at me, his face split into a wide grin.
Eighteen hundred euros is about ￡1,500, I think.
Pretty much every job I had at uni paid minimum wage and I’ve never earned that much money in one go before.
Nowhere near. And in only three days.
It’s unbelievable.
‘You all did a great job,’ the captain tells us.
‘Obviously with it being the first charter, there were some hiccups but I’m confident we can get them ironed out and the next charter will be even better.
’ She stands. ‘So! Enjoy yourselves. Enjoy the money. And don’t spend it all at once!
’
I’m sitting next to Berry who bumps me with her shoulder.
‘See? I told you you could do it.’
I smile at her.
‘You did.’
And I did do it.
But the past three days have been the most exhausting of my life.
Worse than when Alfie was a baby and barely slept and so none of us slept – I hallucinated rabbits hopping on my bed and tripped over what turned out to be my own shadow, hit my face on the door and gave myself a fat lip.
Worse than the first couple of months at uni when we were out every night and sleeping on friends’ floors in halls and I once fell asleep on the train and woke up in Chester with a chicken leg in my bra.
‘Can I have a word?’ Louise says, and my stomach lurches.
Am I in trouble?
‘Did you put chocolate milk in the fridge in Harry’s cabin?
’ she asks me, which is not at all what I expected her to say.
‘Oh! Yes. Sorry, was I not supposed to?’
She smiles.
‘No, he was delighted. He said you must have overheard him? Well, he said maybe you’re psychic, but that it’s more likely that you overheard him.
’
‘I did,’ I tell Louise now.
‘They were talking about cocktails while I was clearing up after dinner service. He said he hadn’t had chocolate milk for years and missed it, so I went down to the galley and found some.
Carlo said it was okay for me to take .
. . ?’
‘That’s absolutely fine.
It’s exactly that kind of small detail that makes a big difference for guests.
And I love that you took that initiative.
’
‘Okay. Great. Thank you for telling me.’
‘You’re doing really well,’ she says warmly.
I find Adam sitting up on the sun deck, looking down at his phone.
I sit next to him and he puts his phone away.
‘You okay?’
I nod.
‘I can’t believe the tip.
Like, I knew it was going to be a lot, but .
. .’
I’m sending ￡500 to Mum and putting the rest into savings, since we don’t have to pay for anything here.
‘I was hoping for a bit more,’ he says.
‘They were all so friendly and had a great time.’
I snort.
‘I think fifteen hundred is plenty.’
He shrugs.
‘I know. I’m just being greedy.
’
‘How’s it going, Ad?
’ I ask him. ‘Are you enjoying it?’
He slumps a little.
‘I don’t know. I keep fucking up.
I got a bollocking from Ben about the radio cos I left it in my bunk.
And then I keep keying the mic.
’
If you press the microphone button on your radio, no one else can get through.
Louise told us on the first day how important it is that the radios are always clear.
‘Ben gave me this big dramatic spiel about how it could literally be life and death. Like, I get it. But I’m not doing it on purpose.
I don’t even know I’m doing it.
’
‘You’ll get used to it,’ I tell him.
‘Sounds like you’re doing great.
’ He nudges against me.
I smile. ‘I’m enjoying it.
I’m knackered though.
’
He shakes his head.
‘Never been so tired in my life.’
No one has the energy to go out that evening, so Carlo makes pizzas and we eat them with wine, all of us together on the deck as the sun goes down.
‘So how was your first charter?’ Liam asks me, as I cradle my wine and try to keep my eyes open.
‘Exhausting.’
‘Everyone did great,’ Louise says from across the table.
‘Like Captain Liz said, there’s a few things we need to pick up on and talk about, but they can wait.
’
‘Oh, you don’t want to do it now?
’ Nico says, teasing her.
‘A Louise bollocking could really lift the mood.’
‘Not a bollocking,’ Louise says.
‘Well, maybe for you.’
‘Promises, promises,’ Nico says.
Louise rolls her eyes, but the corners of her mouth are twitching.
‘How’s the seasickness?
’ Ben asks Adam. ‘I notice you wolfed down that pizza.’
‘I’ve never been so hungry in my life.
But yeah. I dunno if it’s the pills or these things .
. .’ Adam holds up his hands to show the seasickness bands.
‘But something worked.’
‘Not the ginger?’ Carlo asks.
‘I think I puked the ginger right up,’ Adam tells him.
‘Sorry about that.’
Carlo shakes his head, sadly.
Presumably thinking about the waste of an ingredient.
‘I was sick as a dog when I started,’ Liam says.
‘Thought I was gonna have to quit. And then one day it just stopped.’ He shrugs.
‘Now I feel a bit sick on land.’
‘That’s called Stockholm syndrome,’ Nico tells him.
Everyone is sitting around happily talking, laughing, vaping, and it’s lovely, but my eyes are closing.
Even the short journey back to my cabin feels like too much effort.
I consider sleeping on the sofa or even putting my head down on the table.
‘Come on,’ Berry says, standing and reaching for my arm.
‘Let’s go. You’re falling asleep.
Big day tomorrow!’
I notice Adam half get out of his seat, before dropping back down again.
‘You okay?’ he mouths at me and I nod.
I will be. I just need to sleep for twenty-four to forty-eight hours and I’ll be fine.
Although I can’t, because tomorrow we’re all going out for the day.
Apparently between charters everyone wants to go out and do things, rather than just sleep.
It makes sense, but also .
. . ugh.
‘We need to clean up,’ I say and a couple of people boo me.
‘Don’t worry,’ Louise says.
‘We can do that.’
‘Speak for yourself,’ Nico says, but I know he’s joking.
‘Go on,’ he adds to me.
‘We’ll sort it. You look absolutely done in.
’
I feel guilty because I know that everyone worked hard and everyone’s knackered, but I let Berry guide me through the salon.
She lets go of me so we can both go downstairs and I stagger slightly – I didn’t realise I’d been leaning on her so heavily.
‘Thank you,’ I tell her at the bottom of the stairs.
‘Sorry I’m so pathetic.
’
‘You’re not pathetic.
’ She smiles at me, her eyes bright.
How are her eyes so bright?
Mine feel like they’re going to fall out of my head and roll across the floor like in a cartoon.
‘You’re just exhausted,’ Berry says.
‘Let’s get you to bed.
’
‘This is better than staying in bed, right?’ Berry asks me, the following morning.
I smile. ‘It’s incredible.
’
We’re at Formentor beach, where golden sand curves around deep turquoise water.
Yachts bob in the distance.
We’re far from the only people here, but it’s not at all busy.
A few people are swimming and sunbathing, but it’s quiet and tranquil.
We pay to rent sunbeds shaded by wide straw parasols and everyone immediately strips off, stashing their bags.
I fasten the strap of my bag to the parasol, pull off my T-shirt dress and kick off my flip-flops, before following everyone into the water.
The sand is hot underfoot, the sea almost as warm as a bath.
Berry ducks right under, swimming even in the shallows and appearing a short distance away, laughing as she shakes the sea from her hair.
She’s wearing a red bikini, her hair held back with a red scarf.
Adam swims over to me, splashing like a golden retriever.
‘How cool is this?’
‘It’s a lot warmer than the last time we were in the sea together.
’
He fakes a shudder.
‘Don’t remind me.’
Last year, Adam’s nan signed everyone up for the annual Boxing Day swim in the Irish Sea.
We all shivered together on the beach and then plunged in, squealing and gasping, the temperature of the water taking our breath away.
Some clambered out straight away – including Adam’s nan, who’d only ever intended to splash and not swim, but Adam and I swam, considering it good practice for our future water-based career plans.
‘It was fun,’ I tell him now.
His hand glides up my side under the water and I remember how we showered together when we got back to his place, because everyone else went to get food.
The hot water on our chilled skin.
His mouth between my shoulder blades as he pressed me up against the tiles.
I want to step closer and push up against him now, lick the droplets of salt water running over his collarbones.
His eyes are dark as he looks down at me, my mouth, lower.
He hooks his fingers into the side of my bikini.
‘Pretty sure you’re not meant to do that,’ Berry says, popping up alongside us.
‘We weren’t!’ I say instantly, but then notice she’s not even looking at Adam and me, but over towards a stone jetty.
I follow her eye-line and see Liam backflip off into the water, then hear Nico hooting as he follows suit.
They swim the short distance to the steps, climb out and do it again.
‘I’m just gonna . . .
’Adam says, before splashing away to join them.
I roll my eyes.
‘Idiots,’ Berry says, without malice.
‘How awesome is this?’ She opens her arms wide, water dripping off her fingertips.
I duck down to my shoulders, shivering as the water runs over my hot skin, and slowly turn in a circle.
The creamy yellow of the sand, the deep green of the trees behind the beach, the light brown of the mountains beyond, the blue and green glitter of the water, a small white sailing boat in the distance tethered to a bobbing bright red buoy.
‘It’s perfect,’ I agree.
Berry and I swim out to the buoy together and hold on either side, squinting into the distance, trying to see the people on the yacht.
A couple sits on the bow, their feet dangling, and there’s music playing that I’m sure I know, but can’t quite place.
‘Is that Hall & Oates?’ Berry says, tipping her head to one side and closing one eye.
‘It is!’ She grins at me.
‘Talk about yacht rock.’
‘What’s that?
’ I ask, pushing myself away from the buoy and then pulling back in again.
‘Yacht rock or Hall & Oates?’
‘Both, I think?’
‘I bet you’d know Hall & Oates if you heard some songs.
“She’s Gone”? “You Make My Dreams”?
“Maneater”?’
‘I think I know “Maneater”. . .’
‘“Private Eyes”! You must know that one.’
She sings a bit – she’s got a nice voice – and it sounds vaguely familiar.
‘My dad’s a big fan.
All yacht rock actually.
He’s the whitest man alive.
’
‘So yacht rock is . . . rock you listen to on yachts?’ I laugh because that is patently ridiculous.
Berry laughs too. ‘I think so? Sort of. It’s soft rock and I think maybe people used to listen to it on bay cruises in California?
Or it just has that vibe?
You know, the sun’s going down, everyone’s got a drink in their hand, probably some weed going on .
. .’ She closes her eyes, turns her face up to the sun.
‘I think it’s just .
. . evocative. You know?
R & B by and for white people.
’
‘Who else is yacht rock?’ I push myself off the buoy and tread water.
‘The Doobie Brothers.’ She mimes smoking up.
‘Kenny Loggins. My dad has seen him on tour so many times. Steely Dan, obviously.’
‘Obviously,’ I echo, even though I have no idea who Steely Dan is.
Or are.
‘Supertramp! You know Supertramp, right? They’re British.
’
I shake my head.
‘Never heard of them.’
‘Come on!’ She starts singing another song, something about breakfast. I think it’s vaguely familiar.
Maybe. Or I just want her to think I know what she’s talking about.
‘I’ll make you a playlist,’ she tells me.
She pushes herself back off the buoy, floating on her back, before flipping over and saying, ‘Race you!’
She’s a much faster swimmer than me.
Strong like Adam, but she glides through the water rather than churning it up like he does.
She doesn’t beat me by too much though, and she high-fives me as I straighten up next to her, closer to the beach, my feet sinking into the sand.
‘They’re still at it, look.
’ She points at the jetty and we’re just in time to see a small dinghy pull up and a couple of lifeguards talking to and gesturing at Adam, Nico and Liam.
‘Uh-oh,’ Berry says.
‘They’re in trouble.
Pretty sure there’s a sign saying no jumping.
’
We watch, the warm water eddying around us, as the boys talk to the officials and then walk back down the jetty to the beach.
Liam and Nico head over to the sunbeds, while Adam comes to join us in the water.
‘Get told off?’ I ask him.
‘Threatened with a thousand-euro fine!’ He’s caught the sun.
His nose and forehead are bright pink.
‘We’re going to go and get some food.
You want in?’
We sit outside the restaurant – up on a bluff overlooking the jetty the boys were jumping from – with ham and cheese baguettes, iced coffees and beers.
Nico yanks open a bunch of different packets of crisps, shards flying everywhere, and tiny brown birds swoop over to collect them, getting braver and closer until they’re perched on the edge of the table.
‘The guy was telling me some Spanish dude broke his nose jumping off that,’ Nico says, gesturing at the jetty.
‘They were going to put railings up but they think people will just stand on the railings and make it even more dangerous.’
A couple walks over, stopping to stare out to sea, blocking our view.
They look to be in their seventies.
The woman is wearing a hot pink bikini and the man is in a yellow thong, his entire arse on show.
‘I’ve never jumped in the water, ever,’ I say, to distract us all from staring at the man’s buttocks.
‘I’ve always been too nervous.
’
‘Oh my god, you have to!’ Berry says, reaching for a crisp.
‘Not here, that’s ridiculous.
’ She raises an eyebrow at the boys.
‘But off the boat. It’s so fun.
’
‘Maybe,’ I tell her.
‘But doesn’t the water go all up your nose?
’
‘Not if you blow out as you hit the water. But you can just hold your nose. It’s allowed.
’
I eat my baguette and drink my coffee as Adam tells them about our Boxing Day swim and they ask questions about the Mersey and the Irish Sea and where one becomes the other.
I watch one of the birds approach an open packet of crisps, taking a few little steps before retreating, getting a tiny bit closer every time.
I take my phone out to film and manage to catch the moment he plucks up the courage, grabs a whole crisp and flies away.
The kids will love that.
‘You okay there, birdwatcher?’ Nico says.
‘Just getting something to send to my brothers and sisters,’ I tell him.
And then spend the next few minutes telling everyone about my many siblings.
Nico has a sister he clearly adores but who is currently travelling around Australia.
Berry’s an only child and so is Liam.
Adam has one older brother who lives in London and works for a music production company, and his younger brother, Ollie, who’s still at home.
‘That reminds me,’ Berry says.
‘Hope’s never heard of yacht rock!
’
‘What’s yacht rock?
’ Adam asks.
‘Thank you!’ I say.
‘I think I’ve heard of it, but I dunno what it is,’ Liam says.
Berry explains it to them and Nico says, ‘Oh yeah . . .’ He adopts a stoned-sounding American accent: ‘The smooth sounds of Simon & Garfunkel . . .’
While Berry and Nico discuss whether or not Simon & Garfunkel are actually yacht rock, I send the video to Mum to show to the kids.
Mum texts back almost immediately.
Cute! Where are you now?
I take a few photos – of the jetty, the beach, my coffee – and then the boys pose together, Berry throwing herself into the photo at the last second.
The resulting picture is hilarious.
Nico grinning widely from behind his sunglasses.
Liam’s face almost a blur because he turned to look at Berry.
Adam laughing, mouth wide open.
And Berry in focus but clearly in motion, laughing too.
I love it. Being here with Adam like this makes the secrecy, the work, the exhaustion worth it.