TALIA #2
‘But I’ve been looking forward to this charter,’ she went on. ‘You’re not the Lusso’s usual crowd. I get a lot of hedge fund types, footballers, the uber-rich. But a property development team on your bonus trip?’ She smiled. ‘You’re a touch more down-to-earth.’
‘We do try,’ Sam said.
‘And, Captain, have you ever had to deal with any tricky situations on board?’ Talia asked, curious now. ‘Any … I don’t know, accidents, or things going wrong?’
Captain Taylor laughed. ‘Well, there’s never a dull moment on a superyacht.’ She paused to take a sip of wine. ‘Of course, there have been a few accidents among my crew over the years – nothing serious, thankfully – a few near misses from swinging fenders, things like that.’
‘And what’s it like to work in the industry?’ asked Talia. ‘You must be in the minority as a female captain, I assume?’
‘Yes, we’re a rare breed. And it’s tough at times.
There’s still a lot of good old-fashioned sexism in the maritime world.
It’s my young female crew members who get the worst of it – from people in the industry, but also on board.
’ The captain stopped abruptly – perhaps she felt she’d said too much – and pushed back her chair.
‘Anyway,’ she said, ‘this has been wonderful. I’ll leave you all to your desserts and cocktails – enjoy the rest of your evening. ’
Before the group could respond, Captain Taylor gave Michaela a brisk nod and strode off towards the stairs to the bridge.
After a sweet coconut mousse, it was time for so-called Polynesian Puzzles – a pub quiz-style game Rory had asked the crew to put together for their first night. Michaela handed out Lusso di Mare branded notepads and pens to everyone as they got ready to play.
Talia took a deep breath and tried not to keep glancing across the table.
She’d stuck to one cocktail over dinner, but everyone else – except perhaps Lucy, who was still sipping tonic water – must have sunk three or four.
It was getting louder, rowdier, by the minute.
It was making her nervous. Who knew what people might say, after a few too many? Who knew what they’d do?
‘I’m going for a bathroom break,’ Talia excused herself.
No one responded; leaving her bag hanging over the back of her chair, she turned and walked slowly to the nearest toilets, inside the salon.
Alone in the privacy of the bathroom, she closed the lid to the loo, sat and let her head drop into her palms. She took deep, steadying breaths; she needed to halt her tears before they started.
How am I going to do this? It’s only the first night and I’m breaking down … She blew her nose, dabbed at her eyes with the tissue, and took a few more deep breaths.
Come on. No one can see me like this. Appearances were everything, after all; they were what mattered.
She knew that; it had been drummed into her skull since she was a girl.
Keep your emotions tucked inside; never let anyone know how you truly feel.
As long as you look all right, you’ll be all right.
Steeling herself, she flushed the loo, used a damp tissue to tidy her make-up in the mirror and headed back to the table. Hoots of laughter and groans of ‘No one’s going to know that except Rory!’ met her ears before she was halfway there. They’d started without her, then.
‘Talia!’ shouted Rory, as she took her seat back at the table. ‘Oh Christ, I didn’t think you were joining in, and now we’ve organized our teams – three on each side, with Michaela reading out the questions …’
Thank God. I can get away. ‘Oh, that’s a shame. But don’t worry – I’m exhausted from the journey anyway. I’ll leave you all to it and head to bed.’
‘If you’re sure, darling?’ said Rory.
‘Absolutely.’
Sensing eyes on her from across the table, and now keener than ever to make her escape, Talia picked her bag up from her chair, swung it over her shoulder and headed downstairs to the master stateroom.
With the door closed behind her, she was overcome with relief so strongly she almost wept again.
One of the stewardesses must have been in here while she was at dinner: the bed was turned down ready for sleep, the pillows were plumped and the cabin’s surfaces looked freshly polished.
Even the slightly garish golden ornament on the desk near the window – a yacht-shaped sculpture with a long, pointed sail – had an extra sheen now.
She sighed and walked over to the dressing table, placed her bag down next to her and rifled through the side pockets for her phone. There it was – untouched, safe and sound.
As she pulled it out, something white in the main compartment of her bag caught her eye.
A scrap of paper, folded up. She was sure she’d taken all the rubbish out when she’d unpacked earlier – she didn’t like any mess in her bag; it was always neat and tidy.
Just a small pouch with her compact and a few pieces of make-up, her sunglasses and her phone.
She must have missed a ticket or receipt or something.
She picked up the piece of paper, was about to throw it in the bin, when she noticed it wasn’t a receipt or a ticket. It wasn’t anything she had put in there herself. It was from the Lusso di Mare notepad – she could see the gold emblem through the fold.
Did someone drop one of their answers to the quiz in my bag by mistake?
Curious now, Talia unfolded the note, took in the sentence scribbled on it, and watched it fall to the floor as both her hands moved instinctively to cover her mouth.
This was nothing to do with the quiz.
This was no accident – the paper hadn’t ended up in her bag by mistake.
This was a message addressed to her – it had the letter T at the top – and beneath it, in a hurried scrawl:
Get away from him before it’s too late.