I hear the blonde woman whine loudly about her hair again.
‘I’m thinking that visiting the salon before hitting the pool isn’t quite working out for her,’ Ellis notes. ‘Or maybe Richie pinky promised that he wouldn’t splash her and is now being a backtracking dick.’
I snort. Ellis doesn’t sound like a captain. Well, at least not the current captain who does the morning announcement that I don’t quite understand. I’m pretty certain Captain Montgomery doesn’t call passengers on board backtracking dicks either.
The rest of the conversation with Ellis is short but enjoyable. He finishes his drink then takes himself into the pool, while I return to my book. I wait for him to leave the pool before I get in and bob around, avoiding Richie in case he splashes me too. I don’t want to be circling Ellis like a shark, making conversation while he’s trying to relax or just nodding politely every time we wade past one another. The water feels amazing, though, and I manage to grab one of the stone beds beside hairdo girl. If Richie splashes me, I’ll drown him.
Chapter 25
Two hours later, my sticky self gets into the shower. While my hair wasn’t ruined by Richie, the humidity has caused a halo of sweaty frizz that needs addressing. The shampoo and conditioner smell marginally better than the bodywash but I still use my own. Drying my hair takes longer than I expected, even giving myself extra time. I swear I’d be quicker standing on the balcony and letting the sun dry it if it wasn’t for the fact that I’ll come back inside smelling like forty Benson and Hedges.
I check my phone. There are two messages from Naomi. One with a picture of a cat stealing an egg and another with a gif fromJaws. There’s also an email.
To:Sophie Smalls
Re:Hello!
Dear Sophie,
Alex here, fitness coach and someone who rarely* receives such high praise. (*never.) It’s always reassuring that someone out there is reading my articles. Sorry I didn’t reply sooner, you appear to have been sent to spam along with my Audible highlights of the week and that ‘Free Ninja Airfryer’ mysterious reward that has been expiring soon for the past four months.
I’m glad my article inspired you. I hope things go well! I know it’s daunting so feel free to get in touch if you need any advice. Or just to boost my ego again. Really interested to see how you get on.
Alex Steward
He seems really nice! I’m surprised he replied and also a tad nervous that now I possibly have to be accountable for my actions, but this is helpful. I now have another source of encouragement, one who won’t send me gifs of Roy Scheider at sea, saying you’re going to need a bigger boat.
By 6 p.m. I’m down at the restaurant, waiting in the queue. I feel underdressed. Everyone here has made an effort, while I’m wearing some sliders, denim shorts and a vest top which, on closer inspection, has seen better days. I feel annoyed with myself. I have so many beautiful clothes and yet I chose to throw on sun clothes that I haven’t worn in far too long.
As I progress further up the queue, I notice a sign beside the menu board.
Please arrive on time for your chosen sitting.
No shorts, flip-flops, beach clothes, sportswear or baseball caps.
My underdressed arse gets back to my room at record speed.
I had no idea that you had to be smart and fancy for dinner. I’m glad I saw that notice, instead of rocking up in my flip-flops, only to be turned away and forced to do the shabbily dressed walk of shame. My sitting isn’t until 7 p.m., so I have just enough time for a quick turnaround.
As I’m changing into my peach maxi dress, my phone rings. I answer on speaker.
‘Hi, Naomi,’ I say, pulling my dress over my head. ‘Yes, I got your messages but I’m kind of busy right now getting ready for dinner.’
‘Oh nice, just checking in.’
I fumble with the straps. ‘I spoke to you this morning!’
‘Unimportant,’ she replies. ‘A lot can happen in eight hours. What are you wearing for dinner?’
‘My peach maxi dress,’ I tell her, smoothing it down in front of the mirror. ‘Hmm. . . flats or heels?’
‘For dinner, heels. For swanning around on the boat deck, flats. Have you made any new friends then?’
I grab my white strappy sandals from the wardrobe. ‘Nah, not really. People are nice, though. I’m dining at a mixed table tonight. Should be interesting. Oh, Alex Steward emailed me back!’
‘Who?’
‘The guy who wrote the dating article. Says I should keep in touch. Let him know how I’m getting on.’
