‘I’m a nurse, Dieter is an accountant. This food is delicious. We cruise every year, but this has to be the best tomato and basil soup I’ve had.’
‘Are we ready for your main course?’ Marco asks, taking away some empty plates. He gets to Isla, who hasn’t touched a thing. ‘You don’t like?’ he asks. Isla shakes her head. ‘I don’t eat cheese.’
‘Ah, you just want to take the photos, I understand.’ I can tell he’s dealt with this before. ‘Maybe next time you give your friends the plate to enjoy, and we don’t waste.’
Isla frowns while the rest of us quietly snigger. He has a point. Pretty sure someone at the table wouldn’t have let that cheese go to waste. Or a passing mouse.
‘Rude,’ I hear her mumble as she gets back to her phone.
‘What is it you do?’ Cameron enquires, once again trying to engage her in conversation.
‘Social media,’ she replies. From her accent, I’m guessing south of England. ‘I promote brands, create content, that kind of thing.’
‘Interesting,’ I say, as our main meals are brought to the table. ‘I work with a lot of influencers.’
‘Yeah?’ she replies, still engrossed in her phone. Again, she starts to photograph her herb-crusted salmon. ‘Like who? Anyone I’d have heard of?’
‘Oh, you know, like Carla Summers, Paloma Bright, Karl Manson, Jade Farrell—’
‘You know Jade Farrell?’ I have her attention now. Jade has 18.2 million followers on Instagram and is an absolute sweetheart. Karl Manson has five million and is a total arsehole.
‘I do,’ I reply. ‘She’s great. Very personable.’ I’m talking like we’re besties, which isn’t strictly true. I don’t know herthatwell. I’ve worked with Jade twice, a few years before she became mega successful, but it’s a name drop we use for potential clients, and it works. What I do know is that Jade doesn’t behave like a brat and she eats her food.
‘We should exchange information,’ she says, ‘I’m sure we could work together at some point. Are you on Insta? Mine is @islaMann2002.’
‘Your insta name is Isle of Man?’
‘No,’ she replies, looking confused. ‘Isla. Mann. 2002. My surname is Mann.’
I hear those nails hitting the touchscreen on her phone again. ‘I don’t use Instagram for work, but I’ll have a look at your socials and let you know.’
She’d probably have been perfect for the Flirt First campaign, but I doubt I’d hire her for anything else.
‘So, Isla, are you cruising alone?’ Mia takes over the conversation. I think she can see the light draining from my eyes.
‘God, no, I’m not that sad. My boyfriend Richie’s having a spa treatment. He’s intermittent fasting, so he stops eating at six p.m.’
‘Cruising alone is not sad,’ Lucas informs her, glancing at me. ‘Plenty of people do it. Being independent is not sad. Enjoying life is not sad.’
She’s still reading her phone. I continue eating my steak, noticing that once again, Isla hasn’t touched her food. There’s a perfectly good salmon fillet just going to waste. If anything, that’s what’s sad.
She doesn’t hang around for dessert, instead muttering that it was nice to meet everyone and no doubt nipping back to check that Richie hasn’t missed any hair on his chest waxing or accidentally eaten outside his fasting hours.
Dinner has been surprisingly nice. Any reservations I had about sharing a meal with a bunch of strangers have been well and truly quashed. Whether Lucas was trying to make me feel better or not, his words were especially comforting.Enjoying life is not sad.I think I might have forgotten that at some point. I’ve been so closed off to everything without even realising. Work. Home. Occasional chats with Naomi. But now that I’m here, I’m starting to feel glad that I’ve come on this cruise. I might not have met my person yet, but between Ellis and my dining companions, I’ve met some really fun, decent people. Except Isla. Isla can piss off.
Back in my cabin, I manage to sit on my balcony for a total of six minutes before the smoke makes me retreat inside. I could go exploring but my energy is rapidly waning. Maybe it just takes a while to acclimatise to not being in bed by 10 p.m. every evening, with a K-drama and bark-proof, noise-cancelling headphones. I turn on the television, hoping to relax and catch up onThe Gloryonly to discover that there is no Netflix. In fact, there are no movie apps, only generic news programmes and a kids’ channel with deranged-looking farm animals. No option to cast or share my phone screen either. What is this? 1987? I close my phone and catch myself sulking momentarily before snapping out of it.
You didn’t pay all this money to watchThe Glory, regardless of how good it is. Behave yourself, Smalls. I bet if Alex Steward went on a cruise, he wouldn’t be—
I hold that thought. Alex Steward. I still haven’t replied to him. I should absolutely reply to him.
To:Alex Steward
RE:Hello!
Dear Alex,
Thanks for your reply! I wasn’t expecting it. I have to say that thus far, it has been dire. I’ve tried everything from speed dating, to apps, a games night and even tango classes. I’ve been told I hate animals and have man hands (I do not, hers were just disturbingly small) and discovered that I cannot play ping-pong to save my life.
