Chapter 28
Back on the ship by 4.30 p.m. and the first thing I do is wash the remaining sand out of my toes and any other crevice it might have crept into. What a beautiful day. What a beautiful beach. Right now, in London, I’d be stuck at my desk, up to my eyeballs in paperwork, rolling my eyes at Rupert while wondering what to eat for dinner when I get home. That in itself is worth a little sand in my crack.
I flick through the photos I’ve taken today. They don’t do the beach justice but it’s enough to send to Naomi. I wish I’d asked Grandma to take a photo of me there. I’d name it ‘brave at the beach’ and send it to Alex Steward.
I send two pretty much identical photos to Naomi:Beach today, Hairspray tonight!It doesn’t take long before my phone rings.
‘Hairspray. Again? Sophie, how many times have you seenHairspraylive?’
Naomi’s exasperated expression stares back at me over video chat. Her hair looks nice today. I’ll never not be envious of someone whose hair stays shiny all day and doesn’t explode in their sleep.
‘Twice,’ I reply, indignantly. ‘That’s hardly excessive.’
‘And including the movie?’
‘About three hundred.’
‘Exactly,’ she replies, propping her phone up on the kitchen table. ‘Hairsprayisn’t going anywhere. It’ll be full of families and weird couples. Get out and mingle. What about that priest guy you met at the pool? He might be there. If he looks like you’ve described, you should absolutely mingle the shit out of him.’
‘What priest?’ I hear Philip shuffling around behind her phone. ‘Hey, Sophie!’
‘Hi, Philip!’
‘He’s not an actual priest,’ Naomi tells him. ‘That show,Evil? He looks like the guy.’
‘Ah. That guy. Say no more.’
‘He won’t even be there,’ I inform them. ‘I doubt he’s even single.’
‘You never know.’
‘Did you notice a ring?’
‘A ring? Well, no, but I wasn’t looking.’
‘Sophie, you have eyes for a reason.’
She has a point. While not everyone in a committed relationship is married, it might help narrow down those outwardly unavailable.
‘What are you making?’ I ask, watching her chop onions without flinching. It’s impressive. This woman is a hard arse.
‘It’s fajita night. Again,’ she informs me. ‘I’m sick of bloody fajitas but the boys like them. Sometimes I think that life would be easier if I didn’t know how to cook but then we’d all die from eating Philip’s pink chicken.’
‘One time!’ I hear Philip yell in the background. ‘You know the oven wasn’t working properly.’
‘Anyway,’ Naomi continues, ignoring his protests. ‘Get glam. Show off that non-existent tan you got at the beach today.’
‘Hmm, well, there is a mixer tonight,’ I say tentatively. ‘I guess I could swing by after dinner?’
‘Attagirl,’ she replies. ‘Now, go forth and conquer.’
I’m the first to arrive for dinner. I momentarily panic that I’ll be the only one at my table, pathetically ingesting bread rolls while I stare at my phone. Thankfully, everyone joins me before our waiter Marco is forced to usher me off to the table for women who look like they’ve been stood up on a first date. The board outside tells me it’s French night tonight. I’m excited. My only foray into French cuisine thus far has been pastries and the occasional croque monsieur from the restaurant near my office. Sometimes Kieran gets the croque madame. It’s a good time.
‘Well, isn’t Sardinia just breathtaking?’ Lucas says, as he pulls out his chair. ‘Cameron and I went to Porto Cervo and sipped vino in the Piazzetta. Cameron was convinced he saw Silvio Berlusconi.’
‘I did,’ Cameron insists. ‘He was right there.’
‘He’s dead, sweetheart,’ Lucas replies. ‘Though that Roberto Cavalli boutique is exquisite enough to bring anyone back to life. Or kill them, depending on their bank balance.’
