Page 24 of Below the Deck

She took a few quiet, steady breaths and tried to get a sense of the expression on her therapist’s face, or the words she’d say. Things like:You can cope with your own pain. And:If you focus on what’s in front of you today, nothing can overwhelm you. Or:You’re doing really well.

These words were comforting; Lucy breathed more easily. As her chest began to relax, she let the grief and the pain settle into something else: grim, furious determination. She had come on this bonus trip for a reason – and she wouldn’t leave here without getting what she needed. Her search yesterday in the master stateroom had been interrupted before she could get far enough, but she still had a couple of days left. She could try to find another moment to sneak back in there today, unnoticed this time …

‘Morning.’ Mark was awake; the light from her phone must have disturbed him. He was a light sleeper too – the pair of them often grumbling to each other in the morning about who was more tired than who, like some kind of depressing competition.

Lucy put her phone down and turned to look at him. He was bleary-eyed and pale.

‘I feel rough as a monkey’s arse.’ He moved closer to her, wrapped his arms around her waist. She fought the urge to pull away.Just let him. It’ll make things easier.

‘It’s badger. Rough as a badger’s arse.’

Mark groaned. ‘Whatever.’ He studied her for a moment. ‘I know you’ve been feeling seasick, but you’re all right, aren’t you? This is the trip of a lifetime,’ he said. ‘Honestly, Luce, I still keep pinching myself that we’re here. We should be having the time of our lives, and you seem a bit … dunno. Flat?’

Lucy swallowed. ‘I’m having a great time,’ she said. ‘It’s lovely. Apart from the nausea.’

Mark edged his face closer towards Lucy’s, pulled her towards him, and moved in for a kiss. She jerked her face away – but not before she caught the flash of hurt in his expression.

‘Sorry,’ she said flatly.

He sighed, leaning back on his pillow. ‘For God’s sake. Am I not allowed to show you some affection – here, on our own, in bed, on the most amazing holiday we’ve ever had?’

‘Of course you are. It’s just … I haven’t slept,’ she said, her eyes darting away from him and up to the ceiling.

‘Okay,’ said Mark, staring at the ceiling. ‘You’re tired, I understand that. But don’t be weird with me for getting excited about spending some time together, just the two of us. It’s not often I get you to myself, especially these last few months. I feel like I’ve barely even seen you …’

Lucy wanted to respond with the sarcastic retort on the tip of her tongue –Well, maybe you should get out more then?– but then thought better of it. Now wasn’t the time. There were things to clear up, and she wouldn’t get answers by antagonizing him. Instead, she shut him off with: ‘Why did you do it?’

The question bubbled up from somewhere deep in her chest and came blurting out of her mouth, catching her off guard, before she could do anything to stop it.

Mark turned back to face her. ‘Eh? Do what?’

‘Rory. Last night. Why were you yelling at him – why were you right up in his face?’

Mark cupped his palms over his eyes. ‘Oh – that. Lucy, I feel like shit. I’ve not drunk that much for years. Can we talk about this later, please?’

‘No.’ Lucy wasn’t relenting. ‘We are talking about itnow.’

He sighed heavily. ‘There’s nothing to talk about, Luce. I just drank too many cocktails. It’s not a big deal – the conversation got out of hand.’

‘Buthowdid it get out of hand? Why were you even talking to him one-on-one in the first place?’

‘Jesus, I can’t even remember – it’s all a big blur, to be honest. He made some dickhead comment about journalists, I think. Thank fuck you dragged me away when you did before I made an even bigger tit of myself.’

Lucy sighed. ‘Well, quite.’

‘I’m sorry – I genuinely don’t know how it spiralled that badly,’ he went on. ‘I promise, I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I’d never want to do that.’

Lucy nodded; she appreciated the apology. But it wasn’t the embarrassment that was bothering her. It was that she’d heard snippets of what Mark had said – and it definitelywasn’tto do with Rory’s opinions about journalists.

‘All right,’ she said. ‘But what about disappearing in the middle of the night, then? Where did you go, for nearly half an hour, at half one in the morning?’

Mark frowned. ‘What? I didn’t go anywhere.’

Lucy exhaled sharply. ‘Yes, you did. I woke up and you weren’t here. You didn’t come back for another twenty minutes.’

Mark screwed his face up in concentration. ‘Oh. Hang on … I just remembered. I think I went to get something to eat,’ he said. ‘I was starving, and the booze was all sloshing about in my stomach. I’ve got vague memories of going into the galley and asking one of the stewardesses for a toastie …’

Lucy snorted, despite her gnawing unease. ‘Well, I suppose that does sound like something you’d do.’