Page 135 of So, I Met This Guy . . .

‘The honour is all mine,’ she smiled, crossing her fingers under the table that she wouldn’t be called upon to recount her latest leading story and its headline. WARNING TO HIKERS – EWE BE CAREFUL! ‘I’m sure our readers will be fascinated to read about life on the ocean waves and what really goes on on a cruise ship.’

‘Well, we’ve certainly got some stories.’

There were a few titters around the table.

‘But nothing we’d want to see in print,’ quipped one of the officers.

‘What happens at sea, stays at sea,’ chimed in another guest and there was a round of laughter around the table.

‘How many passengers do you have on board?’ asked Maggie.

‘Four thousand guests and one thousand, six hundred and fifty-seven crew.’

‘So that’s almost six thousand people,’ said Flick, quickly doing the arithmetic.

Flick and Maggie glanced at each other across the table. They’d both been assuming finding their man was a done deal now they were on board, but unexpectedly doubt flickered.

‘Oh, yes, you can be on board and not see the same people twice,’ nodded a woman with blonde hair swirled on top of her head, like soft-serve vanilla ice cream. ‘I’m forever losing my husband.’

‘Are you sure that’s not on purpose?’ joked the husband.

There was more laughter.

‘We have the app so we can track each other,’ said Liv brightly. ‘It’s really useful if we’re doing different activities.’

‘That’s how I got caught gambling away their inheritance in the casino,’ chuckled Valentine.

‘You have a casino?’ Flick’s interest was suddenly caught.

‘Oh, yes, we have everything here,’ nodded one of the officers. ‘A casino, spa, gymnasium, cinema, a dozen restaurants and bars . . .’

‘. . . a chapel, a morgue,’ finished another.

‘You have a morgue!’ exclaimed the woman with the soft-serve hair, clasping her hands to her chest.

‘Over my dead body,’ quipped her husband. He was quite the comedian.

There was a brief pause in conversation as the waiters served the starter, a delicious take on the traditional prawn cocktail, with plump ripe prawns drizzled in a delicate sauce. Not that either Flick or Maggie had much of an appetite – they were too busy trying to scan the other tables in the restaurant, both thinking the same thing. He was on the ship, but where?

‘We also have a jail on board,’ said the captain between mouthfuls. ‘It’s what we call the brig.’

‘A prison?’ Maggie shot a look at Flick.

‘Of sorts, yes. It’s more of a holding cell until we get into a port.’

‘It’s a shortened version of the nautical term “brigantine”,’ explained the first officer, jovially. ‘Which is a two-masted sailing vessel that was often later used to imprison criminals.’

But for once Flick wasn’t interested in etymology.

‘So you’ve arrested people?’

‘Well, I haven’t personally,’ said the captain, looking amused by the line of questioning. ‘I have a whole security team to do that. Many of which are trained ex-service men.’

‘Better not break the law then,’ chortled Mr Comedian.

‘What if someone was wanted by the police in the UK for a previous crime?’ asked Maggie.

‘Like a murderer on the run?’ gasped Liv.