Page 37 of In the Same Boat

Nico places the bags down on the table.

‘Hmm, yeah, well, I need to make a call, so I’ll be in my cabin,’ Nico tells us all, and with that he’s gone.

Oh boy. So neither of our parents told us that the other would be here. Nico genuinely has no idea what he has walked into either. They’ve misled us both. I can understand why he’s angry because I’m fuming too.

‘Lovely to see you again, Nico,’ Mum calls after him.

‘You too, Chrissy,’ he says politely.

I smile, just a little, because it’s nice to see his manners kick in on autopilot, even though he’s sulking.

‘I’ll put these away, don’t worry,’ his dad calls after him. ‘I’ll get this champagne chilling ASAP – we’ve got a lot to drink to.’

‘Our two families coming together for a holiday,’ Mum says, her smile beaming.

That’s all well and good, but they could have at least told all members of the family – so that we could have said no.

‘Well,’ Hank says, rubbing his hands together. ‘Shall we continue the tour?’

‘Shall we, Sammie?’ Mum asks.

She gives me a hopeful look, and I hate that it works. Because she does look happy. Nervous too, underneath it all, perhaps only in a way that I can see, but happy nonetheless. And I may be annoyed, with an overwhelming desire to snatch Hank’s captain’s hat and throw it overboard, but I am not completely cruel.

So I smile, nod and brace myself.

‘Lead the way,’ I say.

Once we’re out on deck, I have to admit it, theCarpe Diemis impressive. Polished railings pinging the sunlight in all directions, more cream cushions that look oh-so inviting, Monte Carlo standing tall on one side of us, the open sea at the other. And then there’s everything else, all the other yachts, the stunning marina. Would I have come here, if Mum had told me what I was coming to? Absolutely not. Now that I’m here, am I tempted to stay regardless? Yes, well, when else am I going to get the chance to not only come here, but to stay on a yacht?

‘This is the aft deck,’ Hank tells us. ‘The part towards the stern – that’s the back, to laypeople. And that’s the bow up there.’

Hank struggles to contain his enthusiasm as he walks us around. You can tell that he loves his yacht very much – maybe even more than he loves his son, given that he got him here without telling him there would be other guests.

Then he takes us back inside.

‘Now, quick safety bit,’ Hank says, clapping once, loudly.

‘Now the fun starts, eh?’ I joke.

‘Best bit of the tour,’ he promises. ‘Pay close attention.’

He shows us where the life jackets are, then the fire extinguishers, then a radio, which he pats like the family dog. Every instruction comes with a joke so corny it could only be uttered by a dad. Mum thinks he’s hilarious. Me… not so much.

‘The first safety rule is: don’t fall overboard,’ he explains. ‘But, if you do, make sure you had sense to put the life jacket on first.’

Incredibly helpful – wow.

Mum laughs again. She is enjoying this far too much.

Next Hank opens a compartment and shows us flares, lined up neatly in bright red packaging.

‘Emergency flares,’ he says. ‘Hopefully we won’t need them, so unless we get in a spot of bother, or someone has too much to drink…’

Drinking one of the bottles of champagne, then signalling for someone to get me the hell out of here, does sound tempting.

‘And this,’ he says, lifting out the flare gun as though it were a pistol loaded with real bullets, ‘is not a toy. Only use it in an emergency… or if the champagne runs out.’

Mum laughs again. Surely she’s just doing it to be polite, because I’m not getting it at all.