Page 47 of In the Same Boat

It’s irritating how quickly he’s found the exact angle to annoy me.

The second course arrives before I can storm off and it looks good enough for me to stay. Pan-seared sea bass with lemon butter, tiny roasted potatoes and a green vegetable arrangement that looks like it was plated with tweezers. The fish flakes apart perfectly, the potatoes are crisp and the lemon butter is so good I wonder if it’s a faux pas to lick a plate on a yacht. Probably, right?

‘He’s very good at his job,’ Hank continues.

And we’re back to that.

‘So you basically game all day?’ I ask, matching his earlier tone as closely as possible. ‘For work?’

‘Yes,’ he says simply.

No shame, no defence, no justifications – just a yes.

‘Right,’ I say. ‘Must be exhausting…’

Hank looks between us, amused.

‘It’s more complicated than that,’ Hank replies.

‘Is it?’ I ask.

‘Yes,’ Hank says.

‘No,’ Nico says at the same time.

Mum laughs softly into her wine.

‘He’s being modest,’ Hank insists.

Nico gives him a look.

‘I’m really not.’

‘I believe Nico,’ I can’t resist chiming in.

He shoots me a look.

‘You two,’ Mum says, in the exact voice she used when I was twelve and arguing with a cousin over Monopoly, ‘play nicely.’

I turn to her.

‘He started it,’ I insist, not realising how that sounds.

‘I didn’t start anything,’ he replies.

‘All right, kids, that’s enough,’ Hank says firmly. ‘Can we just enjoy a nice dinner, please? We’re supposed to be on holiday…’

It’s quite bizarre how he utters the words like he’s said them a thousand times before, like he’s my dad, like Nico and I are his bickering children. He even referred to us as ‘kids’ – so weird.

I look across at Nico – he’s already looking at me and, for one deeply unsettling second, we are united entirely by our mutual horror at the situation.

That said, as twisted as it sounds, there’s something almost comforting about it, which is alarming because I do not wish to feel cosy in this configuration. For a minute it feels like being a part of a family – but we are absolutely not a family, nor will we ever be. We can’t be.

Dessert is a chocolate fondant with raspberry sorbet – ten out of ten, no notes. The only thing I can complain about is the company.

‘To good company,’ Hank says, raising his glass.

‘I’ll clink to that,’ Mum replies.