Page 57 of In the Same Boat

‘It’s truly stunning,’ Mum replies.

‘This is Port Hercule,’ Hank tells us, tour-guide mode firmly activated. ‘The famous harbour – you know, Grand Prix goes right through here… if you’re into that sort of thing.’

As cool as that sounds in theory, I’m not into that sort of thing – although I’m sure I’d prefer it to double-dating with my mum.

‘Does it really?’ Mum asks, delighted.

She’s not into that sort of thing either.

‘Oh yes,’ he replies. ‘You’ll have to come, for the next one, it completely transforms the place.’

Mum nods enthusiastically, but her smile fades off as she notices me giving her a look that says: I am not coming back here.

I look over at Nico to see him shooting his dad a similar glare. It’s the one thing we have in common.

‘Let’s head this way,’ Hank continues, pointing along the waterfront.

We stroll along the marina with Hank telling us everything about everything – I suppose we have no way of knowing how accurate his information is.

Mum eats it up nonetheless. Nico saunters a few paces behind us, presumably distancing himself from us, but it does feel ever so slightly like being herded. Like he’s there to make sure I can’t run off.

He seems quiet. At first, I assume he’s bored – he’s been here countless times before – but then I start to think it’s something else. Discomfort. Embarrassment, maybe. He isn’t rolling his eyes or doing that sulky thing men do when they want everyone to know they’re above participating. It’s more subtle than that.

We pass the casino – ornate, grand, almost theatrical. Outside, cars idle with engines that sound angrily expensive. It’s all making me feel a bit like I’m in a James Bond movie. I’m terrible at gambling, so I don’t know what else I would do but drink and hope a handsome man asks me to blow on his dice, but part of me wants to go in. Not that they’d let me in dressed like this, of course.

‘Do you gamble?’ Mum asks Hank.

‘Sometimes,’ Hank replies.

Nico sniggers, like he might have some insider info on that one.

‘Don’t get me wrong, it’s a tax on the rich and the silly,’ Hank insists. ‘But fun… sometimes.’

‘We’re not the gambling type, are we, Dad?’ Nico says firmly, like his dad is no stranger to risking it all.

I wonder if that’s how Hank got so rich. It doesn’t sound like the best strategy, but one big win can set you up for life, right? So long as you don’t feed your winnings back into the machine, I suppose.

Hank narrows his eyes for half a second, then turns his attention back to Mum.

‘Anyway, lunch is booked just along here. Lovely place. You’ll love it.’

We follow his lead to the sort of place that I know I can’t afford before I’ve even seen the menu.

It sits slightly raised from the marina. Outside is lined with cream parasols, white tablecloths and a view directly over the water. The sort of place where even the staff outfits look designer. There are olive trees in huge pots providing privacy between the outdoor tables, which I like.

The name – La Sirène Bleue – is written in elegant letters above the entrance. Large golden doors that look like they weigh a ton.

A woman at the host desk smiles as she greets us – so at least I know my crop top isn’t being turned away.

‘Hello,’ Hank says, setting out his stall, that this exchange is happening in English.

‘Hello. Do you have a reservation?’ she asks.

‘Hank Martin,’ he replies, with the relaxed confidence of a man who comes here often. ‘Table for four.’

The woman checks the list. Then checks again. A tiny crease appears between her eyebrows and that’s when I realise, as cool as she’s playing it, that something is up.

‘I’m sorry, monsieur,’ she says eventually. ‘We have the booking, but it seems there has been a small mix-up. We have two tables for two, not one table for four.’