‘I’m from Brizzie,’ I said, trying out my best Australian accent when he asked me where I was from.

‘Brizzie?’ he replied.

‘Brisbane, Straya?’ I said, and his gaze lingered a mite too long. I couldn’t tell if it was a Christ what a terrible Australian accent gaze or if he’d seen me on a news bulletin.

But then he said, ‘Well, have a nice day, Hilary from Brizzie.’ And he winked at me. A definite fuck wink.

He was built like Anthony Joshua and ordinarily, I’d have invested in some shameless flirting, but on this occasion there were no gussy flutters to speak of. My piles were throbbing and I’d had a terrible night’s sleep. When I had managed to lose myself I’d dreamt about Ivy as a tiny pink butterfly I couldn’t catch.

I walked with my head permanently tilted through the corridors, going over my new identity in my mind in the best Aussie accent I could muster.

Hilary Sharp, pleased to meet ya. I’m a ditsy, gym-obsessed clean-living Australian gal born on a sheep farm in Coober Pedy in South Straya. My folks are Moira and Alf Stewart, my brothers are Chris and Liam and I love surfing and barbies and we have a pet kookaburra called Chook…

I didn’t even believe me. I just had to get to Bobby and everything would be all right.

But as the lift doors opened on Deck 7, I bumped straight into the couple I’d spoken to when I first came aboard – Ken and Gloria Prosser from Yorkshire. I’d even had my photo taken with them on the gangway. I had hoped that the sheer size of the ship and the number of passengers meant I almost certainly wouldn’t come across them again.

Clearly, Fate had other plans.

‘Oh hello, petal!’ shrieked Gloria, tottering into the lift towards me in her white-and-gold strappies. ‘We thought you’d gone overboard!’

‘I’ve… been in the gym, mainly,’ I said, phasing in the Aussie accent and affecting my most angelic Bindi Irwin smile. ‘Toning myself up so I can load up on the old carbos.’ I was thankful for the sunlight streaming in which meant I could reasonably put on my sunglasses to hide my lying bitch eyes.

‘Frightened your husband will have gone off you?’ Gloria chuckled.

It was only then I remembered what I’d told them – that I was meeting my husband in Madeira. I couldn’t even recall if I’d given him a name.

‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘He works out a lot too. We’re both real gym… kangaroos.’

‘You’d get on with our Ryan,’ she said, rolling her eyes as they stepped into the lift beside me. ‘Our son lives in the gym, don’t he, Ken?’