Ken was studying the day’s itinerary, half-moon glasses perched on his nose. ‘Yeah, he can’t get enough of it. Got muscles like the Statue of David! He’s in there now, in’t he, Jayde?’

I noticed the woman who’d got into the lift behind them, holding a sleeping baby and gripping the hand of a young boy in a dinosaur onesie picking Smarties from a tiny box. Jayde had black skin, a sparkling, Beyoncé-esque smile, and she wore what I would have worn as Holiday Mum – grey bandeau maxi dress that waterfalled where it didn’t cling. She was fucking stunning but I couldn’t help staring at the baby in her arms, whose chubby cheek she was stroking. Jayde was everything I wanted to be and everything I wasn’t.

‘Who’s this then?’ I said, desperate to seem like the least freaked-out woman around children ever, gesturing towards the baby in her arms.

‘This is Sansa and Tyrion,’ she replied, scruffling the Smartie boy’s hair.

‘Pleased to meetcha,’ I said, wincing at my own shite accent. ‘Game of Thrones fan, are ya?’

Jayde rolled her eyes. ‘Not me, my husband.’

In that parallel universe, there was me saying, ‘Mine too! Craig watches it all the time. Fancies that redhead bird married to the Jonas brother.’ I’d be nursing our infant daughter and bemoaning my hella predictable spouse and we’d have compared tit milk or something. As it was, the only thing I was nursing was the prize for Worst Australian Accent Ever.

Ty shook his empty Smarties box. ‘Grandad said I’m being a little shit.’

‘Nice,’ I laughed. The lift took an arrogantly long time, collecting people on all different floors, but eventually stopping at Deck 16 and the Caravel Breakfast Room. The buffet was already at full steam ahead.

‘You coming, luvvie?’ said Ken, stepping out.

‘Oh, I wasn’t going to breakfast. I’ve had a protein shake instead. Toning up,’ I said, patting my sucked-in belly. ‘I was heading down to the gangway.’

‘You won’t be able to disembark yet, love,’ said Gloria taking Ty by the hand. ‘Might as well get some proper scran inside you. Or steal a couple of croissants at least to have during the day. It’s all free.’

‘Pre-paid,’ laughed Ken, jingling his change in his trouser pockets.

‘Why can’t I disembark?’

‘They’ve got to get the OK from the port authority to get people off and even then it’ll be the excursions first. Are you on an excursion today?’

‘Er, no.’

‘You’ll spend hours in’t assembly point queue if you go now.’

Ugh, I thought. Fuck My Fake Life.

‘Best stay with us, Harriet,’ said Ken. ‘We’ll show you what’s what.’

They couldn’t even get my fake name right. ‘It’s Hilary,’ I said. People don’t fucking listen, do they?