‘Hold tight. Keep yer head down. I can’t say how long it’ll take and that’s if I do find anything. My dad weren’t the most reliable man in the world but he never usually let his mates down. I know some of his associates. I’ll see what’s what but don’t hold yer breath, all right?’

I can’t even remember saying ‘thank you’ as Dannielle shoved the rest of the phones back in the desk drawer and escorted me outside. Back through Reception. Back towards the ship. Back towards inevitable capture.

I stared at the phone – an iPhone 4 with a cracked screen – and started the long walk back down the hill to the town, finding a small square halfway, thriving with stalls and boutiques.

I sat on a vacant bench beneath a tree, shaking all over, despite the heat. I gripped the phone hard. At this point I guessed my only option was to hope Dannielle would come through.

There was a few grand left over from my inheritance that Keston had wired to an offshore account, and I still had access to it, despite the ATMs on the ship charging a fortune per transaction. My anxiety on a rolling simmer, I walked across the square to a small dress shop, scoping it for Hilary-approved outfits – I had to think old school Britney. Pre-pleather Taylor. Pink, white and fluffy, florals and fake smiles, Capri pants and cock-teasing.

I milled around the shops all day, in and out of boutiques and a small pharmacy where I managed to get pile cream, administering it in a blue-tiled toilet in a back street. The place stank of cheese but the relief was immediate.

Later I found a hair salon that was willing to install tumbling twenty-two-inch hair extensions all over my head. It was run by a small group of women who didn’t speak any English and by the time I returned to the dockside, I looked like a much better, cleaner, more carefree version of the person who had disembarked the ship that morning.

The Prossers were spilling out of a taxi in the car park as I walked through the dock gates towards the terminal building – Ken and Gloria were swinging Ty, Jayde was pushing Sansa in the buggy and Ryan Prosser looked like he’d walked off the cover of Men’s Health.

‘Hi, Hilary!’ Jayde called out. ‘I barely recognised you, you look amazing!’

‘Thanks,’ I said, flicking a clump of extensions over my shoulder. ‘I fancied a change.’

‘You look gorgeous, petal, have you had a good day?’ asked Glo.

‘Where’s Bruce?’ asked Ken.

I beamed my bestest Hila-beam, allowing it to falter slightly. ‘Oh, he’s had to stay on. He’s going to have to meet us in Barcelona instead. No biggy.’

‘Aww, I were looking forward to meeting him,’ said Glo.

‘Yeah, you will in a few days. No dramas.’