Sunday, 6 January – Mallorca

1. People who still don’t know what to do with an apostrophe
2. The idiot savant in the nightly quiz who keeps winning. For fuck’s sake, get a girlfriend and give somebody else a chance to win a baseball cap.
3. The Jonas Wives
4. Football fans who act like Match of the Day pundits but haven’t kicked a ball since they were teenagers – e.g. Ken and Dennis
5. Adam Levine

I could see the newspapers now:

NIPPED IN THE BUD: Killer Turns Soft

FROM SWEETPEA TO PANSY: Murderer Admits Baby Dulled Killer Instinct

DEAD HEAD: Badass Bitch Gives Up Bloodlust For Bootees

Caro tried hard to snap me out of my malaise, inviting me up to the Diamond Deck for a dinner and jazz evening. It was a whole other world. Clean, quiet, beige. Each dining table had its own personal member of staff in attendance and there was a complete absence of noise and/or children. It was like a soundproof haven, separate from the rest of the ship.

Even so, I couldn’t lift myself out of my doom. Caro would have got more conversation out of her still-bleeding filet mignon.

‘Do your hands still hurt?’

She’d given me a pair of navy silk gloves to wear to repel queries about the scratches. They stung like hell but only when I was reminded. ‘No.’

‘More wine?’

‘No thanks.’

‘How’s your steak?’

‘Fine.’

‘What would you like to do tomorrow? I have a hair appointment first thing but we could take a taxi into Palma afterwards?’

‘I don’t need you to babysit me.’

‘There’s a good chiropodist in Palma actually. We could go and have pedicures together if you want to. How about that?’

‘I’d rather have a smear test done with rusty instruments.’

‘Whatever tickles your fancy.’

‘Don’t worry about me tomorrow. I’ll be all right on my own. You go and have your hair did and your feet felt.’

She carried on chewing her filet. ‘We don’t have to explore at all. We could stay on board. The pool on this deck is much less busy. No children, none of those silly pool noodles to keep tripping over.’

The reminder kicked me in the heart. ‘I think I’ll have an early night.’

‘Are you sleeping at the moment?’

‘No, but I can watch TV.’

She rooted around in her handbag for an age, eventually pulling out a small bottle of pills. ‘One will suffice.’

‘What is it?’

‘They’re prescribed, but they can knock you out. When you’ve had a good night’s rest you’ll be able to think more clearly.’ I reached out for the bottle but she held it away from me. ‘Oh no, I’ll administer, I think. Come along.’