That dirty bastard, I think. He’s interviewing them for his paper. He’s getting proof that the wrasse doesn’t exist from the people who dive here for a living. I feel like someone’s reached into my chest and grabbed my heart . . . first-hand proof of the wrasse’s extinction is the last thing Millie needs. I’m seconds away from getting up and storming into the room myself, just to point out the hypocrisy of Hugh saying earlier that he would ‘help me’ find the wrasse, when I hear him ask something else. I make out the words ‘where would you look?’ before I slightly shift my body and press my ear closer to the window.

‘If the last place they were seen was Norman Reef, then I would try that,’ Vanessa says.

‘What are the odds we could do our afternoon dive there?’ Hugh asks. We have two more dives today, a midday and a late afternoon.

‘I can ask Aaron . . .’ There’s a pause. I remain as still as possible. ‘Wasn’t Millie the one looking for the butterfly wrasse?’

‘I’m just trying to be helpful.’

The fist around my heart relaxes. Seconds later, I hear Vanessa call out to Aaron to come down into their room.

‘Norman for the late afternoon dive?’ he asks. I can picture him poking at a map.

I hear footsteps coming around the platform and close my eyes, pretending to be asleep. For a second, I think it must be Andrew, because I hear Pippa shift in the hammock above me.

I crack open one eye ever so slightly.

Hugh is seated right next to me, staring at me. He clears his throat when he sees me opening one eye.

Pippa climbs out of the hammock. ‘I’ll let you two catch up,’ she says, making her way into the shade of the captain’s room.

I stare at my feet. I should thank Millie for making me get a pedicure before this, I think.

‘You’re not very good at pretending to be asleep,’ Hugh says.

‘I wasn’t pretending. You woke me up,’ I reply, although my voice comes out a little higher than normal, exposing my lie. ‘You didn’t have to do that,’ I mumble.

‘Do what?’

‘Ask Vanessa and Aaron where to find the butterfly wrasse.’

‘Yes, I did.’

I pull myself out of my reclined position and sit up straight. ‘No, you didn’t. You don’t have to prove to me that you want to help me. It’s too late.’ Why is staying angry at Hugh so hard? I think, watching the sun catch on the perfect slope of his nose.

‘It’s never too late,’ Hugh says matter-of-factly. ‘And I am not just doing it for you.’