The last thing I remember before drifting off into a fitful sleep is that when Hugh comes in the room to go to bed, he whispers, ‘Goodnight, Millie.’

I wake up to the rolling of the ship. We are already moving, undoubtedly heading towards Fitzroy Island. Suddenly, I can’t wait to get off the boat and out of these cramped quarters. I scurry down from my bunk. Hugh is still asleep, his mouth slightly open, his perfect, plump bottom lip looking extremely kissable. A shiver runs down my spine as I remember where his lips were yesterday. I steal out of the room before he wakes up to find me looming over him like a lovesick puppy.

If I’m not going to have the guts to tell him, maybe I can get through today with minimal Hugh contact. Then I have one more dive, and I’ll be home free. I grab a coffee and sit on the platform, the breeze ruffling through my hair. Aaron is already gunning full speed towards a green mountain in the distance. It’s the only land around, and the only land we’ve seen in days. I feel a burst of joy at the prospect of finally getting off the boat. Fitzroy Island, here we come.

Fitzroy Island is a lush green mound in the middle of the sparkling aquamarine of the Pacific Ocean. It looks small from far away, but the closer we get, the larger it looms over the horizon. As we approach land, everyone clusters on deck, craning their necks to watch the white sand get closer and closer. If I thought Cairns looked like paradise, Fitzroy is ten times as beautiful. There’s one lone dock jutting out from the beach, rickety and wooden, and we are the only boat as far as the eye can see. The island looks so untouched and uninhabited that I’m beginning to wonder if there is even a turtle sanctuary.

Vanessa sets down her coffee and picks up her clipboard.

‘We hike first,’ she explains, ‘then we take our trip to the turtle sanctuary, which is where we eat lunch, then we have a couple hours at the beach, then we’re back on the boat in time for a late dinner. Cool?’

‘Cool,’ the group echoes.

Aaron lugs a large container upstairs, the bin where we all placed our shoes, and everyone grabs their sandals.

Pippa clears her throat. ‘Is the hiking, um, hard?’ she asks tentatively. She wriggles her toes, which are painted a bright pink. ‘I only have flip-flops.’

‘It’s not really a hike.’ Vanessa sighs, as if she wishes that weren’t the case. ‘We’re just going to the top of the island.’ She gestures towards the mountain in front of us.

Pippa’s jaw drops.