I can’t help but think about Zach. That could have been us. I wonder if we ever actually looked like that. We didn’t exactly share a sense of humour. I shake my head. I don’t want to think about him now. For the next five days and four nights, I am Millie. My first goal is to find the butterfly wrasse. Thinking about the life I left behind comes second.

Clouds dot the sky, but I feel my shoulders starting to sunburn anyway, and I pivot my attention to the cover over the back of the boat that protects the benches and the captain from the sun. I glance at angry suntan man, who looks remarkably less angry and instead like he may start to enjoy himself. He’s got a smirk on his face that reads, Aren’t you gonna thank me? I don’t thank him. Instead, I ruminate on how annoying I think his tan is. I bet he isn’t in a rush to put on sunscreen.

The boat is a flurry of activity. I see a woman with a messy bun ducking in and out of the room on the middle of the deck. A dark-haired man is flitting from bow to stern and back again. I know based on Millie’s registration that the boat can fit twelve, but looking at it now, I don’t see how. All I can see is a flat white deck, a large white sail, the captain’s chair at the back, surrounded by benches and covered by an overhang, and in the middle of the boat, something that looks like a small cabin.

An extremely tanned barefoot man with blond dreads and dark sunglasses deftly manoeuvres past us and jumps onto the boat with the agility of a jungle cat. Angry suntan man and I exchange a look. I can tell he’s also wondering what’s going on. A second later the man with dreads pops back out onto the pier and greets us.

‘I’m Aaron,’ he states, like that explains everything. ‘I’ll grab your stuff.’ He reaches for my suitcase and flings it on board like it’s weightless. I cringe at the memory of having to kick it into the compartment underneath the bus.

‘I don’t need to show you ID?’ I call after Aaron, but it’s too late, he’s already climbing aboard with my bag. He picks up angry suntan man’s next. Only once he’s stored our luggage does he pop back out onto the deck. ‘Shoes into the bin,’ he says, looking down at us and gesturing at a large storage container on the dock. ‘No shoes aboard.’ We shrug and both chuck our flip-flops into the container.

‘Welcome to Coral Sea Dreaming,’ Aaron announces, stretching his arms out wide. ‘I’m your captain.’