Rubbing my forehead, I grab my sweatshirt and my phone from the opposite mattress, where I’m storing all my stuff, and clamber upstairs. My eyes are puffy from crying last night and I’m glad I have some privacy in the cool morning air to try and regain some normalcy. I’m the first one out on the deck, and it feels so good to be out of the confines of our tiny room, and instead in the middle of a great expansive ocean.

The boat feels clean and fresh in the morning, and the smooth white laminate feels cold on my feet. It’s only just dawn, and there’s a grey light all around. I take a deep breath of the salty air. Only because no one else is awake, I take the hammock, gingerly climbing into it. It rocks slowly with the boat’s movement. The sun starts to rise over the water, filling the sky with deep orange, then bright, almost neon pinks. Against the bright blue of the water, the sunrise is breathtaking. I stare at it for so long that when I look away, I have a bright spot in my vision. I take a picture on my phone, including the edge of the hammock so I can remember that there is a paradise somewhere, even if it’s half the world away.

Then I remember that Millie’s had her surgery.

I feel a little sick to my stomach at the thought. The desperation of wanting to know if she’s OK gets to me, and I start to cry again. A tear escapes down my cheek as I watch the sunrise. I hadn’t factored in what waiting for Millie’s results would do to my mental health on the trip.

‘Please God, let Sal have gone gracefully,’ I whisper, the ocean breeze carrying away my words.

‘Sal?’ Hugh asks, clearing his throat. I hadn’t heard him climb up onto the deck, and now he’s standing at the edge of the platform beneath the hammock.

‘Ohmigod,’ I say quickly, the scenes from my dream come back to me and flood me with embarrassment. I sit straight up, causing the hammock to swing violently from side to side. ‘Ah!’ I scream, attempting to regain control of it before it dumps me over onto the platform.

Hugh smiles a sleepy, crooked smile and reaches out a large hand to steady the hammock. ‘I got you,’ he says.

I can barely stand to look at him so closely, his lips, his eyes, even the curve of his shoulders are doing something to me that I don’t want to admit. I want to stay mad at him for being rude and self-important yesterday. It felt like as soon as I made the mistake of thinking he was a nice guy, he wasted no time in proving me wrong. I pointedly look at the sunrise.