My face registered a look of mild surprise and then deepening horror as it hit me that, of course, Harry didn’t know about the misdiagnosis. Nor could I guess how he’d react to the news that I’d hijacked my sisters to come on a cruise on false pretences. I experienced a colonic flutter as my sphincter battened down its hatches. Why, oh, why hadn’t I come clean way back in the beginning? Of the many, many misdemeanours of my life, this was by far the stupidest thing I’d ever done. I took a deep breath and tried to steady my nerves. There was no need to panic, I told myself – a handy little phrase which often means ‘Take those cyanide pills now.’

But before I could blurt out the whole surreal tale, Emerald, who’d been eavesdropping, suddenly barrelled back into the conversation. ‘Do you have my sunscreen?’ she asked, winking at me. ‘Has Ruby told you the great news? It was a misdiagnosis. She got the doctor’s apologetic email this morning,’ she gushed. ‘It’s miraculous. She has told you, hasn’t she?’

Harry’s double take was so cartoon-comical it could quite possibly have caused whiplash. ‘Is it true?’ he asked, warily.

I nodded. Hey, I’d been lying for weeks, why start being honest now? Nauseated at the level of my deceit, I just tried to maintain an enthusiastic facial expression. I smiled until my face cramped. The gauzy, leaden atmosphere around Harry suddenly lifted. His eyes started to burn and his chin to tremble.

‘Seriously? Is this for real?’ he asked, falteringly.

I felt like the demented heroine in a Tennessee Williams play who’d forgotten her lines and had no prompt. All I could do was nod away like a bobbleheaded toy dog in the back window of a car.

Harry’s face, which had been ravaged with despair, lit up. He let out a baritone boom of a laugh.

‘Bloody hell! I was about to organise a marathon with the footy boys and the surf lifesavers: “Run for Ruby”. And I deadset hate running! But I was sure as hell going to run one for you.’ He laughed again and hugged me to his chest once more, wiping tears from his eyes. ‘Come on. Let’s get home and tell the kids the amazing news. Zoe’s still up at Byron, but we can Skype. And Jake’s asleep on the couch, chucking a sickie.’

‘Um, the kids already know that it was a false alarm and that I’m okay.’

‘What? You told them before me?’

I glanced at Emerald, pop-eyed, signalling SOS.

‘Ruby wanted to tell you the good news in person,’ Emerald ad-libbed.