The mining magnate’s main squeeze had had so much work done she gave new meaning to ‘manmade’. But she’d acquired Mother Theresa–like status in my mind because, at her request, Doctor Quinn had been summoned to the boarding area and would be waiting for me. Hell, I was so grateful I’d have given her a kidney if I could. ‘Good luck,’ she said, crunching my fingers in a chiropractic handshake.

The water taxi steered in next to the chugging behemoth, matching its speed and minimising the gap between the vessels. I watched as the ship’s crew lowered an aluminium stairway. To passing vessels our little skiff must have looked like a remora attached to a larger marine animal. This was a run-of-the-mill manoeuvre for an experienced taxi skipper, but seemed to be somewhat alarming for the magnate, who was quivering like a jelly at the thought of edging his way to the speedboat’s foredeck, which was the closest point to the cruise ship, and climbing aboard rung by rung. He grimaced, flashing a gold-tipped incisor, and firmly shook his head.

Leaving the trophy wife to coax her anxious hubby aboard the ship, I mountain-goated up the ladder in a few leaps. Two burly crew members immediately clambered down into the idling taxi to retrieve the suitcases of the unpunctual passengers.

When Brody realised who had ordered his urgent appearance on deck, he gave me the sort of look usually reserved for a strangely vacant person you see sauntering into a fast-food restaurant wearing a ‘Life Sucks’ T-shirt and holding a chainsaw.

‘You should be with your family,’ he said brusquely, putting down his medical bag. His dark eyes had gone dull, as if filmed over with layers of disappointment. And his hair, which usually curled in an unruly shock, now lay flat and lifeless.

‘But I don’t have cancer!’ I exclaimed. ‘It was all a mistake.’

Brody’s expression softened to one of baffled delight, then disbelief. ‘But why would your sisters lie to me?’

‘Because I lied to them.’

‘What? Why?’ His brow pulled into a frown.