The underwear modelling round must have come to an end, as the entertainment officer’s voice boomed once more over the tannoy. ‘And now, it’s time for Neptune, Sea King of the Cruise to reveal his hidden talent. But I think we already have a winner, girls – Jack here has just told me he can play the didgeridoo. Do you know what that means, laaadeeez? A guy who can breathe through his ears!’

As the all-female audience squealed with delight, the more agile male contestants executed backflips, handstands and cartwheels while the burlier ones concentrated on shows of strength, one even picking up a substantial-looking judge and lifting her over his head.

‘Look at those sad women, flaunting themselves in front of boys young enough to be their sons. What are they going to do – date them, or adopt them?’ Amber mocked.

I felt a twinge of ill ease. ‘Amber’s got a point. Isn’t it sexist, Emerald? To ogle men like this?’

‘Hmm. I passed that question on to my loins, which stirred then answered loudly, Hell no!’ Emerald said. ‘Women have been mercilessly subjugated by the patriarchal theonomy for eons. Now it’s our turn!’

‘I suppose your only objective for this cruise is to get laid?’ Amber asked Emerald, disapprovingly.

‘You bloody betcha. I’m gonna have my beefcake and eat him too.’ Emerald laughed. ‘And also drink the boat dry, obvs! Let’s do the wine tasting course that’s on offer. Maybe we’ll finally solve the conundrum of why men like their wine old and their women young.’ Emerald picked up a wine list and studied the descriptions. ‘“Nuanced”, “mature”, “complex” – surely these sommeliers could be describing we three middle-aged sisters?’

Amber laughed, finally relaxing. ‘Okay, so I’m going to stop being the perfect mum, and Emerald is getting back her sexual mojo, but what about you, Rubes? What’s your objective?’ Amber squeezed my hand once more and looked into my eyes with a mix of love, pathos and pity.

The truth tingled on the end of my tongue. Now was the time to spill the beans. Now, now, now . . .

‘Well, my objective is to . . .’ I began tentatively. ‘To have fun with my sisters, who are going to be nice to each other and become friends again, and rebuild our sisterly bond.’

Now, do it now, you gutless wonder. Level with them, I admonished myself. My lips parted to divulge my dark secret . . .

‘Otherwise, the next time you need my help to patch up your friendship after some stupid fight fuelled by our mother, you might be talking to me through a ouija board.’

Oh, that went well, I congratulated myself as my two sisters came in for a group hug. Well done. Time to pop over to Parliament House to pick up that bravery medal.