‘He expected me to deep-throat his chrome dome!’ she reported after kicking him out and joining Amber and me in our shared living area for a hot chocolate. ‘“Blow me, babe!” he said. I told him not to be ridiculous, and that the last time I was on my knees was two years ago when I was looking for a contact lens.’

Her second cub, however, was more appetising. ‘Apparently he loves skydiving,’ she told us, after finally emerging from her bedroom, spent and dishevelled and ravenous for breakfast. ‘You name a sky and he’s dived from it . . . I hate being in the air, but I thought it best not to mention that until after the wedding.’

‘I’m sure your husband will be pleased to hear that,’ Amber said through a clenched picket line of perfect white teeth. ‘And please tell me that’s mayonnaise on your dressing gown.’

That night Amber wore earplugs so as not to hear the laughter and shrieks coming from our older sister’s cabin, but I listened on, enviously, and yes, salivating slightly.

At breakfast the next morning, just as I was polishing off a tower of cinnamon pancakes, while Amber played with some exotic concoction involving coconut and quinoa, Emerald staggered into the dining room, late.

‘You’re starting to look as though you’ve just crawled out from under a Stone . . . most probably Keith,’ I ribbed her.

‘Hey, it’s not my first rodeo, kid. That’s why I’m having a mimosa for breakfast.’ She winked.

‘So, who was your poor victim last night?’ Amber asked, censoriously.

‘An engineering student.’

‘How was it?’

‘Put it this way – he turned on his bow thrusters and counter-propellers and shoved his rudder hard to starboard. But I’m afraid I had to scuttle him this morning. He talked all this new-age “woke” crap.’

‘Oh.’ I grimaced, laughing. ‘All that PC “woke” stuff puts me to sleep.’

‘Me too. In the end, I was like, hey, buddy, I don’t want to “tap into cuddle power” or “ditch the ideal and love what’s real” or be a “dream-maker not a dream-breaker”. I just want you to ride me, cowboy, and pillage like a pirate!’

I stifled a covetous sigh. While Emerald was having flirtation, fun and frottage, I was flat-out having ‘fun’ with Amber – activities that would make Albanian daytime television look riveting. When we weren’t at a flash mob dance rehearsal, discovering the art of glass blowing, or playing bridge, blackjack, shuffleboard, backgammon, indoor golf or mini tennis, we were catching waves on the flow-rider; that is, until my new bikini bottoms managed to catch a different wave from me all together.

‘Oh, god, what torture have you got planned for me tomorrow?’ I asked, grimacing, after dinner on day seven. ‘Abseiling off the bow? Walking on hot coals? Knitting my own straitjacket?’

‘Scuba diving lessons in the pool,’ Amber enthused.