‘In your wet dreams,’ I scoffed. My irritation at this man was almost enough to make me forget the pain of my various ailments.

When the doctor had finished his ministrations, I stood up to leave. ‘Thanks. I’m a huge fan of your work. Let’s make sure we never do this again some time.’

Famous last words – the kind of last words that, hubris dictates, usually indicate it’s time to pull the emergency brake on an out-of-control, runaway train.

16

‘Okay, I now diagnose a case of chronic hypochondria.’ The doctor smirked as I appeared the next day at his surgery door.

‘I am not a hypochondriac,’ I bristled.

‘Then hypochondria must be the only disease you don’t have.’

‘Jellyfish sting. Can you believe it? Not even Billy Connolly could turn this journey into a witty anecdote.’ I lifted my T-shirt and revealed the thick red welts on my abdomen.

‘Yep, that looks nasty.’

‘There are some stings in other more, um . . . sensitive areas.’

‘Skinny dipping, eh?’ The doctor stood and began to assemble equipment to bathe my wounds in soothing antihistamine lotion. ‘Just a tip – knowing the location of all venomous creatures in the vicinity is really the minimum precaution one should take before exposing one’s naked body to the elements.’

‘Really? Thanks so much! I wish I’d thought of that!’

I’d actually spent a sublime day on Mystery Island – population zero – with my sisters. The palm-tree-fringed beaches and coral caverns so resembled a storybook fantasy that I’d expected to see singing mermaids riding foam seahorses. It’s taboo to live on the southernmost island of the Vanuatuan archipelago, but grass-skirted locals had paddled over from nearby Aneityum Island to slice open coconuts with machetes for thirsty visitors, then entertain with traditional dance.

Strolling far from the crowds around the white, silica-sanded beach, we Ryan sisters had found a secluded, shaded spot and braved a skinny-dip. It had been Emerald’s idea. ‘Come on! As you said, Ruby, it’s the first time we’ve been away together like this since we were kids – but this time there’s no parental supervision. So, let’s muck up!’

‘We can do synchronised swimming,’ Amber had laughed, peeling off her clothes. ‘Just like we used to do in the pool at home. Except naked!’

‘I just hope we don’t get caught in a rip. Otherwise it will be the most embarrassing winch up to a rescue helicopter in human history,’ I joked, stripping off and cantering after them into the lagoon. The water is, after all, my natural habitat. At school I’d won every swimming carnival, but Mum had put the kibosh on professional coaching because ‘men don’t like muscly girls’.