‘It’s all that’s left,’ Minny tells us. ‘Besides, they’re great.’

‘You wear one then,’ I challenge.

She looks shifty at that. ‘BC wants me doing other stuff.’

‘I’m not wearing that,’ Lauren chips in.

‘Please,’ Minny begs. ‘Pretty please. The customer has paid a fortune for these and there’s no one else left to do it.’

Out of the window I can see stilt-walkers entertaining the guests who are streaming up the gangway and on to the boat. They’re all wearing summery, tropical clothing.

‘I’m out of here now,’ Lauren says.

‘Wait, wait.’ I pull my sister to one side out of Minny’s earshot. ‘If I refuse to do this, it could cost me my job.’

‘They can’t sack you for not wanting to dress up in a hideous costume,’ Lauren points out.

‘But suppose I get a name for being difficult – it might make things uncomfortable for me on our trip to Peru.’ I tut – which doesn’t go anywhere close to expressing my frustration. Not within ten miles of it. ‘Do it,’ I urge Lauren. ‘Please do it. For me.’

She sighs unhappily. ‘For you,’ she says. ‘I’ll do it only for you.’

I turn back to Minny. ‘Okay,’ I tell her. ‘We’ll do it.’

And, with that, she hands us two big orange plastic pineapple costumes.

Chapter 69

Chapter 69

Lauren and I regard ourselves in the full-length mirror which Minny has brought along, then wish we hadn’t. Dearly wish we hadn’t.

‘Fucking hell,’ Lauren puffs out with feeling.

I couldn’t agree more.

Our outfits are beyond awful, beyond hideous, beyond a joke. My lovely dress is on a hanger beside me, looking forlorn. My new hairdo is squashed flat.

‘Whatever they’re paying us,’ my sister snarls, ‘it isn’t enough.’

The pineapple costumes fit tightly round our neck and then the rigid plastic goes right down to our knees. It’s like trying to walk while encased in a great big orange barrel. Beyond that there are thick beige tights like surgical stockings. My strappy shoes look ridiculous at the end of them – if I could actually look more ridiculous than I do already.

On our heads we have a sprout of green plastic leaves like a pineapple top, held on by strong elastic under our chins. In no way, shape or form is this a good look. Not by any stretch of the imagination.

We can poke our arms out of the sides of the pineapple, but moving them about is another matter. Minny hands us orange gloves and we reluctantly pull them on for each other.

‘You owe me for this,’ my sister snarls as I yank her glove in place. ‘Big time. I don’t know what and I don’t know when, but you will pay me back for this.’