‘I need you to keep a close eye on her, keep her company, make sure she doesn’t do anything self-destructive. That sort of behaviour happens when people get bored. The boat is clean and I need someone on board to make sure it stays that way.’

‘You want me to clean the boat?’ I asked, confused. ‘That wasn’t in the job description at all and, truth be told, I’m not sure that’s really in my skill-set. I mean, I can run a hoover around, but anything more than that and …’

Sarah inhaled deeply and closed her eyes, waiting for me to catch up.

‘Oh,’ I said.

Sarah exhaled slowly through her nose.

‘You don’t mean that kind of clean?’ I said.

Sarah shook her head.

‘You mean the other kind of clean.’ I tapped my nose and sniffed theatrically.

‘She really is going to love you,’ Sarah sighed as she scanned the pile of clothing on the settee. ‘I think we have everything you’ll need. Put these in your suitcase and meet me downstairs. Your car is waiting.’

‘My car?’ I asked. I shoved all the beautiful clothes into my already crammed case, only managing to zip it through sheer force of will. ‘Where are we going?’

‘I’m staying here,’ she replied as I followed her back to the spiral staircase, humping my even heavier case all the way back down. ‘You’re going to the airport.’

‘I am?’

She nodded. ‘You’re booked on a flight to Naples that leaves in forty-five minutes.’

‘Naples, Italy?’

‘Certainly not Naples, Florida,’ she replied with an absolutely filthy look.

‘No, of course not,’ I scoffed, making a mental note of the fact that there was a Naples in Florida and wondering what it might have done to deserve such scorn.

Outside the office, a gleaming black Bentley filled the narrow street, waiting for us with a rumbling engine.

‘The flight should land by four and a driver will be waiting for you. Call me as soon as you arrive at the docks, that’s where you’ll rendezvous with Juliette,’ Sarah instructed. ‘From there, you’ll sail to Panarea, arriving in time for the ball on Saturday.’

Charter flight? Docks? Yacht?

And then it hit me. My invaluable sailing experience.

‘I know my CV mentioned I’ve done some sailing, but it was a long time ago and probably more of a passive experience than your hands-on, knot-tying, ahoy-ye-matey stuff,’ I said, the words tumbling out of my mouth before I could stop them. ‘In fact, if I were to be entirely honest, I wouldn’t call myself a sailing expert. Or proficient. Or in any way, shape or form capable of sailing a boat at all. Not even a dinghy. I once sank a lilo in Tenerife.’

‘Then I’ll tell the captain not to put you in charge of the engine room,’ Sarah replied flatly. ‘Is that all?’

‘Yes?’