‘Not really,’ I said, wiping some crumbled mascara away from under my eye. ‘Only I’ve noticed she’s not eating much. Little bites here or there, but she’s hardly touched any of her meals. She seems to be mostly subsisting on Skittles and gin.’

For the first time since I’d answered the call, Sarah’s shoulders dropped from around her ears and her face broke into an almost-smile. ‘Is that all? That’s fine. She doesn’t eat, not really. Probably worried about fitting into her dress tomorrow. Not a concern, Fran.’

‘Perhaps her anxiety would be better if she was eating better,’ I suggested, more concerned than ever. ‘I could ask Chef if he can make her a green juice or a smoothie, something like that?’

I almost jumped out of my skin as Sarah threw her head back with laughter so violent, I was truly worried it would snap off her shoulders and roll away across the room.

‘Oh, that’s a good one. If you are going to give her a green juice, please film it and send it to me,’ she gasped, wiping at her weepy eyes. ‘On your work phone, obviously, don’t leave yourself open to a lawsuit. Gosh, thank you, I needed that. I’ll schedule her for a vitamin infusion and a colonic when she gets back.’

The very thought of it made me clench. Surely eating an apple every now and then was better than being stuck with needles and having a hosepipe shoved up your bum?

We went through the itinerary one more time before Sarah ended the call, leaving me gazing out of the window of my cabin as we sliced through the sea. The sky had turned overcast and rain was threatening to fall, but inside, my room was toasty and warm.

I’d adapted to yacht life very quickly. My bed was always made, my clothes were always clean and freshly pressed and every time I turned around, something magical had been delivered by the invisible stewards; a steaming pot of coffee, a pillowy soft sandwich, platters of tropical fruit and, on one very special occasion, a freshly baked chocolate chip cookie the size of my head. It was like being in the fanciest hotel ever, only the hotel was moving and there were more staff than guests. The only bad part was having to remember that I was one of the staff, not one of the guests.

Scanning the ceiling one more time for hidden cameras, I pulled my forbidden phone out from underneath my pillow and saw a text from Jess.

Well?? What’s happening??