‘Hey,’ I called to get everyone’s attention. I had six pairs of eyes on me, even Hannah’s. ‘Duncan and I were talking about going out to dinner tonight – all of us. What d’you say?’ There was general agreement, which delighted me. I wanted to get my fill of family time before we all went off in different directions. It wasn’t lost on me that our group’s demise was only three days away.

Three days.

As we dispersed to various places on the boat, it started to sink in that soon I wouldn’t get to see these people every day. My family, my friends. Josh. It’s incredible how fast complete strangers can become important to you.

I had seen this phenomenon while I was working as a tour manager. People forging lifelong friendships in a matter of days or weeks. It had happened to me with some of the people I trained with and even with people who’d been my clients. It may have been a decade before, but we were connected on Facebook and sent each other messages. If we were in the same city, we’d meet for a drink and catch up. They were as much my people as the friends I saw all the time, because with them, I had shared something extraordinary.

We had travelled together for weeks on end – twenty-four-seven – and we’d had grand adventures. And some big nights out. And even bigger nights in. These were the people who had seen me at my worst – hungover and cranky and existing on a few hours of sleep – and my best – capable in a crisis, gregarious and charming with border guards and locals, skilfully navigating fifty people around an entire continent. I would always consider the friendships I forged in my touring days as something to be treasured, something exceptional.

That’s how I felt about the people on the boat. Gerry. Duncan. Gary. Marie. Hannah. And Josh. We’d shared something I’d never experienced before. We’d laughed – some of us had cried. We’d broken bread and broken camp. As I’d called them many times, we were a floating family.

I was at once excited for what the next few days would hold and deeply saddened it was all coming to an end.

*

A few hours later, we were seated around a large wooden table laden with exquisite Greek food. As we had been before and would likely be again, we were the rowdiest table in the place. Duncan was telling us about when he and Gerry went to Chile to see her family. Apparently, they’d been particularly impressed by his attempts at Spanish, even though he barely knew ten words. But that was Duncan all over – such a charmer.