As I bit into a piece of toast – Greek bread is amazing, by the way – I wondered if I could ever live on a boat. I loved being on the water. I loved the salty air and being under sail. I didn’t even mind the boat chores Duncan had assigned to me, like tying off the buoys.

I came at the idea in a different direction. If I did live on a boat, what would I miss about my apartment? The first thing that popped into my head was my shower. At home, I had hot water with awesome pressure for days. I had as many towels as I wanted or needed, and cupboards and drawers filled with toiletries. And, when I took a shower at home, I didn’t get the toilet, the floor, the sink, and the window wet.

And my bed! My big, beautiful, comfortable bed, and my fluffy doona, and my pillow! I let myself daydream a little about sleeping in a proper bed, rather than on a tiny boat bunk with an eight-centimetre foam mattress, a pillow the size of a magazine, and a roommate who wished she had a cabin to herself.

‘Daydreaming?’ Josh’s voice cut through my thoughts.

‘So much.’

‘Oh yeah? What about?’ He took a sip of tea.

‘Being in bed,’ I replied.

He spat out the tea – fortunately, not in my direction.

I laughed. ‘No, not like that. Like, sleeping in a real bed.’

He coughed a few times. ‘I get it, I get it.’

‘You’re silly.’

‘Yes.’

‘We’ll get to sleep in real beds tomorrow, remember?’ The sailing part of the trip was finishing in Mykonos the next day. We were all staying at different hotels across the island, but we’d agreed to meet up for dinner to say a proper goodbye.

Actually, Josh wasn’t officially staying anywhere. He’d booked a ferry for the following afternoon back to Athens. The rest of us had already convinced him to change his ferry ticket and stay another night with us in Mykonos. He was going to find somewhere to stay when we got in.

‘That’s right,’ he said, nodding. ‘Kinda sad, though, isn’t it?’

‘End of the trip …’ I trailed off, fighting the sadness that overwhelmed me.

‘Yeah …’ Josh trailed off too and we finished the rest of our breakfast without another word. There was no longer a comfortable silence.

Our afternoon was filled with warm sunshine and cool breezes, with all of us together at the beach. It was called Lichnaftia in English, but I was not going to attempt it the way the native Greeks said it. It was hard enough in my native tongue. Lick-naf-tee-a, in case you wanted to try it aloud. It was tucked away on the east end of the island and we’d arrived there on scooters, solely on Duncan’s word that it was something special.

He was right.