She pulls back from me and wipes the tears from my cheeks with her hand – the same gesture that I’ve done to her so many times over the years. ‘I’ve been here all the time,’ she says. ‘On board. Hiding out. Since New Year’s Day. Down in the crew area. No one goes down there when there’s all the luxury they can enjoy up here. Why would they? It was easy. I had plenty of space. No one came near. I knew they wouldn’t.’

‘But how did you … that woman in the bar saw you fall, didn’t she?’

She smiles smugly. ‘She thought she did. Maybe that’s what she saw. Then again, maybe it wasn’t.’

‘But if it wasn’t you, who was it? Or how did you survive the fall? Or being in the water? Did you have a survival suit? How have you been getting food since …?’

She puts her finger on my lips.

‘I will tell you, I promise. All in good time. But you absolutely mustn’t tell anyone that you’ve seen me. And now I need your help, Jesse. You’ll help me, won’t you?’

49

Lola

Eighteen days earlier

New Year’s Eve 2021, 17:00

The Caribbean

I kiss him hard on the lips, roll off him and reach for my cigarettes which are on the floor of the tiny, squalid cabin in the bowels of the ship. Being below the waterline there is no porthole and no natural light or air, and it stinks. He traces his hand down my side as I lean down towards the floor. I know he will be admiring how my toned curves dip in at the waist and then flare out over my hips, and I love the power I have over him. I can get him to do anything I want.

He turns towards me and smiles as I light a cigarette.

‘Beats me how someone as fit as you can smoke so much,’ Rick says. ‘How can you dance three shows or whatever it is every day when your lungs must be shot to fuck?’

‘Almost all female dancers smoke because we’re barely allowed to eat,’ I say.

He runs his hand up the inside of my thigh, and then traces his finger over my stomach to my boobs. ‘You are the fittest woman I have ever shagged,’ he says.

I laugh. ‘So romantic,’ I say, sarcastically, taking another drag on my cigarette before stubbing it out in a near-empty glass on the floor. ‘I need to go. I’ve got the kids’ dance workshop to do.’

‘But you’ll come again tomorrow?’ he asks. We’ve got into a routine lately. Every other day or so I come to his cabin about this time between shows and workshops. When it fits in with both of our shifts. He is pretty good in bed and eager to please, if nothing else.