I hold my hands up and step back from her. ‘Sorry. Go ahead.’

She sits down on the bottom bunk and starts pulling her costume off. ‘It’s not just the ship. I’m sorry to have to say this, Jesse, but it’s also you. You always being here, telling me what to do. Being on my back. I get that you’re trying to protect me, but it’s stifling – I’ve had enough.’ She pulls on a pair of tracksuit bottoms and a vest top.

I swallow hard and nod, fighting back tears. I can’t lose her. Not again. I can’t.

‘Jesse,’ she says, using the name that we only ever use in private. She insists on me calling her Lola all the time – something to do with leaving her past self, Laura, behind. It’s very important to her that people don’t know what happened to her when she was a child. She stands up and looks me in the eye.

‘I’m twenty-three years old. I don’t need my brother telling me what to do, who I should or shouldn’t see, who I should or shouldn’t sleep with. I want to have fun, on my own terms. And I don’t want to work the ships anymore. I’ve had enough. I want time to myself. To be in one place. To not live in a horrible cabin with stupid bunk beds and have to work every hour God sends.’

I open my mouth to speak, but she holds up her hand.

‘You are overprotective and sometimes, I suspect, even a bit weirdly jealous of the men I see …’

See? That’s a euphemism, I think to myself, but know better than to say anything.

‘… to the extent that sometimes it scares me,’ she continues. ‘I hate how much time you spend fretting about me. It makes me feel responsible for your happiness. And it’s hard enough for me being responsible for my own happiness. I don’t want to be your problem. I’ve had enough. I want to be by myself. When the ship docks, I’m leaving. Possibly not for good, but at least for a while.’ She pauses. ‘And you are not coming with me.’