Jesse will be in pieces. I imagine he will have searched for me frantically, slowly coming to terms with the fact that it was me that the woman in the bar thought she saw fall overboard. I think about how he will have felt – from me telling him I was leaving, to discovering I was missing, no doubt panicking as he failed to find me. And now that it will have been confirmed that I didn’t get off the ship … I dread to think.

He will no doubt be blaming himself, after the argument that I deliberately started. He will probably think, like the rest of those on the ship, that I threw myself off. I hope he doesn’t sink too far into despair though, because I still need him.

This is far from the end of the story.

PART EIGHT

56

Lola

Sixteen days later

16 January 2022, 20:00

‘Wow. Fabulous. This looks amazing. Thank you,’ I say.

Rick’s done a great job with the food he’s brought down to the deserted crew area for me today – it will last me a good few days, which is exactly what I wanted just in case I need to buy myself a bit of time. I have planned very carefully, so hopefully the extra food won’t be necessary. He’s brought an entire roast chicken, some potatoes (which are raw but that doesn’t matter as there are plenty of kitchens I can use down here stocked with everything I need to cook them). I’ve also got a few apples, some yoghurts, cans of tuna and, best of all, the bottle of wine I’d asked for.

He shrugs. ‘It was pretty easy to get hold of,’ he says. ‘Alice has been too busy shagging Stuart whenever she gets the chance to pay too much attention to who’s helping themselves to a doggy bag.’

Lola smiles coyly. ‘Stuart! Ha. Been there, done that, bought the well-hung T-shirt.’

Rick snorts. ‘No shit! The dirty dog.’ He pulls me against him and gropes my arse. ‘Bet he wasn’t as good as me,’ he growls.

I squirm away. ‘Of course not, my studmuffin.’ In all honesty, I can’t remember – he’d brought along some treats from his medicine cabinet so the whole evening is hazy. ‘You’ll stay down and eat with me today, will you?’ I ask, using the ‘little girl’ voice that I know Rick, somewhat creepily, likes. ‘It gets lonely down here on my own.’

‘Yeah. It’ll all be worth it in the end, won’t it? Not that much longer now.’

‘Can’t wait,’ I say. This is true. But not for the reasons he thinks.

I put the potatoes on to boil and carve the chicken onto plates. I open the wine and pour us a glass each.