I close my eyes and slide down under the water, holding my breath, trying to shut out my thoughts, the awfulness of everything that’s happening. As I resurface, I think I hear the room door on the lower floor of the suite slam shut.

‘Who’s there?’ I shout, leaping out of the bath and grabbing the plush robe I’ve left next to it. I rush down the stairs but there’s no one.

Perhaps I imagined it. It’s all been so stressful lately – it’s making me jittery. I turn to go into the bedroom and my heart leaps into my mouth. There’s something on the bed.

I KNOW WHAT YOU DID. IF YOU DON’T WANT ME TO TELL, MEET ME AT MUSTER POINT M FOR INSTRUCTIONS AT MIDNIGHT.

The note is written in spidery capitals and must have been put there while I was in the bath.

Someone came into my room? Who would do that?

I throw the note down as if it’s on fire and put my hand to my mouth. My legs feel quivery and I sit down on the huge bed. One of the advantages of being staff during this lay-up over when we have clients on board is we get to sleep in the passenger staterooms rather than our usual stinking below-decks cupboards. But that’s very little comfort right now.

The note has to be someone winding me up, surely? No one saw what I did, I’m sure of it.

And yet … what if they did? What do they want? I peer at the writing – scrawling, childish capitals. No clue there at all. I need to find out who sent it and what they know. And if they do know anything, I will need to deal with it.

8

Stuart

14 January 2022, 22:00

The Caribbean

Being a ship’s doctor is a pretty cushy number at the best of times, but being a ship’s doctor while we’re on lay-up could hardly be easier.