She had never experienced anything like it as the boat sliced along, ever faster, the crew slick and professional, oblivious to the spray that soused them as they worked. They looked almost menacing in their all-black Linea kit, working together intuitively. There was no doubt this boat was an eye-wateringly expensive piece of kit, an international player on the professional scene – and a mere toy for a family like his.

She still harboured strong doubts about the ethics of allowing a ten-year-old to believe he owned a multimillion-kroner boat, but she couldn’t deny this was fast shaping into a perfect day. The forecast storms were still nowhere to be seen, but the vanguard winds were playing to their advantage as the crew skilfully manoeuvred the super-vessel into catching it, billowing out the sails and skimming them for miles across the glassy ocean’s surface. They went so fast and so far, she half expected to see the coast of Finland.

Watching the crew in action was a masterclass in elite sailing, the men running full-pelt from one side to the other trying to catch the wind, winching in and out the sails from the grinding stations, leaping across the nets. They were both athletes and commandos, all being dunked repeatedly in the bracing water, the sea breaking over them with relentless force as the boat carved too sharply and deeply on some of the turns; without being clipped on, they would have been overboard, no question.

‘Keeping the platform stable on this boat is more complex than flying a helicopter,’ Emil shouted over the wind to Linus. ‘How many knots?’ he yelled over to Mats.

‘Fifty-two!’

Bell’s mouth opened. That couldn’t be right, could it? Could a sailing boat do those speeds? It would be fast for a speedboat!

‘Remember there’s a child on board!’ she hollered, unable to stop herself, her nerves getting the better of her again. Was this what it was going to be? An accident with Linus on board?

Mats turned back and winked at her. He was a stocky Australian, with a butter-blonde beard and hair tied back in a ponytail, the skin on his broad, planed face pleating thinly as he grinned. He probably wasn’t that much older than her, but life on the ocean didn’t just weather boats. ‘Don’t worry,’ he grinned. ‘I’ve got you.’

It was true, he did make it look easy as he handled the boat with instinctive skill. He was both powerful and light on his feet, issuing orders, hauling the giant helm, making tactical decisions . . . She didn’t notice the minutes clip by. There was too much to watch, always the expectation and then the thrill when the men got the boat exactly where they wanted her and she flew along on her rails again, making them all scream with delight. But eventually, Mats turned to Emil with an enquiring glance and, at his nod, the crew began winding in the sails, the boat dropping back into the water again, it’s speed falling from a sprint to a crawl, and eventually a stop.