It was like coming off a rollercoaster, all of them panting and beaten about by the wind. They bobbed on the water, no land in sight, just deep blue above and below.

‘Oh my God, that was incredible!’ she sighed happily as the crew unloaded the lunches and they were able to unclip themselves and stretch their legs.

‘My butt’s gone numb,’ Linus cried, seeming somewhat delighted by it.

‘Yeah, mine too,’ Emil agreed, copying his son in a strange glute-squeezing dance clearly intended to improve blood flow. Bell grinned, amused as she watched them both. There was a physical echo between them as they jiggled about, trying to outdo each other with their silliness. She thought they probably didn’t see that they had the same walk, or that they both tipped their heads to the side, just a little, when listening, or that they pulsed their index fingers and thumbs together as an impatient tic.

‘Not the most deluxe lunch you’ll ever have,’ Mats said, breaking her attention and handing her a baguette and bottle of water.

‘Oh, thanks.’

‘But weight’s crucial to performance, so we can only bring a minimal load on board.’

‘Especially when you’ve got three bodies sitting as dead weights behind the helm,’ she said self-deprecatingly.

‘Emil’s the boss. He’s no dead weight,’ Mats laughed, as the man himself wandered over.

Linus – having watched the crew running back and forth over the trampolines all morning – followed suit, running with a bandy-legged gait between the cross-members like he was in a soft play centre.

‘Did we bring the, uh . . .?’

‘Yeah, sure,’ Mats said, reaching down and pulling out a magnum of Bollinger. Chilled.

‘Hey, Linus –’ Emil took it from him and shook it up, letting the cork pop in a perfect arc through the air, plumes of champagne streaming out so that Linus was running through mists of effervescence, arms outstretched to the sky. Bell sighed. Any hopes of preventing him from becoming overexcited were well and truly dashed for the day.

‘So a bottle of champagne isn’t considered a detriment to the weight–drag performance ratio, then?’ she asked, as Mats presented a couple of plastic wine glasses too.

‘Of course not. The bubbles keep it light,’ Mats quipped as Emil poured.

Bell laughed.

‘Do the guys want some too?’ Emil asked Mats.

Mats looked back at his team, their lifejackets off now that the boat wasn’t moving, all of them tucking in ravenously to their lunch. ‘Best not. They’ll need clear heads in case we meet those storms later.’

Bell looked at the huge bottle. Surely she and Emil weren’t expected to drink all that on their own?

‘They’re not due till evening, I thought,’ Emil said.

‘Nope. But that wind’s gustier than I’d expected at this point,’ Mats said, thoughtfully casting his gaze over the horizon. It was still bright, but the distinct, sharp seam between sea and air had become blurred, atmospheric conditions beginning to change. ‘I’ll buy them all a beer back at base.’