‘Well, buy them from me,’ Emil said. ‘Put it on the account. You’ve all worked hard for us this morning. We appreciate it, don’t we, Linus?’

‘Huh?’ Linus called, still playing on the nets.

‘Thanks, boss,’ Mats said, echoed by a broken rumble of appreciative voices from the men behind. ‘That’s very generous.’

‘You must be exhausted,’ Bell said as Mats began to eat, tearing at his baguette like a lion devouring an antelope.

‘All in a day’s work,’ he shrugged.

‘You didn’t stop.’

‘Can’t afford to. In a twenty-minute competition, I can make up to 1,100 adjustments to the foils and rudders.’ He smiled at the shocked expression on her face. ‘Did I hear that you’re a sailor?’

She was further taken aback. ‘I don’t know, did you?’

His eyes slid over questioningly to a wide-eyed Linus, who was dangling from the boom. ‘Hmm.’

She gave a small groan and smiled. ‘I was, once. A lifetime ago.’

‘Ah, you know what they say – once a sailor, always a sailor.’

‘Well, I never did anything at this level. The speeds you can reach, the tech you’ve got . . . it’s an entirely different beast to what I knew.’

‘Different, but still the same,’ he shrugged. ‘You don’t miss it?’

She froze, not wanting to think about how much she missed it. Missed him. A silence stretched, but she didn’t notice.

‘Bell had been sailing the world with her fiancé, but then he died,’ Emil said bluntly, stepping in for her.

Mats’ expression changed from curiosity to shock. ‘Oh jeez, I’m sorry, I had no idea!’

‘Well, of course not. Don’t worry, it’s fine,’ she said in a wobbly voice, forcing a smile as she glanced angrily at Emil, drinking his champagne like nothing had passed. She knew he hadn’t intended to be cruel, but he had delivered the statement so clinically – just facts, no emotion. No filter.

‘Can I . . . ask what happened?’ Mats enquired, his face a picture of concern.

She looked back at him. ‘Cancer. Pancreatic.’

His face fell. ‘Oh God. That’s the worst. My best mate’s brother was diagnosed three weeks after the birth of his daughter; the poor bugger died nine months later. By the time they found it, it had spread too far . . .’ He shrugged hopelessly.

‘That was the same with Jack. He died within four months.’

‘No symptoms either?’

She hesitated, feeling the pinch of blame in the words she must say. ‘. . . Actually, there were some. But he ignored them. We both did.’

Her face must have registered some of her all-consuming guilt because Mats leaned forward. ‘Hey, don’t do that. Don’t make it your fault. I know what it’s like when you’re on open water, normal life seems so . . . improbable. You’re out there, free, seeing the world, and life feels beautiful and limitless; but it can also be really hard and distracting on the waves; there’s no mercy out there. Things get missed or put off. And what the hell can you do in the middle of the Pacific anyway, you know?’