She sent it through, waiting until her own phone beeped before turning his off and pushing it deep into the bottom of her bag. When she got off the ship in Iceland, she would dump the phone, along with everything else incriminating. It would all be gone, buried in the snow, and none of it could ever be traced back to her.

Feeling better, she stood up and went in search of First Officer Patrick Duane.

She moved through the restaurant, recoiling at the stench of the buffet. The grease, the bacon, the eggs… it was like being back at William’s house. In contrast to her disgust, her stomach growled noisily, betraying her.

Across the room she saw him, Tommy, alone with just a mug of coffee for company. She slowed down, smiling now, and considered diverting over to him.

Last night, or rather in the early hours of this morning, when the light show had finished, they had waited until the crowds had drifted away from the upper deck before parting ways.

‘See you tomorrow?’ he had asked hopefully, looking boyish and love-struck.

She had softened her eyes as she gazed at him, fully in character, and nodded.

Well, now it was tomorrow, and he was clearly alone. She thought of Paula in her suite, no doubt bouncing from teary and emotional to furious and hurt.

She took a step forward. Behind her, someone swished past. A murmured ‘excuse me’, and obediently, on reflex, Anna stepped out of the way. A waft of fried food trailed in the person’s wake, and she breathed in sharply as the woman wove through the tables towards Tommy.

Paula.

She watched as Paula put a plate down in front of Tommy. He grinned up at his wife; in response, she plucked a piece of bacon from his plate. He snatched it back, laughing now, and she gave up the mock fight, sitting down next to him, so close their sides were touching.

What the fuck?! Anna knew her eyes were blazing, her stance stiff like ice.

She turned and fled before they could look up and see her, knowing that the ferocity showed in her face, her nails biting the skin of her palms as she hurried as fast as she could away from the restaurant.

‘Officer… Patrick!’

She spotted him on the bottom deck, tall and authoritative in his heavy woollen coat, the gold insignia on his sleeve gleaming in the weak sunshine. He stooped slightly in order to hear what the passengers he was chatting to were saying.

The wind had picked up, she noted; the promised storm was coming. And Patrick hadn’t heard her as he bade goodbye to the couple and walked on.

‘Patrick!’ She broke into a run, her breathing laboured as she charged on down the deck.