AS SOON AS THEY HIT OPEN WATER, VAL BEGAN TO feel nauseous. The ocean wasn’t particularly rough, but the slight roll of the ship, the tilt of the horizon, and an odd sense of weightlessness meant her stomach heaved and the taste of vomit was ever-present in her throat. She sat on deck, wrapped in a blanket, trying to focus on a distant point, as one of the sailors advised. Nicole was unaffected, and spent her days socializing with the passengers and crew. Val watched her introduce herself to new groups and marveled at her confidence. She herself would never have been able to do that at five; she still felt shy meeting strangers at thirty-five.

The temperature grew warmer by the day, with blinding sunlight bouncing off the water. Val had been expecting to see lots of South Pacific islands, but apart from a glimpse of one of the Solomon Islands, the only view was interminable ocean and sky. Every nautical mile took her closer to the mother she hadn’t seen for twenty-three years, and she thought about her constantly, wondering what to expect, cautioning herself not to set her hopes too high, just in case . . .

One morning there was a kerfuffle. Straight after breakfast, sailors in fancy dress began rounding up passengers who had never crossed the equator before; Val was spared only because of her nausea.

She followed with Nicole as the others were led to an area on deck where a court had been established: King Neptune sitting on a throne in a long white beard, holding a triton; two men in brown bear costumes; a surgeon with a glistening knife; a policeman; and another sailor dressed as a woman, with a mop head for hair. There were nervous giggles as each passenger was summoned in turn while the court assessed their eligibility to become a “shellback”—sailors’ slang for someone who had crossed the equator.

“I want to do it!” Nicole cried, and a grinning sailor led her to the front of the pack, whispering something to the surgeon, who passed it along the line.

Neptune rose to his feet and addressed her in a booming voice. “Is it true, Nicole Doyle, that you have not stopped talking since this voyage began? That you are what some would call a chatterbox?”

Nicole looked a little cowed as she replied. “Yes, Mommy says I am.”

There were titters in the crowd.

“Is it true that you do not like eggs and have refused to eat them on this voyage even though they are good for you?”

She agreed that was true too.