A quick look on Sam’s Facebook while Carrie is busy setting up the game, and it’s much of the same. For the first time, I feel a little detached as I scroll through the photographs. He’s still checking in to every place he goes, still hanging out with the beautiful people, still partying like he’s a student on a gap year. Surely he’ll tire of it all soon? Think about heading back home? I’m planning to keep looking at his posts for the foreseeable. If things don’t work out with Carrie, I do think I’ll be looking to track him down again. What annoys me is the rejection, I suppose.

It’s supposed to be me who does the walking away.

‘Enjoy.’ The woman behind the bar plonks the glasses in front of me unceremoniously.

I give her a smile, but she doesn’t return it. I can’t work out if she is genuinely pissed off, or if this is just the way she looks, but so far most of the female staff I’ve seen on the train have had similar expressions of woe. I expect she goes into the kitchen when we’re not there and laughs at us – the travellers – thinking we know what’s what in the world because we’ve taken a few trips. She’s right to be cynical. Most travellers I’ve met have been vacuous, or self-important, arrogant rich kids. That’s why I liked Sam … loved him, I mean. Because he was different. He had a good job, he had ambition – all he wanted was an extended holiday. But look at him now. He’s not who I thought he was. Carrie is different, too. Another one with drive – she saved that money for this trip, and she’s making the most of it. Sam … Carrie … these are my kind of people.

I’ve made a few mistakes along the way with some of the other friends I’ve made – but I don’t want to dwell on that now. Not when things are heading in the right direction.

Carrie grins at me as I place the drinks on the table. Beige, creamy liquid in proper martini glasses, with a little chocolate straw placed on the top. I hadn’t expected the woman at the bar to make such an effort but, as I’m finding out, things often surprise you when you least expect it.

Like Carrie – at the festival. Like that kiss, and her grabbing my hands and placing them on her naked body. I grin back as I take a seat opposite her, and I think my eyes must flick down towards her chest – unintentional, but the image is there in my mind. A shadow passes across her face, and I look away, out of the window, and wait.

After a moment of silence, she says, ‘It’s so weird being here.’