Page 40 of In the Same Boat

I can hear the muffled rhythm of movement. Footsteps crossing the deck. A burst of laughter that sounds like Chrissy pretending to find my dad funny.

I lie back on the bed for a second and stare at the ceiling. This is not how I imagined this trip going. Not that I’d imagined it in any great detail – the whole point was that this was supposed to be a break from work, a chance to do nothing but chill out, to hop into a pair of trunks, and do nothing but swim, snooze on the deck, eat and drink everything. I’m sure I’m alone in saying this, but, for me, coming to Monte Carlo was an opportunity not to socialise, to be reclusive, but, you know, on a yacht. But my dad had other ideas, ideas he didn’t think of mentioning to me…

I know, I sound like a dick, because one minute I’m pushing him to meet someone else, and the next I’m moaning about him actually finding someone, but the idea was for me to get more free time without him, not even less with him and his new woman. And her daughter too – I definitely didn’t sign up for that. At least if Sammie were friendly, we could probably have a laugh about it, but she seems so tightly wound.

There’s a knock on my cabin door. Dad doesn’t wait for me to call out that he can come in, he walks in regardless, but he at least has the decency to look a little sheepish about it.

He comes in and sits down on my bed. As he does he removes that ridiculous captain’s hat he’s found somewhere, and holds it in his hands.

‘How’s it going, son?’ he asks.

I look at him for a moment. I feel like it’s probably his job, to speak first, to apologise, or at least explain.

‘Not ideal,’ I reply.

He sighs as though I’m being difficult for sport.

‘Nico—’

‘Dad,’ I say, echoing his tone. ‘You invited them on our holiday?’

‘Yes…’

‘You said this was going to be a lads’ trip.’

I can’t say I loved the sound of it, when that was how he described it, but he did style it out as a bonding trip for the two of us.

‘And now it’s a lads’ trip with women on it,’ he says, as though that’s supposed to get me on board. ‘I thought you’d be pleased.’

‘Why would I be pleased?’

‘Monaco. Sunshine. Pretty women.’

‘Monaco, the sunshine, and plenty of women were already here,’ I point out, not that I was after much of the latter. ‘Why did you have to bring those two?’

He laughs.

‘I heard you showing off your yacht to them,’ I say, my brow furrowing as I narrow my eyes at him.

‘Let me have this,’ he practically pleads. ‘Come on, I really like Chrissy, I want her here, I want to impress her. I want her to like me.’

Hearing the hope in his voice, his tone softer than usual, the pleading in his eyes – I can tell that he really does want this.

I pause for a moment, lost in my thoughts, because the truth is, I know my dad. Better than most people do. He’s sociable and loud and always seems like he’s having a better time than everyone else, but underneath that he’s actually quite careful. Especially since Mum died. He’s dated occasionally, but casually, keeping things light, avoiding anything that might matter too much. But this… this seems like it matters to him.

It works both ways too. Dad knows me better than anyone else. The thing about parents is they get to know versions of you that no one else does. Not because they are especially insightful, though some of them are, but because they were there before you started editing. Before you refined yourself into the version that functions best at work, among friends, in public. They remember the first drafts. Even if they don’t always understand them, they could see the outline of what you were going to become, and Dad knows that there’s no way I’m going to ruin this for him.

‘Okay,’ I say slowly. ‘I get it, you really like Chrissy, but did Sammie have to come?’

‘I thought she could be company for you,’ he suggests. I shoot him a look. ‘She’s your age…’

‘Anyone my age is my age,’ I clap back. My point doesn’t come across as clearly as I had intended it. ‘Being the same age doesn’t mean we’ll have anything in common.’

‘You don’t need anything in common, to?—’

‘Let me stop you there,’ I interrupt him. ‘I am not double-dating with my dad. At all – but especially not a mother-daughter duo. That’s asking for trouble.’

‘I thought you liked trouble?’ he points out with a grin. ‘Look, I just thought it’d be nice. Chrissy gets to bring Sammie, you get someone your own age around instead of having to entertain me all week…’