Page 64 of In the Same Boat

‘Oh, my bad,’ he replies. ‘It’s just hard to believe someone so grumpy could come from someone so nice.’

‘I am nice, you dick,’ I say – and yes, I know how that sounds.

‘Yeah, you are, you’re right, no idea where I got the impression you weren’t,’ he says sarcastically. ‘Oh, boy, they’re getting closer…’

I peer in at Mum and Hank. They are. They’re so close, and yet keeping just enough distance to keep the other person on the hook. As we’re watching, Mum reaches across the table and lightly touches Hank’s arm while he’s talking.

‘I can’t look,’ Nico says.

‘Me neither, so stop pointing stuff out,’ I insist.

It’s strange, but shared suffering really does bond people. Not always in healthy ways, admittedly, but there’s something weirdly comforting about sitting next to someone who is equally horrified by the exact same thing.

I sink further into the cushions with a sigh.

‘Do you think they realise how strange this whole set-up is for us?’

‘Absolutely not,’ he replies, before taking a swig of his drink. Nico made the cocktails and, loathe as I am to give him a compliment, they’re delicious. ‘They’re in that stage where everything feels magical to them, so they assume everyone else must also be having a magical time too.’

‘Magical, yeah, like when a magician saws a woman in half,’ I point out.

‘I think he’ll stop short of that, but I take your point,’ he replies.

I swirl my drink around my glass, staring into the little vortex it creates.

‘I just wanted one peaceful holiday,’ I tell him – although I’m not sure why I’m telling him of all people. Because like he’ll care.

‘That’s all I wanted too,’ he replies. ‘My dad, even on his own, can be a bit much. Living with him, we’ve seen far too much of each other – I thought a trip away would be a good way to reset that.’

‘And yet here we are…’

‘And yet here we are,’ he agrees. ‘I overheard them talking earlier, about all the fun activities they’ve got planned – for all four of us.’

I stare at him in horror.

‘This has to stop,’ I insist. ‘I can’t play happy families, I just can’t.’

‘You think I want to?’ he replies.

‘I think we’ve both established that neither of us is into this weird arrangement,’ I remind him. ‘The question is, what do we do about it?’

We both fall silent again.

I admire the marina lights as they shimmer across the water around us. Music from another yacht suddenly gets louder – it’s a slow, almost romantic song, in French I think, that I haven’t heard before. It’s nice, but it does little to drown out my mum’s flirty giggle. If she gets any closer to Hank, she’ll be on top of him.

‘Right,’ he says. ‘No. I’ve thought about it. I can’t survive a whole week of this.’

I straighten slightly.

‘So, what do we do?’ I ask. ‘Because they’re clearly very happy together, and they think we should be too…’

‘You’ve got me thinking,’ he says. ‘Do you know what the worst part is?’

‘Honestly, there are loads of strong contenders,’ I reply.

He laughs.

‘The worst part is that they think this is working, that they can be loved up in there, that we’ll play nice out here. They’re not thinking about how uncomfortable this is making us feel, because they’re comfortable.’