‘No thank you. And do not even think about blackmailing him, okay? Do you promise?’
Emir blinks in a very non-committal way.
‘Promise?’ I try again.
‘I’m hungry.’
He is a forty-year-old trapped in a child’s body. He’s shrewd. He’s clever. He’s cute as a button but, like his grandmother warned, I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could throw him. As soon as we approach the dining areas, both the indoor and the al fresco one, it is clear that Astrid and the newly arrived Garry are under pressure. They need my help. I do a quick sweep of the diners and spot Emir’s Widow Twanky grandmother sitting alone. ‘Go and join your grandmother for lunch. I’ll bring over your koftas and salad. And don’t forget to return her gold Rolex.’
I hold the watch out to him. He regards me for a moment and says simply, ‘No salad.’
‘Yes, salad. These aren’t UN peace negotiations.’
‘Then no watch.’
‘Whatever.’ I stuff the watch back in my pocket. I’m probably better off returning it to her myself. As I lead Emir over to her, she doesn’t exactly look thrilled to see him. ‘Hi, I’m Maddie. We met earlier. I’m looking after your grandson during this trip. I thought he could keep you company while I serve lunch.’
She glances with some trepidation from me to Emir.
I feel Emir’s grip tighten on my hand. ‘It’ll be a fantastic opportunity for Emir to tell you what he’s been up to. Now, what can I get you both?’ To prevent her from rejecting the offer, I am talking so quickly and smiling so widely that my cheeks actually hurt.
‘The table service here is terrible,’ she says, tutting loudly, barely acknowledging Emir as he slides onto the seat beside her.
‘That’s because it is self-service, but no one seems quite able to manage it for some strange reason.’ I repeat my question. ‘So, would you like me to bring a selection of buffet foods over to you? And how about some more drinks?’
The old woman contemplates my offer, and her face softens into a begrudging smile. ‘Yes, please.’ She turns to Emir and while she asks him if he is excited to be on the boat, I slip away to help out.
‘About effing time,’ snorts Garry Gee. I glare at him. There is simply no need for this level of rudeness.
‘What is your problem? Would you prefer me to go back to babysitting, and leave you and Astrid to it?’
He relents a fraction. ‘No. Just pull your weight, that’s all.’
The cheek!I’m so riled up I can’t even speak. As I stomp over to the buffet, I vow to report him to head office for unprofessional conduct. I load up a couple of plates with lamb koftas, adding the salad in an act of defiance. I am sick of men and boys dictating to me. If only there could be a global movement to force the male population to treat females with respect… or even (crazy thought alert) as their equals.
I put the plates down in front of Emir and his grandmother. Emir looks on aghast but before he opens his mouth I say, ‘Eat the salad or we won’t go snorkelling to the forbidden island this afternoon.’
‘Forbidden island?’
I nod. ‘They say there are ancient monsters that lurk in the sacred waters, guarding the treasure. You have to be very brave, very strong and very full of salad. The monsters hate salad.’
His little mouth makes a perfect round shape as his eyes fill with excitement. ‘Do these monsters eat humans?’
‘Oh, yes. They’re vicious. But they can’t eat you if you are full of salad.’
‘And I get to kill them? And steal the treasure?’
So feral. So caveman-like.
‘Uh-huh. You sure do.’
He begins stabbing at the salad and forking it into his mouth. As I turn to leave, his grandmother gives me a tiny nod of respect.
* * *
After an hour of rushing back and forth, serving drinks, food, desserts and more drinks, finally Tiffany and Shaun rock up giggling away as they haul crates of wine on board from the speedboat. They do not look like they rushed to get back. The telltale sign is a smudge of what looks like pizza sauce on Shaun’s top and Tiffany’s skirt is twisted sideways. I notice her lips have a blue tinge, so they clearly took time out to sample a bottle of the expensive wine while they were at it.
Astrid is behind the bar, clearly unimpressed. I go over to explain how I’ve taken a record of who drank what. ‘I’ve numbered the tables like a three by four grid starting at the end of the boat in the covered section. I’ve written down what each table have ordered over the course of the lunch, okay? It should make it easier to tot up how much each person has consumed.’ She stares blankly at me. ‘How do you normally do it?’
