‘And to think you’ve been looking down on me like some sort of dirty tramp when you’re at it with the first rich Turk you come across.’
I can feel myself redden. ‘It was absolutely not like that. I was up playing cards. And I haven’t been looking down on you. If anything, I’ve protected you from?—’
‘You looked steaming drunk to me. Banging into things, tripping over, you could barely stand up straight. And you put the bloody bathroom light on.’ This is developing into quite the list. She’s got her hands on her hips and a smug attitude. ‘That’s why I put my earplugs in and my eye mask on. Give me some warning the next time you stay up late “playing cards”.’
I am not doing myself any favours by engaging in this conversation because she’s probably not interested in the truth.
‘I think you’ll find my stumbling was thanks to all the mess you leave lying around. There’s no floor space to walk on. No wonder I tripped up and fell into bed.’ I lower my voice. ‘And this is the thanks I get for being discreet about your… erm, affair… with Shaun?’
She has the cheek to hold her hand to her mouth as though I hadn’t caught them at it multiple times. She leans further over the bar towards me, so that she’s barely audible. ‘It’s complicated. We were together for a long time before he cheated on me with Tiff.’
Oh.
Astrid calms significantly as though her energy is draining and looks me square in the eye. I’m not sure how to respond.
‘So, Tiffany is the one in the wrong?’
‘Not really. Like I say,’ Astrid says in a dejected tone before walking away. ‘It’s complicated.’
* * *
A few miles out to sea and the water is incredibly calm. The guests are milling about on deck as I man the bar downstairs, mostly serving apple teas and coffee, while also playing chess with Emir, who is happily perched on a high stool at the end of the bench. Astrid is manning the bar on the top deck and Shaun and Tiffany are on room-cleaning and towel-changing duty until lunch. Garry must be ‘doing’ the accounts or whatever he does while we are doing actual jobs. I will have to try and sneak away later to finish packing and, of course, I must return the contraband.
Mehmet sneaks up behind Emir and tickles him under the arms, causing a few chess pieces to fly off the board. As he bends to pick them up, he asks me how I’m feeling today. Mehmet is giving me a rather adoring look. I hope he’s not one of those sapiosexuals, attracted to a woman’s intellect instead of her curves. I can do without any complications.
‘I have a tiredness headache. Like someone is drilling for oil in there.’
Mehmet laughs. ‘It was a pretty competitive night, for sure. I should have put money on you winning. You became like a machine.’
‘Did I?’ I fake laugh. Ho-ho-ho.Christ.After that third game I became single-mindedly determined to figure the strategy out. Some might say annoyingly obsessive, eliminating family members from the game with ruthless efficiency. It was quite the evening, and I think I went up in everyone’s estimations. I stare dazedly at him. ‘Coffee?’
‘Yes, please. Strong. Black. Four… no, five sugars.’
I can see where Emir gets his sugar addiction from. I flit about pouring the tar-like liquid into beautifully designed, espresso-size porcelain cups specifically crafted for Turkish coffee. They take their artisanal coffee very seriously here. It’s more of a cultural experience than simply a hot beverage to perk you up. I place the cup on a matching, intricately patterned saucer and slide it gently towards him.
‘Thank you. So, uh, what are your plans for today?’
‘Just working and playing chess,’ I say as brightly as I can. ‘Whatever the boss wants.’ I point my thumb towards Emir, who is delighted with this new job title.
‘Okay. Great. Emir, how would you like to go on a jet ski with me?’
Emir squeals with delight.
I wipe my hands on my apron and slip it over my head. ‘Certainly. I’ll sort that out, no problem. Would you like to take over playing the game while I pop downstairs to arrange things for you?’
‘The jet ski has room for three people?’ Mehmet asks hopefully, a flirty glint in his eye.
‘Yes. Yes, it does.’
‘Very good. Then you can accompany us too,’ he says, high-fiving Emir as though I’ve already agreed.
‘I’d love to,’ I say, making excuses. ‘But I’m so busy. Maybe it’s best you two do it alone. Garry has me on clean up again.’And my heart is taken.
‘I don’t think Garry will be bothering you any more.’ Mehmet sits back and folds his arms.
My stomach lurches. ‘Erm, meaning?’ But Mehmet taps the side of his nose conspiratorially.
This family!
