‘Typical man.’
He raises his eyebrows in amusement. ‘Here you go.’ He hands over a mug. Milk and one sugar, just like always.
‘Impressive memory,’ I comment.
‘Do you remember how I take mine?’ he asks.
‘Milk, two sugars.’ He grins, then I add: ‘I just saw you do it.’ I crack up laughing and step out of his way as he pretend-barges past me on his return to the cockpit.
I actuallydoremember. Of course I do. I even know that he likes two and a quarter sugars if he’s drinking his tea and eating something sweet at the same time. And you have to stir it really well, otherwise he adds more sugar anyway. But I’m not going to tell him all that. I watch as he opens the hamper.
‘Are you hungry?’ he asks.
‘A bit.’
‘I’m starving.’
‘You’re always starving, Benjamin.’ I laugh at his face and go to sit opposite him again. ‘Is that your real name – Benjamin?’
‘Only my mother calls me Benjamin.’
‘And Marco.’
‘Yes, and Marco.’ He rolls his eyes good-naturedly. ‘My nan could sometimes get away with Benji.’
‘Cute!’
He chuckles and gets out sandwiches. ‘We’ve got ham and mustard, cheese and pickle, tuna mayo . . . What do you feel like?’
‘Cheese and pickle, please.’ The boat is rocking, but I’m not feeling sick yet. I open up the aluminium foil to reveal a sandwich made on thick-cut white bread which I’m pretty sure Ben sliced himself from a loaf.
‘Did you make these yourself?’ I ask.
‘Yeah,’ he replies, a touch defensively.
We chat between mouthfuls. ‘Can you cook?’ I want to know.
He shrugs. ‘A bit – when I can be bothered. It’s not much fun when you don’t have anyone to cook for.’
‘Did you used to cook for Charlotte?’
‘Sometimes. Especially if she was late back from work or something like that.’
‘What did she do? Whatdoesshe do?’
‘She’s a financial analyst.’
‘I can never understand what that means.’
‘I won’t bore you by trying to explain. I’d probably get it wrong anyway.’
‘It sounds impressive. Is she successful?’
‘She’s good at what she does, yes.’
‘Are you still in touch with her?’
‘We speak now and again.’
