Joy leant forward and placed a hand over Sofia’s, which were fidgeting in her lap. ‘Look at me, Sofia.’ She waited until Sofia dragged her eyes up. ‘Don’t let anyone dim your light, Sofia, and don’t let any distractions get in the way of becoming who you want to be.’
Sofia had not been able to hold back the tears then. Joy had patted her on the shoulder before leaving her alone. In the dream, the tears began to pool at her feet, and then the room began to fill with water, salty water. Before long she was up to her waist, and the tears would not stop flowing. Eventually she was lying on her back, staring at the ceiling as the water kept rising, pushing her nose up against the plaster until she was completely submerged.
Sofia did not awake in a panic; instead she felt a weighty sense of calm. The cabin was rocking with the waves. She wiped away the single tear running down her cheek. She rolled over, shut her eyes once again and this time was welcomed by a deep, empty slumber.
Chapter Twelve
Sofia woke up determined she would not let herself be disheartened. By 6a.m. she was in the kitchen, flipping through her recipe cards and notebook, designing a whole new menu. The crew would be having lobster tonight and Milly and Brian would get their carb-heavy comfort food. She could adapt.
By the time Petra poked her head through the door at 7.30a.m., Sofia was confident she had a plan to cover all the meals until they docked in Capri and she could get more supplies.
‘Oh good, you’re here. I was worried when I saw your cabin empty.’
‘Yeah I was this close to throwing myself overboard last night.’
Petra looked at her with such genuine concern that she couldn’t keep a straight face and cracked into a grin.
‘Oh I see, well I’m glad you’ve recovered your sense of humour.’ Petra chuckled, and then tentatively asked, ‘Are you good to go?’
‘Got a whole new menu, not a crustacean in sight!’ Sofia could hear her voice was verging on the manic. She took a moment and composed herself. ‘But on a serious note, Petra, thanks so much for last night, I really needed a friend, and it’s...’ she suddenly felt shy ‘...it’s really lovely to know that I have someone on this job who has my back.’
‘Don’t mention it. We managed to cobble together a burger, and they bloody loved it.’
Sofia groaned. ‘After all that, all they wanted was a burger?’
Petra slapped her on the back playfully. ‘I told you that these VIPs never have the refined tastes they think they do!’ With a wink she was off.
The next couple of days passed without incident, Sofia was getting back in touch with the simpler dishes in her repertoire, the things she would often cook for herself, or for friends: casseroles, pasta, steak frites, Wellington. She noticed that Brian no longer lunged at the sight of the afternoon snack and felt bad for having essentially starved him for two days. It can’t have been easy to sustain all six foot four of him on a diet of cheese scones and finger sandwiches.
The crew meanwhile were feasting like kings – all the shellfish had to go somewhere. Sofia began to enjoy their dinners together. Once she tuned out Jack’s cocky interjections, she found herself joking easily with the captain, Petra and Declan of course, and even Stuart.
‘I honestly don’t think I ever even knew what a fish out of batter looked like until I left Glasgow.’ Stuart was regaling the table. It was late and he had produced a bottle of whisky from his cabin. It was the night before they would be docking in Capri, and everyone was looking forward to some time away from the guests.
‘Don’t you guys deep-fry Mars Bars?’ Petra was flushed pink, and she was giggling a little too enthusiastically every time Stuart spoke, much to Sofia’s amusement.
‘Aye,’ he said, ‘I’ll have to give you a masterclass in the fine cuisine of the deep fryer sometime,’ he told Sofia. ‘I’m sure Miss Amelia would love a bit of battered sausage.’
Sofia couldn’t help but laugh, and the rest of the crew joined in. Petra was on the brink of tears. It seemed that a little Dutch, or perhaps Scotch, courage had brought Stuart out of his shell, and he seemed thrilled with his temporary role as court jester, blushing his deep shade of crimson every time he caught sight of Petra enjoying herself.
‘Anybody for a top-up?’ He passed the bottle around the table.
Sofia declined, as did Jack, she noticed, who had been strangely quiet all evening.
‘Not much of a drinker, are you, Sofia?’ Stuart noted.
Sofia hated this conversation, especially with other Brits, there was always an assumption that people had the right to know what had ‘gone wrong’ for you to make such a dramatic decision.
‘Not really, I er, used to be.’ And there it was. A concerned hush fell around the table, as though everyone was waiting for her to begin her AA testimony. ‘Not like, you know, an alcoholic, but there was a lot of drinking at my old job and I just wanted to start afresh a bit, you know?’
The faces looking back at her didn’t convince her that they did know, apart from Jack’s, which was both sincere and devoid of pity. She found herself looking at him a little too long, and they both looked away suddenly after a moment.
‘Fair enough,’ was all Stuart could muster. ‘Anybody else?’
‘Pass it here.’ Declan didn’t seem like he needed any more, but Stuart was pleased to have a companion.
‘That’s my boy,’ said Stuart cheerfully as he poured an alarmingly large measure into Declan’s glass.
‘Don’t overdo it, Dec,’ warned Jack. ‘Remember that you and I will be taking the guests out on that boat trip tomorrow, so it’s not entirely a rest day for us.’
