‘Tell me about it.’ Petra did not look like herself. She was pale and she seemed jumpy. ‘I’m really stressed about this Stuart situation,’ she blurted.
Sofia put down her pen. ‘Have you guys talked about it?’
‘God no, I’d rather die. Did you see the vibes at breakfast? Abominable!’ So it had been good old-fashioned tension Sofia had felt, and not the sexual variety. She felt a pang of pity for Stuart.
‘Well to be honest I think it’s best to just shut it down. He obviously likes you, but workplace stuff – it’s always complicated and everything will be much simpler if you just try and stay friends.’ Sofia was talking to Petra, but she was also talking to herself. It all sounded so reasonable when she said it out loud and part of her wished she’d had someone say this to her at Nakachwa, before everything went wrong.
Then again, she probably wouldn’t have listened.
Petra looked deflated. ‘I guess you’re right. It’s not like... I like him or anything, but he’s so sweet and the idea of blowing him off seems so cruel, like kicking a puppy.’
‘It’s got to be done, Petra, before he gets the wrong idea.’ She had been the puppy once, and although she knew it wasn’t nice being kicked, she hoped Petra might have a bit more tact. ‘Sorry, Petra, I have to get this list to Declan.’ Sofia put a steady hand on her shoulder and waited until Petra looked up. ‘You got this.’
Petra rolled her eyes, ‘Yeah OK, I’m not going to war, just gotta kick a puppy.’ Petra took a deep breath and the two of them split off in opposite directions, geared up for the tasks at hand.
Sofia found Declan standing outside the captain’s quarters on the top deck. The pair were laughing. Declan didn’t seem to have any problem making friends on board. When he spotted her he waved and walked over. She handed him the list.
‘Oh no, you’re not getting away with it that easy. I’ll be needing some guidance; I don’t know what half this stuff is.’
Sofia was not impressed. She was functioning on very little sleep and she had to start thinking about dinner. ‘You don’t know what...’ she glanced down at the list ‘...an onion is?’
Declan laughed. ‘Nah that’s not fair – I obviously know what an onion is but, man, I don’t know the difference between—’ he pointed ‘—a sirloin and a bavette steak.’
‘Well can’t you just ask?’
‘Don’t speak Italian, mate,’ he said. Sofia was finding his wide grin more and more irritating. ‘I was going to go with Jack but he’s got some family stuff or something to sort out. I’m not really sure what, so it’s you and me. At least you’ll know what this stuff looks like, then we can just point.’
It was clear to Sofia that she was doomed to have ever more tedious chores to do that day. She had resolved to be a helpful and friendly team player, and she sort of owed Jack one.
‘OK fine, but we need to keep it moving. I have to be back in time to get dinner ready.’
Chapter Twenty-One
Most of the supplies had been ordered beforehand, but since Sofia had had to change her menu considerably, there were some things that had to be bought at the market. Sofia was tired and grumpy and trying to hide it. In the taxi Declan was chatting idly, and Sofia was glad that he seemed to be quite happy soliloquising with very little input from her.
In her head she had envisioned a quaint collection of stalls, piled with fresh produce and a cacophony of vendors selling their wares. When they pulled up at what looked like the Amalfi Coast’s answer to a trading estate she was confused. The squat sprawling building in front of her was steel grey.
Declan leant forward and asked the taxi driver if he was sure that this was the address. His response suggested that he had little patience for Brits, especially ones who questioned his sense of direction on an island that measured no more than four square miles. They got out of the car and wandered towards what looked like a ticket office in the side of the building.
‘Ricezione, that’s gotta be reception right?’ Who needed Jack’s Italian anyway? Sofia thought.
‘Hola,’ said Declan brightly to the woman behind the glass. She might have been the sort of person who always looked resolutely unimpressed, but the Spanish didn’t help.
Sofia shot Declan a look. ‘Sorry, he means, ummmciao.’
‘Dammit, yeah that’s the one.’
The woman sighed audibly. ‘Inglesi?’
‘Si!’ Sofia held out hope that she could retire her guidebook Italian.
‘Hai una lista?’ The woman was no longer looking at them, but typing lazily on her computer.
‘List! Yes we do, um, here you go.’ She fumbled in her pockets and pulled out the crumpled list, flattening it hastily between her palms before sliding it under the glass. The woman sighed again, tearing her eyes away from the screen to look down at the yellowing notepad sheet.
‘Trenta minuti.’ Sofia and Declan looked at her blankly. ‘Thirty minutes,’ she said in near-perfect English. Sofia felt that they were being tested, and they had both failed miserably. She held two thumbs up.
‘Grazie!’ Declan and Sofia wandered over to a low wall in the shade and sat down side by side.
