It was Patricio who came to collect the first dish. His eyes widened when he came in and he saw every inch of the counter space littered with utensils, bowls, chopping boards.
‘Whoa, Mama is making a feast today!’ he exclaimed. ‘It smells magnificent in here.’ Sofia grinned, the pride swelling in her chest and driving away that persistent pearl of shame in the pit of her stomach.
‘I just thought I’d send them off with their bellies full.’ They would be docking in Gaeta that afternoon and Brian and Milly would not be eating dinner on the boat.
‘Miss Amelia is a little concerned about the four courses, but Mr Brian looks thrilled I must say.’ Patricio picked up the plates. The segments of orange intertwined with the charred fennel, topped with pomegranate seeds that caught the light like gems. ‘Bellissimo,’ he said, almost to himself.
The next three courses went out in quick succession, each replacing the pristinely clean plate that Patricio returned. Sofia was buzzing. When the crème brûlée went out and she set to cleaning up manically, she found herself worrying about the crash that was surely just around the corner. As if on cue, Petra burst through the door, a single shot glass in hand.
‘I wanted to wait until you were done. The food today, Sofia, was beautiful. They both loved it.’ Petra was also glowing with pride; Sofia was touched. ‘And now I think you deserve one of these, after the past twenty-four hours you’ve had.’ Petra handed her the glass. The vodka burned, but Sofia welcomed the numbing haze.
‘OK, we’ll have them off the boat in about an hour, and you better be ready to party. We are going hard tonight.’ Sofia remembered her earlier resignation about going out again.
Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was Petra’s infectious enthusiasm, but suddenly she couldn’t think of anything better than whiling away the night dancing to Europop. Jack would be there of course, but she supposed she would have to face him sooner or later, and a little Dutch courage might smooth the process.
Sofia headed back to the cabin and when she saw that Jack’s things were gone she was, above all, relieved. The mould expert must have come straight onto the boat as soon as it had docked. As she undressed she tried to ignore the niggling undercurrent of longing. Despite everything there was a tiny, delusional part of her that mourned his absence.
She finally had a shower. The scalding water washed away the last traces of the night before from her body. Next the sheets, which smelled of him, went into the laundry, and then her pyjamas, the ones she had worn when he offered to tend to her burn, were sent off to be boiled too. The only thing left to erase were her still-vivid memories. She had a plan for those, a plan that involved more of Petra’s vodka.
Sofia went on the hunt. When she saw Captain Mary at the top of the stairs she considered throwing herself into the nearest cupboard to avoid whatever hellish conversation she would surely have to have. But the captain spotted her, waving for her to come. Sofia was expecting a telling-off right there and then but the interaction was far more unsettling. The captain gave her a shallow smile, the type that didn’t reach her eyes.
‘It’s not really the time now, but could you come and find me in the morning, Sofia? I would like to get some things straight.’ Both women knew exactly what was being spoken about, but the polite ambiguity had the effect of sending a shiver down Sofia’s spine.
‘Of course, I’ll come up to your quarters about midday?’ Sofia matched the captain’s civil tone, throwing in a superficial smile of her own.
‘Perfect.’ A curt nod and Captain Mary was gone.If this is to be my last night onboard, I better make it one to remember, or forget,she thought wryly.
Chapter Thirty-Five
As the crew piled into the mess, Sofia noticed that Jack was not there, something she was both grateful for and keenly aware of. Every time someone came in or out of the room, she found herself unable to relax until she checked who it was.
Petra leant in close. ‘Don’t worry, I don’t think he’s coming.’
Sofia wanted to know why, but instead she said dryly, ‘I’m not worried. I’m over it, remember.’
Petra whooped, drawing attention to what had been a discreet aside. ‘That’s the spirit, girl!’
‘What are you two bambinos chattering about?’ Patricio, like Declan, was a bloodhound for gossip and the two of them crowded around the girls, leaving Stuart to sip his whisky alone at the table. He was looking a little dejected tonight, Sofia thought.
Petra gave Sofia a look, a look that begged,Can I tell them?Sofia knew it was probably a bad idea to expose her ill-advised personal life to her colleagues, but the drinking was already holding her better judgement hostage. She shrugged and then nodded.
Petra beamed. The cat who’s got the cream, or very salacious gossip. ‘Sofia, well she hooked up with Jack.’
Patricio trilled his tongue, slapping Sofia on the back with a force that left her momentarily fearing she might lose balance.
Declan was quiet, and then softly he asked, ‘Really?’ He was looking straight at Sofia. If she had thought that his feelings towards her had completely dissipated, the hurt in his eyes told another story.
She felt awful, and heard herself repeating the words that had cut her so deeply that very morning: ‘It was just sex, it didn’t mean anything.’
Declan just nodded, looking away. Sofia felt like she’d broken his heart all over again.
Noticing that the air had grown heavy, Patricio valiantly tried to recover the mood. ‘Just the sex? OK, honey, tell us all about it. Is he as good as all the ladies say?’
Sofia couldn’t help herself, dryly asking, ‘All the ladies?’
Patricio laughed, a little uneasily, his attempt at repairing some levity falling flat. ‘Well, you know, when he came back to Capri, there was always some commotion. It’s a very small island...’
Sofia wasn’t surprised. She’d heard before that Jack had a reputation. Why then did it feel like a punch in the stomach hearing Patricio talk about Jack’s salacious past?
