‘Right, yep, got it.’ She felt deflated. She had known it would be trying to be ‘friends’ but she hadn’t prepared herself for the bitter pang of rejection she would have to stomach every time he spoke to her as if they were nothing more than two colleagues having to put up with each other’s company. As she walked away she could feel his eyes following her, but this time he didn’t try and stop her.
Chapter Forty
She was in the citrus grove again, but it was night-time and the trees were laden with fluorescent fruit. Every time she set her sights on one and began to climb, the branches would get longer and longer, the grapefruit further and further away. Eventually she made a leap for it, lunging and snatching one from the cluster of leaves just before it grew out of reach. She landed on her back, staring up at the inky sky, the only light the glowing yellow orbs above her. As she peeled back the skin, she saw that the pith was black and smelled like sea water. It stung her fingers as she picked at it. When she bit into a plump segment, the fruit was rotten, even though the flesh looked perfectly fresh. When she spat it out her teeth came with it, bright white pearls amidst the frothy pulp, and her mouth was awash with the coppery taste of blood.
Sofia woke with a start, the cold sweat on her back prickling at her burn and the cut on her finger bleeding onto the white sheets. She checked the time: 5.06a.m. For a moment she longed to go up on deck and then she remembered that it was Jack’s time. She couldn’t face him in that strange dreamlike realm of dawn, not today.
She got up to find another plaster. In the bathroom she spotted the bottle of aloe vera, carefully placed inside the mirrored cabinet. He must have left it for her, she realised as she held it in her hand, popping the lid and sniffing at the gel. She shook her head, chastising herself. He had probably just forgotten it.
She put it back, even though her back itched, and wound a plaster around her finger. Cabinet closed, she looked at herself in the mirror. Half-moons of mauve had begun to nestle under her eyes, and her skin was dry. She needed to get more sleep. She needed to stop drinking again.
She knew she wasn’t going to go back to sleep, and she didn’t fancy another trip to the nightmarish citrus grove anyway. Maybe she could channel some of her restless energy into her recipe cards. She showered and changed and headed up to the main saloon. She was sure the guests wouldn’t be up for at least another couple of hours and she had the time before she needed to get breakfast ready.
She settled into a green velvet daybed, legs crossed, recipe cards fanned out and notebook in her lap. She lost herself in the food, imagining new combinations that clicked into place as she shuffled the cards around, a rotating kaleidoscope of tastes.
When she heard footsteps she panicked. There were a lot of people she didn’t want to see right now. When she spotted the mop of blonde hair coming up the stairs she sighed with relief. Stuart was not one of them.
‘Morning,’ she said. He seemed startled to find that the room was not empty.
‘Oh hi, Sofia, I wasn’t expecting anyone to be in here. I can leave you...’ He started to turn.
‘No, don’t worry, it’s fine. I’m just here with my imaginary friends,’ she joked, splaying her hand over the cards in front of her.
Stuart looked bewildered. ‘Like Tarot or...?’
Sofia laughed. She was in that giddy state of exhaustion, and she couldn’t stop for a moment. Stuart joined in with a tentative chuckle.
‘No.’ She wiped tears from her eyes. ‘Excuse me, I’m in a weird place.’ She pointed at her head. ‘Mentally,’ she explained. ‘They’re recipe cards.’
‘Oh, right.’ Stuart looked genuinely relieved, which made her laugh even more. When the giggles had died down, Stuart was still standing awkwardly, hands thrust into his pockets.
‘Take a seat,’ Sofia managed finally. She cleared the cards and Stuart sat down, at the furthest end of the sofa. ‘Why are you up so early anyway?’
Stuart huffed. ‘Well it’s hard not to be disturbed when Officer Carter is up with the early birds, and then the light is so bright.’
Sofia wasn’t following. ‘You mean in the cabin?’
Stuart cocked his head to one side, obviously calculating something. ‘I’m guessing that you didn’t know that he’s camping out in the captain’s quarters with me? There was more mould in our cabin as well. The guy should be coming to fend off the last of it today though.’ He yawned. ‘Thank goodness.’
Sofia didn’t know whether to feel grateful that he had saved them both from an unimaginably awkward night together, or hurt that he would rather sleep on the floor with Stuart than face her. Had he been that eager to get away after his ‘mistake’?
She noticed Stuart was still scrutinising her. ‘I know it’s probably not my place to say anything, but I think it’s best you two leave it alone. He’s not been himself since you came on board.’ Stuart said this matter-of-factly. Sofia knew he didn’t mean it to sound harsh, but she felt bruised.
‘When he was gunning for first officer, he was so focused, even after the thing with Petra.’ Stuart looked down at his lap, unable to hide the effect that saying her name always had on him. ‘He shut it down immediately when he realised it might jeopardise his chances. He was single-minded.’ Sofia hoped Stuart would stop. He didn’t. ‘But now, I don’t know, it’s like he’s lost his focus. He forgets things, makes mistakes.’
He looked up at Sofia again. ‘This thing between you, it’s messing with his head.’
It was Sofia’s turn to hang her head. ‘We’ve decided to be friends now, so... it’s over, whatever it was.’ Sofia’s voice was meek. For the second day in a row, she was starting her day with a scolding.
Stuart scoffed and Sofia was surprised by how much it stung. ‘Friends? Yes, I’ve heard that one before, believe me. That won’t stop him from turning everything over and over and over in his head. If anything it just makes everything even more confusing.’
It dawned on Sofia then, that he was no longer talking about Jack, and maybe he never had been. There was too much emotion in his voice, too much involvement. ‘Is that how you feel about Petra?’ Sofia asked so quietly, it was barely a whisper. She dared to glance up at him.
He was taken aback. It amused Sofia to think about how subtle men often believed they were being.
‘Petra?’ he spluttered. Sofia nodded. ‘What, has she said something to you?’ Now she was the one with the valuable insight.
‘I mean, she’s told me that you two are... good friends,’ Sofia said coyly. Stuart blushed, and she was emboldened to say more.
