We felt the men in white pull on the brakes and sprang back as we rolled down the final part of the run. Traditional Madeiran villas with colourful tiled walls were now dotted in among the buildings in yellow and pink, as the centre of Funchal appeared. Brooke and Zach were brushing themselves off on the side of the road and Leo pulled his arm back to resume business mode and somehow caught my necklace on his sleeve. I felt it snap and tried to grab it but ended up holding the delicate chain and watching in horror as my beloved liver bird flew off behind us into a thicket of bushes.
‘No!!!’ I shouted, as the Carreiros Morris dancers screeched to a stop and I jumped out, running back to where I thought it had fallen.
‘What’s happened?’ Leo called.
‘My necklace, my Liverpool necklace…’ I cried, already knowing it was lost forever. There was no chance of finding a tiny pendant in that huge hedge – assuming it had even landed in there.
‘Oh no, I’m so sorry,’ Leo said, scanning the road helplessly, as toboggan after toboggan flew by. ‘Was that me?’
I shook my head. No point playing the blame game. It wasn’t anybody’s fault; it had just happened. Probably more my fault for sitting so close to him. Passers-by were staring at the ground as they walked past, trying to work out what we were looking for, and I clutched my hand to my neck, feeling naked without my lucky liver bird to keep me safe.
‘Can you get another one?’
I shook my head again. Mum and Dad had bought it for my eighth birthday, and it was my most precious possession. ‘They were a limited edition – only a hundred ever made and I had number eight. My lucky number. It’s irreplaceable.’
Nineteen
Thursday 1st July
Dahlia blew hard on her whistle and everyone in the pool stopped and turned.
‘Good morning, cruisers!’ she shouted, passing a ball between her hands. ‘Who wants to play some VOLLEYBALL?’ She beamed as if she’d offered everyone a plate of free cocaine. The sporty-looking types cheered while the normal people –my people– slithered to the edge of the pool and made a sharp exit.
Leo, Zach and I were watching from the sidelines, hoping to get away with observing from afar this time. It was on the schedule, but we didn’t need to physicallyplayto engage with the idea. It was much better to view the experience from above, like an omnipresent creative force. Take it all in while enjoying a frappe or two. The relentless hum ofEsmeralda’s engine pitched up a notch as Dahlia put the owners of abs and bikini bodies into teams. She did a head count then furrowed her delicate brow and checked her clipboard.
‘Uh-oh,’ Leo said, under his breath, as she scanned the sunbeds, then the bar, and then stopping when she got to us. ‘Busted.’
The three of us looked in every direction but hers as she tried to get our attention and I took a slurp of my iced coffee. Then the shrill sound of her whistle made us jump.
‘Kat, Leo, Zach! You’re on my list!’
‘What’s that?’ Zach called, while I took another mouthful.
‘In the pool please, guys. Let’s go!’
Zach reluctantly stood up and Leo pulled off his T-shirt. The two of them couldn’t have been more different. Zach was a hairy bear, covered in tattoos, with the stomach of Winnie the Pooh and the dress sense of Rupert. Whereas Leo was smooth, muscular and in perfect proportion; he clearly looked after himself and didn’t mind everyone knowing it.
‘We’d rather watch if that’s OK,’ I tried, knowing it was too late to negotiate.
‘Not OK, no. I need you to make up the numbers, otherwise there aren’t enough players.’
I inwardly groaned.
‘Where’s Heidi?’ Leo asked, his naked chest distracting me. I looked away, willing myself not to blush.
‘Erm… she sends her apologies.’ She couldn’t be bothered but I wasn’t going to tell them that – even though they already knew.
‘Allergic to water, now, is she?’ Zach said, then bombed into the pool, soaking the front row of sunbathers.
I was wearing my one-piece for maximum coverage but hadn’t reckoned on doing any sports when I bought it. Thisplace was starting to feel like a boot camp, but with thirteen pairs of eyes on me and Dahlia threatening to blow the whistle again, opting out wasn’t an option.
‘Just a second,’ I called, peeling off my very elasticated jumpsuit.
Thank God I’d shaved my legs so closely in the Azores. There wasn’t enough space to do them in our ‘en suite’ – which seemed ridiculous when we were on a thousand-foot boat. I’d have to do them in the changing room showers later. I put my swimming cap on and shimmied into the pool, shuddering as cold water crept into every crevice. I loathed swimwear and hated team sports, so all in all this was my idea of hell.
‘Leo, take a blue bib, Kat and Zach, you’re with the reds.’
‘I’m not very good I’m afraid,’ I whispered, already worried about letting the team down.
