Page 12 of Escape to the Sun

Hannah peered at Millie’s painting. She’d gone abstract, setting the still life on a raft placed directly in the ocean. The girl’s unbridled imagination reminded Hannah of her little brother – he loved drawing, too, with his superbly sharpened pencils, although he preferred the detailed accuracy of buildings, with added prehistoric creatures. A Pterodactyl, maybe a Spinosaurus.

‘I’m a bit worried about your oranges,’ Hannah said, leaning across and pointing to the blobs of colour on the raft. ‘If they roll into the ocean the shark might eat them.’

Millie giggled, then recovered herself, deadpanning as she said, ‘Sharks don’t like oranges. They prefer pineapples.’

‘Or people,’ Hannah said, a light shudder spidering its way down her spine.

‘Apparently there were less than fifty shark attacks on people last year in the whole of the world – only about six were fatal. I looked it up,’ Millie said, her expression remaining serious. ‘Sharks get a really bad press.’

‘I still don’t fancy sharing space with them,’ Hannah said.

Millie leant towards her canvas, swirling more cerulean blue into her seascape as she said, ‘That’s why dolphins are so epic; they keep the sharks away.’

‘Do they?’

But Millie’s attention was lost in her ocean scene and Hannah glanced at her own work, still only at the pencil sketching stage and lacking the freedom of expression shown in Millie’s painting. Before she could decide to do anything about changing hers up, Hannah became aware of a third person closing in on their painting party. Wearing a distinctive white shirt with black and gold bits on the shoulders, Captain Louis King imposed himself on her space.

Was he going to praise her for finding someone to spend some time with? Or congratulate her for being out of her cabin without falling apart because she was cruising on her own?

Was she being, maybe, a touch melodramatic?

Too late to formulate answers to any of those questions, she realised, but not for the frown to embed itself onto her forehead as he approached.

‘Hello – it is Hannah, isn’t it?’ he said. ‘You came to visit the bridge?’

Hannah supposed there was no reason for him to remember her any more clearly – apart from being the sad woman he’d felt sorry for because she was taking her honeymoon trip alone. He’d probably had dozens of more interesting people visiting the bridge since she had. But his features were as vivid in her memory as they now were in the flesh. Yes, he was still tall, his gaze still heavy-lidded and with a focus that made her feel as though she was the only person in the room.

‘Oh, hello – yes. Thank you for showing me around the other day. Very interesting.’

‘This is your work?’ he said, gaze moving to her drawing.

Hannah felt colour blooming from her neck, threatening to invade her cheeks. ‘It is.’

‘It’s really good, isn’t it?’ Millie piped up, her paintbrush passing dangerously close to the bright white cotton of his shirt as she turned to address him. ‘Hannah’s an excellent artist. Don’t you think?’

Millie stared at him intently until he began to nod.

‘Thanks, Millie,’ Hannah said. ‘So are you.’

‘Yeah. Right. My waves look like my gran’s hair when she’s fresh out of the hairdresser’s. Not that her hair is blue – it’s like a silvery-grey, but you know what I mean.’

Millie bumped her paintbrush up, round and down to emphasise the shape of her gran’s curls, the captain taking a step back as blue paint splattered the studio floor.

‘Oops,’ Millie said, turning to search for April. ‘Maybe I should get some tissue or something. Clean up the mess.’ Scrambling to her feet, she lodged the brush on her easel and wandered away.

‘Nice kid,’ the captain said. He pulled in a breath and brought his gaze back to her. ‘Listen, I just wanted to— The other day I was rather— I just wanted to say I didn’t invite you to visit the bridge out of some sense of…’

He tailed off, and Hannah felt herself bristling all over again. Forcing down her desire to tell him where to stick his well-meant but ill-expressed sentiment, she did her best to unpick her resident frown and swap the expression for one full of carefree abandon.

‘Don’t worry about it, Captain. It was very kind of you to invite me to look around – and I loved meeting your cat. But you don’t need to give my presence on your ship another thought. I might be cruising alone, but I still intend to have a wonderful time.’

She almost added ‘without any help from you’. Being intentionally rude had never come easily to Hannah, and although it could be argued she had extenuating circumstances that excused a bit of bad behaviour, she buttoned down the words and did her best to smile at him. Wondered why she felt the need to treat him with such negativity, when he was being so friendly and agreeable. It wasn’t his fault her fiancé had slept with another woman, was it?

‘Well, that’s excellent news. If there’s anything I can do – anything any of the crew can do to help make your cruise exceed your expectations, please don’t hesitate to ask.’

‘That’s very kind of you,’ Hannah repeated, wondering how best to end their awkward interaction. Abruptly she stood, her unexpected action sending him a step or two backwards, towards Millie’s easel.

She swallowed. He was very tall. Taller than she remembered. Hannah liked tall men. She batted away the thought and, for want of something better to do, extended a hand for him to shake – a strangely formal gesture that seemed, once she’d done it, completely random. The warmth of his hand around hers and the firmness of the shake had Hannah taking a deep breath, smiling again, fleetingly, before she retook her seat.