Page 20 of Escape to the Sun

‘Parrots. Are you even listening to me?’

‘Of course I am. Are you enjoying yourself so far?’ Ruth realised she was desperate for Millie to give her a definite affirmation of happiness. Almost felt the prick of tears as she waited for her reply.

‘You mean apart from having to share the cabin with Nathan?’

‘I mean all of it, Mils. Coming away on this holiday. Being with me and Nathan and trying to—’ Ruth caught the rest of the words in the back of her throat, trapping them before they spilled out, and she demanded far too much of her baby girl. Stopped before she insisted on knowing Millie was happy and had forgotten about the terrible time they’d all endured; that she wasn’t in the least bit upset her father couldn’t be bothered with her – past sticking some money in an envelope for her birthday and Christmas. Stopped before she insisted that Millie tell her she was OK, because Ruth couldn’t cope with it if she wasn’t, she was already so full up with worry about Nathan.

Millie took her time answering, time which hung like a spectre as Ruth bit back tears. In the end, Millie didn’t say anything – which was unusual for a daughter who liked to talk almost as much as she did – instead, she slipped her hand into her mother’s and squeezed.

‘I love you, Mum.’

Ruth’s throat tightened as she squeezed back and tried fruitlessly to reply, before she sucked in a big lungful of air and changed the subject.

Hannah was finishing a coffee at a little café facing the glittering water of the port when a message made her mobile vibrate. She only noticed it because she’d slipped it into her shorts rather than shoving it into her bag. Was annoyed at herself as she pulled it from the pocket to scrutinise the details.

So much for being good at ignoring the temptation to look.

But it could be anyone, not just Ian. And he’d already messaged and sent a voicemail today, so she didn’t believe it would be him. Not again. He must surely be getting the hint by now, Hannah thought. She hadn’t replied to any of his communications except to send him a text on the second day telling him she was fine, was having a great time on the cruise she’d paid for, and she wasn’t missing his lousy cheating arse at all.

Thoughts of Ian slipped from her mind as she began to grin. The voice message was from Millie – they’d swapped numbers when they’d bonded over cerulean blue in the art studio – and she was asking when Hannah intended to do some more work to her painting. And could she join her? Because she’d spent all day with Nathan and she couldn’t take any more of his ‘melty’ behaviour, plus her mum wanted a bit of time on her own, Millie could tell even though she hadn’t said anything, and she thought her mum might like to have a swim in the ship’s pool, or enjoy a Christmas-themed cocktail in the bar or something. That they were heading back to the ship shortly anyway because her mum was worried Nathan might get left behind otherwise, even though, apparently, he was being rather militant about the idea. As expected, Millie’s message rambled on with a charming lack of filter.

Hannah checked her watch, then typed a quick reply, giving Millie a time to meet that allowed herself enough leeway to wander back to the ship and stop by her cabin before heading to the art gallery.

Pushing her mobile away, Hannah leant back in her chair, taking a few further seconds to admire the view. From her table, dressed with a delicate lace cloth and a small bunch of flowers in a glass vase holding down the menu card, she could watch the world wandering past.

This part of the port was pedestrianised, and she assumed many of the people she was watching had probably come off the Ballygowan. But beyond the wandering tourists there were people at work, the melee of a working port meaning there was activity far beyond the casual. A tangle of voices and actions, the choreography of a dance impossible to learn, but unfolding right in front of her.

It was the same in the deli back home, she supposed. Most of the customers were like the wandering tourists, with time and money on their hands. Deciding what kind of coffee or cake to have as they sat and chatted, or choosing between the award-winning selection of salamis her father was so proud of. But the mechanics of the shop meant nobody working there had time to stand still or relax. The trick was to make it look easy, like there was all the time in the world for the dithery customer who couldn’t decide which cheese to buy.

And when Hannah had told her parents she was still taking the cruise even though she was no longer getting married…? She could feel the barely contained anger radiating from her father, the disappointment from her mother even less hidden. They had been looking forward to the wedding, the registry office booked, her mother’s new dress had been hanging in her wardrobe for months. They loved Ian – he’d been a fixture in all their lives for so long and somehow, even after his betrayal, Hannah hadn’t the heart to tell her parents exactly why she’d called the wedding off. Some kind of twisted loyalty to all of them meant she hadn’t been able to paint him in such poor light.

Instead, she had made up something which, if she thought about it, made it sound more as though she was the one at fault. That it had been her indecision, or panic, it was her failing that had meant the dress hanging in her mother’s wardrobe wouldn’t be required after all.

It occurred to Hannah, as she stood from the table at the little café, that it might not only have been Ian she was running away from.

Back on the ship, Hannah intended to grab a quick shower before she headed for the gallery. An envelope greeted her arrival. Another invitation to the bridge.

Another invitation to the bridge…

This time, rather than her bizarre imaginings about a pirate captain, or walking the plank, or worrying about making it out of the cabin without dying of embarrassment or loneliness, Hannah grinned. Her grin widened when she realised it had been signed off by the ship’s cat, Portus.

When Hannah reached the art gallery, Millie was already there. It was clear Millie had also received an invitation. Her eyes glittered, her expression blossoming into a huge smile when she saw Hannah.

‘We’ve been invited to visit⁠—’

‘The bridge?’

‘The bridge!’

They spoke at the same time, Millie’s excitement barely contained.

‘How did you know?’ Millie added, a look of suspicion laced with conspiratorial glee flashing across her features.

Hannah pulled her card out of her bag. ‘I got one as well.’

‘Awesome! When shall we go?’ Millie’s fists balled with excitement. ‘I cannot wait to meet Portus.’

‘He’s very cool,’ Hannah said.