The Secret Cove in Croatia. Julie Caplin

at her coffee, regretting the impulse to drown her sorrows with a ridiculously expensive cappuccino.

      ‘Dear God,’ drawled an upper-class voice as someone sat down behind her. ‘What a chav. What was Henry thinking?’

      ‘What? That girl that’s just been in? I thought she was in fancy dress. You know, Toulouse-Lautrec.’

      Maddie clutched the felt beret on her lap under the table.

      ‘He was doing a friend a favour. He told me when he put the appointment in the diary.’

      ‘Did he take her on? Surely not. God, the gallery would be going downhill fast.’

      ‘Don’t think so. By the look of her when she left, I think he sent her out with a flea in her ear. I could have told him when she turned up he was wasting his time. I mean, seriously, did you hear the way she spoke?’

      The other girl let out a peal of laughter. ‘Common as muck.’

      ‘Shh, you can’t say things like that now. It’s not PC. I’m not sure you’re even allowed to say chav any more.’

      Both girls laughed with malicious superiority as Maddie flushed, feeling the heat in her cheeks. She probably looked like an overripe Christmas elf. Picking up her beret, she crammed it firmly onto her head and turned around. One of the girls looked up and at least had the grace to start, her mouth opening in a gasp.

      ‘Thing about chavs,’ said Maddie conversationally, ‘is that they have no class, speak their minds and don’t take crap from supercilious, stuck-up bitches like you two. Not all of us were born into money and, quite frankly, if that’s how you talk about people, you need to go back to school and learn some manners. You should be ashamed of yourselves.’

      Pleased with the way both girls sat there gawping like a pair of guppies, she sailed out of the coffee bar with her head held high.

      Unfortunately, having the last word didn’t change the fact that she had failed at her one and only shot at actually getting through the doors of a gallery in London and used up her only useful contact.

      Maddie glared up at the departures board at Euston. Another two hours before her cheap fare train departed. Back to Birmingham and another conversation with her mum about another failed job interview. Maddie hadn’t actually told anyone, apart from Professor Gregory, what she was really doing in London.

      Sighing, she scrolled through her WhatsApp feed.

      Urgent. Urgent. Urgent. Do you still need a job?

      It’s temporary but it’s in Europe and they’re desperate. Call me. Nx

      The message from her friend, Nina, made her smile. They’d met in Paris while Maddie was on her year of study abroad and, with so much in common, had quickly become firm friends. Both came from big families and, like Nina, Maddie was one of five, and while they missed being part of a community, they didn’t necessarily miss the demands of their families.

      The key word in the brief message was Europe. A siren call. Maddie longed to get as far away from home as possible. Since her time in France last year, she just didn’t feel like she fitted in any more.

      ‘OK, what’s the deal?’ she asked as Nina picked up the phone on the first ring. ‘Where in Europe? And what? Grape-picking?’

      ‘Something much classier.’ Nina’s voice bristled with that ta-da excitement. ‘It’s Croatia.’

      ‘Did you just sneeze?’

      ‘Very funny. No, seriously. Nick phoned Sebastian half an hour ago. He’s going on this amazing holiday with his new girlfriend; a bunch of them are chartering a yacht … but the girl that was going to work on board as a hostess dropped out yesterday and they go in three days’ time. All you have to do is a bit of cleaning and cooking. Basically looking after the guests. And there are only six of them.’

      ‘I’m your girl,’ said Maddie without hesitation, despite the fact that she’d never been on a boat in her life, unless you counted the pedalo in Tenerife that time. Thanks to a bit of tuition from Nina’s chef boyfriend, Sebastian, she’d learned a lot in six months. Her cooking skills had come on loads, for someone whose repertoire once consisted of nothing more than shepherd’s pie and Lancashire hotpot. Besides, didn’t everyone on holiday live on salads and ice cream?

      Nina squealed. ‘Brilliant. You need to phone this Croatian guy. I’ll WhatsApp his number. Oh, you’re going to have such a great time. Two and a half weeks in Croatia! I’m quite jealous.’

      Maddie squealed back. ‘That’s so cool. Thanks so much, Nina. And I can’t wait to meet your brother. I feel like I know him already.’

       Chapter 3

       Croatia

      ‘Whoa.’ Maddie dropped her duffel bag on the quayside. Everyone who’d told her to expect conditions to be cramped, with no room to swing a goldfish, had not got the right memo. This boat was big. She yanked her phone out from her pocket and checked the name on the back of the boat with the details on her phone. Nope, this was definitely it – Avanturista, Split.

      This was where she was spending the next couple of weeks? Well, hello, gorgeous boat and thank you very much. She did a little jig on the spot. In her natty outfit of blue striped Breton T-shirt and red Capri pants – well, she thought it was natty, although the Capri pants were an awful lot more tomatoey than she remembered when she’d bought them.

      She took a quick picture of the boat and began typing a caption.

      Nina, seriously, babe. Look at this boat! It’s humungous. I love you. Thanks so much for getting me the gig. Now I’m doubly glad I paid attention to all those cooking lessons. Can you remember when we first met? I was the queen of nursery food and burnt cakes and now look at me. Can’t wait to meet your bro. Maddie xxx

      She would have been quite content to sit on the quayside in the glorious sunshine and gaze at the boat, but she figured she was here to work, even if it didn’t feel like it. Since the coach from the airport had dropped her off at the busy ferry port she’d felt as if she was on holiday. The departures boards were full of the Jadrolinija line, with boats leaving for interesting-sounding places like Hvar, Jelsa, Stari Grad, Supetar, Bol, Milna, Dubrovnik, Korčula and Ancona. She grinned to herself. She wasn’t in Birmingham any more.

      Then she’d realised she was in completely the wrong place and had to walk all the way back to the other side of the bay to the marina, which wasn’t quite the start for a shit-hot crew member but she hadn’t minded the walk, not when the weather was like this and she was abroad.

      Having been at home for a year after being in France, it was heaven to be back in the sunshine with all the sights and smells that told her she was a long way from the Midlands. She adored her family, she really did, but she also liked being away from them. Being in charge all the time was exhausting. Her sisters, two brothers and her mother were all so flipping disorganised. It was like herding cats all the time and it wasn’t as if they were the least bit grateful. Theresa, the closest in age to her, had told her she was a bossy harpy and they’d been quite happy and had managed perfectly well when she was away in France. Which anyone with two eyes in their head could have pointed out was totally ridiculous, if they’d seen the state of the house when she’d got back. Brendan’s shoe collection had tripled, Theresa could have opened her own beauty counter with the amount of make-up she’d stockpiled, a fair amount of which Maddie was sure had been shop-lifted, and they were all living on Chicken Pot Noodles, when it was far cheaper to cook proper meals.

      Just then a man clutching several striped carrier bags appeared and, before she had chance to say anything, nipped nimbly from the quayside onto the boat.

      ‘Hi,’ she called. ‘I’m Maddie. New crew member.’