The Secret Cove in Croatia. Julie Caplin

Cute, isn’t he?’ Her eyes gleamed.

      Maddie wrinkled her nose. ‘Not my type.’

      ‘Can’t see him lasting long; he’s not Tara’s usual type. Her usual preference is for someone who can get her onto a red carpet, into a good party or is paparazzi friendly. Maybe this time it’s something more.’ She lifted her shoulders in an elegant shrug. ‘He’s certainly easy on the eye and not a complete idiot, although time will tell.’ She laughed and waved her book at Maddie. ‘And I am a cynical old harpy. Been in the business too long. Douglas is the best one of the lot of them. Not much to look at but the kindest heart.’ Suddenly she lifted her chin, giving Maddie a quick sharp smile before she went back to her book.

      Well, that was enlightening, thought Maddie, making her way to the first of the two guest cabins which were up on this deck, along with Ivan’s and hers. She was intrigued to see how the six guests had spread themselves out among the cabins. As the boat danced through the waves, the wind whipped at her short curls, which had escaped the ponytail she could just scrape her hair into, making her wonder how Cory would keep her incredible hair under control. The first cabin she came to was empty. Given that there were eight cabins between six people, of which four were couples, that wasn’t a big surprise.

      The second showed a few sparse signs of occupation. A comb by the bedside table, a book and a phone charger. At the sight of the book, she paused. Someone after her own taste; she loved a good Dick Francis. This one was an ancient and battered copy. Then she smirked. A pair of salmon-pink shorts had been tossed onto the unmade side of the double bed. Pinching her lips, she folded the shorts and laid them neatly on the chest of drawers built into the bulkhead.

      Then she frowned. It looked as if Nick was sleeping solo, not that it was anything to do with her. Quickly she remade the bed and gave the gleaming wood a quick once-over with a cloth. Everything had been cleverly designed to fit into the tiny room, the wardrobe built into an alcove, the bed tucked tight under the window and the bathroom a masterpiece in space saving. Nick was certainly clean and tidy and travelled light. Cleaning the bathroom took all of five minutes, wiping around a simple shaving kit, a small bottle of aftershave and the complimentary bottles of shower gel, shampoo and conditioner. She’d just finished in there when the door opened and she looked up to find a bare-chested Nick hovering uncomfortably on the threshold of the doorway.

      ‘Oh, hi. Sorry, I … er … I just came up to get my sunglasses.’

      ‘It’s your room,’ she said.

      ‘Yes. I … er … didn’t … um … expect maid service. I thought you’d have enough to do.’ He stepped into the cabin and it immediately felt very small.

      ‘I’m like Cinderella at sea,’ quipped Maddie, desperately trying not to look at his broad muscled chest. Being in the same tiny room as a half-naked man suddenly felt rather intimate and she was noticing a lot more about Nick than she had done earlier. ‘My work is never done. Would you like me to leave?’ she asked, her voice over-bright. No wonder Tara fancied him.

      ‘No, if I could just grab them from the bathroom, that would be cool.’

      ‘No problem.’ She moved to one side as he moved past her into the bathroom. ‘I see you changed your shorts.’

      Moving down to the lower deck, she found that Douglas and Cory had taken the master suite nestled in the bow of the boat. Simon and Siri had a cabin each. His had enough male grooming product to stock a branch of Boots and Siri’s had a massive stack of books. And although it was quite untidy, with lots of bits of jewellery, scarves and shoes left lying around, all her clothes were put away.

      Opening a few more doors, Maddie found Tara’s room and very nearly slammed the door shut again.

      ‘Holy shit!’ she breathed, standing in the doorway. Surely nothing short of a tornado had swept through this room. Even her sister Theresa’s side of the bedroom at home had never been this bad and on a scale of ten in the messy range Theresa punched well above her weight with an eleven plus.

      ‘Where the hell do I start?’ she asked herself, resorting to talking out loud because in some weird universe that seemed to help. Even Hercules would have turned tail at this task. Her initial flicker of panic was quickly doused by indignation. What an inconsiderate cow! Was Tara expecting someone to pick up after her?

      Discarded clothes covered every inch of the bed, but when she turned to look at the wardrobe she realised every last hanger was full and dozens of pairs of shoes were spilling out of the bottom. Two wet bath towels had been abandoned on the floor.

      No wonder Nick didn’t want to share with her. Every available surface was strewn with stuff. There wasn’t a spare inch to be seen on the dressing table top, which was covered with make-up: palettes of eyeshadow, a dozen lipsticks, most with their caps removed, at least ten eyeliner pencils and four different mascaras, while on the narrow shelf above the double bed were tubes of moisturizer, body lotion and a million vials and pots of things that Maddie had never even heard of. Midnight oil elixir, skin rejuvenation capsules, orchid oil, mattifying detox and oxygenating mister.

      Gritting her teeth, she got to work. What were the chances of Tara appreciating everything being put in order? With the room done, she moved to the bathroom.

      She was dismayed by the sight of once pristine white hand towels, dished out just yesterday, which were now make-up stained. The bathroom had been well used; the sink was filthy and the toilet … surprisingly, it looked as if Tara had tried to clean it, although she hadn’t done a very good job. And then Maddie felt a little less self-righteous. It looked as if Tara had been sick. No wonder she hadn’t eaten much last night at dinner. Or maybe she was seasick. It had been quite odd going to sleep the first night in the cabin, getting used to the bobbing motion of the boat. Maddie had brought a good supply of Stugeron seasickness tablets with her; perhaps she should offer one to the other woman. Maybe that was why she was so demanding this morning; she wasn’t feeling well.

      The hazy islands shimmering in the distance gradually morphed into green-clad hills rising out of the sea and while Maddie was laying the table for lunch, prolonging the task just to be on deck, she could feel the palpable air of excitement among the guests as they neared the island of Brač.

      Everyone stood on the bow watching as Ivan guided the yacht into a quiet inlet just off the rocky coastline where the scrubby trees came right down to the water. The water glinted in the sunlight, a deep beautiful turquoise. It looked like paradise.

      When Ivan dropped the anchor it was the signal for lunch and she brought up big platters of antipasti: cured meats, grilled peppers, artichokes, olives and local cheese, along with a selection of salads and some of the fresh bread she’d bought in the bakery this morning.

      ‘Thanks, Maddie,’ said Simon when he came to the table, where she waited for everyone to be seated. ‘Looks delicious.’

      Once they were seated, Maddie asked what everyone would like to drink.

      ‘Well, I think we should celebrate our first day at sea with a lunchtime bottle of Prosecco,’ said Douglas, putting his map down.

      ‘Or we could have Bellinis,’ said Cory with a definite hint of challenge in her voice.

      Maddie didn’t say anything, just waited for the consensus.

      ‘I’ll stick with Prosecco,’ said Simon.

      ‘I’m not fussy; I’ll have whatever’s going,’ said Siri, relaxing against the back of her chair like a contented cat. ‘Drinking at lunchtime feels so decadent.’

      ‘I’ll have a Bellini,’ said Tara.

      ‘Would it be possible to have a beer?’ asked Nick, almost apologetically.

      ‘No problem,’ said Maddie. ‘One beer, one bottle of Prosecco and two Bellinis coming up.’

      The serene, I’ve-got-this-smile lasted until she reached the galley. Fuck! What the hell was a Bellini? She dug out her phone, grateful she’d still got a couple of bars’ worth of signal. Prosecco with