Page 57 of Not in a Million Years

We drained our glasses and replaced them on a passing tray, then made our way into the crowd. The music had been turned up, and it was too loud to talk, almost too loud to do much more than shout introductions and thank-yous to our host and hostess when we eventually located them. But Maksim pumped Daniel’s hand with genuine warmth and immediately whisked us off to show us the master stateroom where Daniel’s marquetry headboard had been installed.

‘Your partner is a true craftsman,’ he said to me. ‘Your home must be full of beautiful pieces.’

I didn’t say that Daniel wasn’t my partner, and my flat was more IKEA than Ideal Home.

Glowing with pride, Maksim showed us the en-suite bathroom with its whirlpool bathtub; the downstairs gym with sauna, steam room and beauty treatment area; the hot tub on the upper deck; the boardroom and cinema room. The level of luxury was insane – I allowed myself a little daydream about what it would be like to be so wealthy you never had to give a second’s thought to where your next mortgage payment was coming from. Instead of worrying whether there was enough money on your debit card to pay for your Tube fare to work, you’d be deciding whether to buy a Bentley or a Jaguar, before plumping for both. When you opened your fridge, you wouldn’t be worrying that the best-before date on your ready-meal lasagne was yesterday and deciding to risk listeria anyway, you’d notice that you were down to your last jar of caviar and tell the housekeeper to order more. If you were running out of space in your wardrobe, you wouldn’t stick some clothes on Vinted, you’d buy a new house.

‘But enough of the guided tour,’ Maksim said at last. ‘You’re here to enjoy yourselves. Come!’

He led us back into the thick of the crowd on the main deck, magicked up a waiter with more champagne, and disappeared into the crowd, glad-handing and backslapping his guests.

‘What do you reckon?’ Daniel asked. ‘Like it?’

‘It’s nuts. Imagine living like this. You could literally go anywhere in the world, have whatever you wanted.’

‘Is that what you want? To have more money than you knew what to do with?’

‘I mean, it would be kind of nice. Wouldn’t it?’

‘Only if you could overlook the environmental impact a boat like this has, and the appalling levels of global inequality it represents.’

‘God, you’re no fun.’ I leaned in towards him, our heads close so we could hear each other, and caught a whiff of the lemony scent on his hair. ‘Why not forget the state of the planet for a second and enjoy yourself?’

‘Sounds like a reasonable suggestion. More champagne?’

‘Why not? Be a shame to let it go to waste.’

By midnight, I’d eaten more lobster than I’d known existed in the world, and drunk more champagne than I’d have dreamed was possible without literally floating away like a helium-filled balloon. I’d chatted to my fellow guests at such random, drunken length that I felt some of them were my new best friends. I’d actually told one of the barmen that he was the kindest man I’d ever met, after he made me a perfect dry Martini.

I’d come to the conclusion that a no-shoes policy on a dance floor was an absolutely outstanding idea that should be adopted everywhere, because even after almost two hours throwing shapes (admittedly very amateur shapes – I’d always been a crap dancer), my feet didn’t hurt at all.

And, I suddenly realised, I’d lost Daniel.

I tried to remember when I’d seen him last. Certainly, we’d raided the buffet together an hour or so earlier. He’d been dancing just a few feet away from me. And then we’d taken a brief break and sat by the swimming pool, dangling our feet in the water.

But now, looking at the laughing faces around me, lit by the slow arc of the mirror ball, I couldn’t see him anywhere. I let the press of bodies edge me to the side of the rainbow-lit dance floor and stepped off, back onto the teak of the deck. The pounding music vibrated through my feet. Above me, the stars wheeled as if they too were some high-tech lighting effect.

Kate, you’re drunk, I told myself. It’s time to go home, before you snog some random stranger.

Blinking mascara out of my eyes, hoping I didn’t look like I was Maksim’s pet panda that had escaped from its living quarters, I made my way to the bar and claimed a bottle of water, taking a few deliciously cold gulps. I walked carefully down the smooth, varnished stairs to the buffet, which had been replenished with miniature burgers and chips in paper cones. But I wasn’t hungry, and Daniel wasn’t there.

I descended to the next deck down, where the main swimming pool was. The yacht was huge – in my less-than-sober state, I could easily get lost. And more to the point, finding Daniel would be like some ridiculously posh game of hide and seek. I’d look on the bottom deck, I decided, and if he wasn’t there, I’d call him and say I was ready to leave.

And, at last, there he was, sitting on the end of the deck where the motorboat had moored, dangling his feet in the sea, looking out at the view of the town spread out in the distance.

It was quieter here, but still he didn’t turn when I padded towards him on my bare feet.

‘Hello.’ I sat down next to him, lowering my feet into the water next to his. ‘Ooooh, that’s cold.’

‘You’ll get used to it. Having fun?’

‘So, so much fun. The very best time. Isn’t this crazy?’ I asked, gesturing around us.

‘Bonkers.’ He smiled. He had a half-full bottle of beer in his hand, and he took a sip before offering it to me.

‘I’m all good.’ I held up my water bottle. ‘Cheers, anyway. I thought it was time to slow down on the booze.’

He looked at me, and I realised his face was swimming in and out of focus. I pressed my fingers to my eyes and pushed my sweaty hair back off my face, then tried looking at him again. Better, but still blurry.

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