‘An arse more like.’

We spread out our towels and lay down. I idly trickled warm, dry sand between my fingers.

‘Excuse me, sir? Free yacht trip?’ The man in front of me was wearing a navy polo shirt adorned with a red log ‘WLY’. He gestured towards a yacht.

‘What’s the catch?’

‘No catch. It’s the launch of Webster’s Luxury Yachts. We’ve different-sized yachts available to hire for holidays and private functions. Today we’re giving people a taste by offering a trip to the island over there. We’ll bring you back later. There’s a couple of spaces left on the yacht leaving right now. It’s a beauty. There’s forty passengers on board and several crew.’

‘Anna?’

‘I’m so comfortable here.’

‘But we wanted to go to the island. I’ve never been on a yacht. It will be an experience we won’t forget.’

‘Okay.’ Anna reached for her sarong. ‘It had better be unforgettable.’

The yacht was larger than it looked from the land. On its shiny white side,Mariawas painted in curling letters. The guests lounged on padded seats, and women in bikinis and sunglasses tilted their faces towards the sky, the breeze styling their hair. There was a small pool on board, not large enough to properly swim in but sizeable enough. A waiter offered us drinks from a silver tray – champagne for me,orange juice for Anna – telling us the pool could be covered at night to form a dance floor.

‘I could get used to this.’ I raised my glass and toasted. ‘To us.’

‘The three of us,’ Anna grinned. ‘Shall we go for a wander?’ We made our way down some stairs. The doors to the cabins were open for us to explore.

‘A double bed.’ I sat on it and bounced up and down.

‘What were you expecting? Bunks?’

‘Kind of. Josh would kill to see this.’

‘It’s not quite worth dying for,’ Anna said.

We carried on exploring. There was a bar with squashy sofas and a flat-screen TV. Music pumping from discreetly positioned Sonos speakers. Something loud with a thumping base.

‘Want to sit?’

‘No, let’s get some air,’ Anna said. On the deck she took deep breaths. I wondered if she had morning sickness. I guided her forwards until we were standing at the pointy bit of the yacht. The front. I put down our glasses before stretching Anna’s arms out to the side, circling her waist before I sang that Celine Dion song fromTitanic.

‘Idiot.’ She rested her head back on my shoulder. The wind whipping her hair around my face – she still smelled of coconut. I slid my left hand to her stomach. Flat for now, but according to google there would be a bump there in the next few weeks. I had never been happier. I knew this trip would be unforgettable.

‘I love you.’ I kissed her neck.

‘I love you too.’

She stumbled as the yacht suddenly lurched to one side. Her free hand grabbed the railing. ‘What was that?’

‘Dunno.’ I cast my eyes around. No one else looked concerned.

‘Hope we don’t break down,’ she said.

‘We won’t. The yacht will go on. You know what else will go on?’

‘Your heart?’

‘Yep. Because every night—’

A judder.

Shouting.