Waving Not Drowning

It’s that business end of the afternoon when the Mediterranean sun is at its most ferocious. The sensible locals are fast asleep in darkened apartments; only the tourists are burning on the beaches. In the distance, a plane drags an unreadable message above the bay of Alcúdia as Lindsay moves swiftly around the deck of Splashing Around, one of the smaller sailing boats at the end of the pontoon where the sun makes rainbows in the oily water.

“Right,” she says matter-of-factly, but her heart is pounding. Sailing used to be a practised ballet – each of her family with their own tasks, but like everything else, it’s much harder alone. She holds her breath as she reverses out, terrified that she’ll have a bump.

But she can’t put it off any longer. José, one of the deck hands she’s hired for a few hours, will be here to wash down the boat ready for the agent to do the handover. And then Splashing Around will no longer be hers. The new owners will probably rename it.

This moment has