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.’
‘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.’
Perfect white teeth framed by a bushy black beard curved into a piratical smile. ‘Welcome aboard. I’m Ivan, the skipper. We spoke on the phone,’ he said in heavily accented English as he mimed the action, as if reinforcing his words to make sure she understood.
Jumping the small distance onto the boat, she was immediately conscious of the unfamiliar bob of the boat on the water. She wasn’t even going to think about seasickness.
‘Nice to meet you.’ He held out a tanned forearm, thick with dark hair, and shook her hand with a bone-crushing grip, which no doubt came from lots of sailory-type activities that Maddie couldn’t begin to guess at. ‘Come on, I’ll show you around.’
Without looking back over his shoulder, Ivan pulled open a door and headed inside. She followed him below deck, down a few steps into a corridor which ran the full length of the boat. With solid, highly polished chestnut wood cladding the walls, floor and ceiling, it felt a little closed in and slightly claustrophobic but she was sure she’d get used to it.
‘Cabins,’ said Ivan, pointing to several doors leading off the corridor before taking her along through the boat to another short flight of stairs comprising no more than five steps. To the left there was a door, while a further flight of stairs led upwards and outside.
‘Galley.’ He indicated with his head as he led her into what she realised was the kitchen. She’d been warned by her brother Brendan’s best friend, who apparently knew a thing or two about boats, having spent some time in Hull, that she should expect something like a caravan on the water. Having spent many a holiday at a caravan park in Filey on the North Yorkshire coast, she’d anticipated a couple of gas rings and a tiny fridge tucked under a counter, with minuscule cupboards built into every conceivable nook and cranny. This was a revelation, the sort of kitchen you’d find in one of those posh executive homes that were springing up on the outskirts of towns with gated railings around them. It even had a range with five gas burners and a fancy griddle plate.
Maddie’s hopeful mental images of her preparing lots of salad and simply prepared meats went up in smoke. Holy moly, with this sort of set-up, was she expected to serve up Cordon Bleu standard food? Her cooking skills might have improved in recent years but they weren’t going to be winning any Michelin stars any time soon. Thank goodness she was arty; she could do presentation over substance any day of the week, especially since Sebastian had taught her a few techniques to help hide her less than stellar skills.
‘Wow.’ She took a long, slow look around the kitchen.
‘Nice, eh?’ He dumped the bags and held out his hand. ‘I picked up a few supplies for us before the guests arrive. After that you’re on your own. In charge of cooking and food. What sort of charter experience do you have?’
Maddie winced but gave him a confident I’ve-got-this-covered grin. ‘None, but I can cook, clean and I’m good with people. I’m a last-minute addition but don’t worry, I’m a hard worker.’
‘Better than the girl they had lined up then.’ Ivan shook his head.
‘When do the guests arrive?’ asked Maddie, her curious gaze taking in the big stainless steel run of fridges and the marble-topped counter.
‘Tomorrow. Plenty of time to get ready. I thought I’d have to get my grandma on board to help with the cooking and the serving. I’m
