DAY 9. AT SEA. AFTERNOON
The ship felt hostile. It seemed every pleasure it offered, every restful activity others were enjoying told Genevieve that she would never feel pleasure again. She watched herself from outside her body, observing herself reading, eating, and conversing as if she was a character in a film. The sensation was especially strong as she climbed the five flights of steps to the deck that afternoon, having left Peter sleeping in the cabin.
And there was Thomas, almost regal in his immense size, watching the doors to the deck, waiting, she hoped, for her. She was so pleased to see him that, on an impulse, she bent and kissed him lightly on the cheek.
‘I hoped you’d be here,’ she said.
She fetched glasses of iced water and brought them to where he sat in the deep shade
