Julie Caplin - The Secret Cove in Croatia

‘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 grateful you could make it.’

Maddie gave him a brilliant smile. ‘Excellent,’ she said, making out she was far more confident than she was, but how hard could it be? She was going to be a glorified cook and chambermaid; as long as they didn’t ask her to drive the boat, she’d be fine. ‘This is all new –’ she waved a hand at the kitchen ‘– but I’m a quick learner.’ Her words were deliberately evasive.

‘Most of it is easy …’ He paused. ‘But they didn’t want to pay for any more crew, so you may need to help me from time to time.’ He grinned. ‘The sails, we don’t use. It’s mainly engine. But you’ll have to learn how to drive the launch.’

‘The launch? Great,’ she said, as if she was asked to do this sort of thing all the time. That was the little boat that had been roped to the side of the big boat?

‘Yes, with a trip like this, it’s difficult to moor in some of the popular places, especially Hvar, so it’s easier for us to drop anchor just outside and drive the guests in and out. A water taxi.’ He shrugged. ‘They call when they want picking up. And some celebrities like the privacy.’

‘Ooh, celebrities?’ Maddie’s eyes widened and her dark curls bobbed as she shifted on the spot. ‘Do you know who’s going to be on board?’

Ivan threw back his head and laughed. ‘Not until they get here. One year my friend had the big shock when Beyoncé and Jay-Z turned up on the boat he was skippering.’

She whistled, not having given too much thought before about who might be on board.

‘I do know they have lots of money. This boat costs over six thousand euros a day to charter.’ His eyes narrowed with sudden authority. ‘But I’m the skipper. I’m in charge. Me, I drive the boat, navigate. I’m the boss. You are the …’ He frowned, his English failing him. ‘What they want, you provide.’ Although his eyes twinkled, she got the impression that what he’d just said was non-negotiable.

‘So what about the quarters?’ asked Maddie, wondering about sleeping arrangements and keen to see her own bunk.

‘This gulet has eight cabins.’

‘Gulet? I thought it was a yacht.’

‘A gulet is just a type of yacht, usually two or three-masted, with several decks, typical of Turkey and Croatia. This has two masts.’ Maddie nodded as if she had any idea what he was on about.

Ivan gave another one of his quick charming grins. ‘This trip will be easy. Only six guests. The gulet sleeps many more.’

‘Gosh, six people on this huge boat.’

Ivan rolled his eyes. ‘Some people have money … Why they chartered a boat this big?’ He shrugged. ‘But it makes our lives easier. Especially yours. Not so many mouths to feed. Not so many rooms to clean. Not so many beds to make.’

‘Easy-peasy,’ said Maddie, thinking of home, with two brothers, two sisters and a mum who was disorganised at the best of times. Cooking, cleaning and tidying up after six people was the norm.

‘There is a manual for crew.’ He leaned down, opened a drawer and pulled out a royal blue ring binder with the charter company’s logo on the front. ‘Rules, regulations and guidance. The hours are variable …’ He lifted his shoulders in a fatalistic shrug. ‘You’re supposed to get some time off, but one of us is on call all the time from breakfast until the guests go to bed. It depends on the people. Some like to stay on board, others like to explore and take day trips. Today we have peace and quiet. Tomorrow, it will be busy when they arrive. I’ll show you to your quarters.’ He glanced at the big chunky watch on his wrist. ‘This evening I go home to Split. You like to come?’

Maddie unpacked her duffel quickly, a frisson of excitement running through her at the thought of being in sole charge of the boat. She must start calling it a gulet; that sounded far more professional.

Her cabin was on the upper deck, along with Ivan’s cabin and two guest cabins and, she giggled to herself, she had her own bathroom. Talk about real luxury, even though she’d figured out it was possible to pee and shower at the same time. Waiting for her on the bed were a couple of freshly laundered pale blue T-shirts with the company logo on the front. Uniform of sorts, she guessed. She’d been told to bring navy shorts (which had been impossible to buy in the quick turnaround) and navy trousers (would leggings do?) to wear when she was on duty, which, from the sound of it, could be all the time. Although being out here in Croatia on this gorgeous yacht didn’t feel the least bit like work. Well, not yet.

When she pulled shut her door, clutching the manual under her arm, she crossed to the rail to look out over the marina, tilting her face up to the sun. Not a cloud marred the sky and, at four o’clock in the afternoon, it was still very warm. This morning’s grey skies in Birmingham seemed a world away and her cramped three-bedroom home would fit on this yacht five or six times over. Ivan might have described her cabin as small but, compared to sharing with her sister Theresa, and having her own bathroom, even with the shower and toilet combo, it was luxury.

A couple wandering along the nearby promenade skirting the marina paused, staring at the yacht. Maddie pretended not to see them and for a moment imagined she was a guest on the yacht and enjoyed their envious gaze. She couldn’t begin to imagine what the man who’d chartered the boat did for a living to earn enough money to spend such an enormous sum renting this boat.

And this one wasn’t even close to being one of the biggest in the marina, although it dwarfed its nearest neighbours. Over on the other side of the port were some seriously swanky boats. Ivan had pointed out Roman Abramovich’s yacht, a sleek, sophisticated six-decked affair with so many satellites and gizmos on it that it looked more like a warship or a small cruise liner, and another not quite so large one that was reputed to have been chartered by Dua Lipa for the summer.