1
NICK
Last week, I jumped out of a helicopter onto a mountain top, skied a triple-black-diamond run while being shot at, then landed a ski jump onto a moving truck.
And, thanks to months of meticulous planning, I did it in one take and came out of it largely unscathed – only a minor strain in my right shoulder.
But put me on a ferry from Naples to Capri and I’m so seasick, I’m ready to crawl onto the floor, curl up, and die.
So much for Mr Tough Guy. Turns out my nemesis is going on holiday to the Bay of Naples.
With only ten minutes to go, I remember I’m supposed to be watching the horizon, so I sit up straight and train my eyes out the front window of the ferry, gulping in a lungful of air.
The deep breathing helps and I get into a sort-of meditative state, only my mantra isdon’t vomit, don’t vomit, don’t vomit all over these nice people.Good thing I’ve never been asked to do stunts at sea – I’d be useless with my head stuck in a toilet the entire time.
Soon enough, Capri’s marina appears and the ferry begins to slow, its rise and fall smoothing out. I expel a loud sigh and the woman across the aisle turns and gives me a smile.
‘A little bumpy, huh?’ She sounds Californian – LA if I had to pinpoint it – and after fifteen years of working on filmsets, I’m pretty good at identifying accents.
‘Slight understatement,’ I reply, and her smile stretches wider.
She glances at the empty seat beside me, then at the duffel bag by my feet. ‘You travelling alone?’
She doesn’t seem to have a motive beyond genuine curiosity. I’m not big-noting myself, but women tend to hit on me more than I’d like. Actually, I don’t like it at all.
‘Only this part,’ I reply. ‘My girlfriend’s meeting me here – she’s flying in from London later.’
‘Oh, no kidding – same with my boyfriend.’ That’s a coincidence but I don’t mention it. ‘We’re doing long distance,’ she says a moment later, her mouth twisting into a wry smile.
I nod, unsure how else to respond. Luckily, I don’t have to come up with anything, because an announcement starts blaring – something in Italian, then, ‘Welcome to Capri.’
I stand and swing my duffel over my shoulder, signalling for the Californian woman to go ahead of me. She shuffles into the aisle, her tiny frame dragging a massive bright-blue case – way more luggage than I’ve brought – but as she steps off the ferry, its wheels snag on the lip of the gangplank.
I’m about to help when she gives it a violent yank. The case springs free, but the force throws her off balance. She yelps, her free arm windmilling as she teeters on the edge of the gangplank. Instinct kicks in – I grab her arm with one hand and her case with the other, stopping both from tumbling into the water.
‘Oh my god,’ she says breathlessly as I steady her on her feet. ‘You totally saved me.’ She looks up at me with wide green eyes, catching her breath.
‘Didn’t occur to me not to.’
She laughs, seeming oblivious to the people manoeuvring around us. ‘Well, thanks. “Drowned rat” wasn’t exactly the look I was going for today – romantic rendezvous and all that.’
‘Course – any time.’
‘Or– and hear me out – how ’bout never again?’
‘Right,’ I reply with an amused snort.
A loud tut sounds behind me and I turn to find an older woman scowling at us, her hands on her hips.
‘Scusi,’ I say. She tuts again, shaking her head as she shoves past me.
‘Oops, we’re totally in the way,’ says the Californian woman.
She heads off, wheels clattering over each ridge of the gangplank, and I follow. When she reaches the pier, she steps aside and waits for me to join her.
‘Well, thanks again. I hope you and your girlfriend have a great vacation.’
‘Thanks – you too. With your boyfriend, I mean.’