I glanced across the table at my grandmother, who definitely wasn't paying any attention to what my mom was saying. She had been talking happily ever since we had arrived and the poor waitstaff had grabbed another table to add on to the one my grandparents were sitting at.

It had felt intentional, the fact that they had got such a small table, and I knew it was. It was their silent way of telling us off for taking too long, even though I didn't think we had. My mom had ignored it.

She always did.

I hated it though. I saw straight through what they were doing and I knew it was just to hurt my mum. She wanted their approval, even now, but she’d never get it. It didn’t matter what she did or what she made of her life, it would never be enough for them.

That thought sobered me because I knew it was true for me too. I would never be enough for my mom. It didn't matter what I did or how well I did even, it still wouldn't be enough. But… I still wanted her to be proud of me, I still wanted her approval even though I knew it was pointless. I wanted her to smile at me with pride, to actually enjoy talking to me and spending time with me but… I wasn’t sure that would ever happen.

I slipped back to Mitch almost without even realising.

“Morning, kid,” he said as I reached the bottom of the stairs. “Are you feeling anything specific for breakfast? I was just going to order the usual variety.”

“Yeah, that works for me!” I replied, looking around the room.

It didn't look very different from how it had the night before, but his duffel bag lay waiting on the table, clearly full. His suitcase was still unzipped though. It looked like he had only just finished stuffing things into it

“Sweet. I might ask them to bring more fruit than usual this time. We might be leaving tonight or tomorrow and I have not had nearly enough fresh melon.” He paused and looked up at me, his expression strangely intense. “What are your thoughts on melon?”

I was somewhat taken aback by the combination of his expression and his question.

“Umm… I like it?” I said uncertainly.

Mitch heaved out an exaggeratedly over the top sigh of relief.

“Oh, phew! I was worried you were going to disagree with me on what is absolutely the best fruit. Have you ever had melon in a tropical country before?” he asked.

I shook my head.

“Oh, man!” he cried. “Then you have not lived. Imagine a melon from back home. But now make it so much sweeter and juicier and just all around better. Honestly, I would live on it if I could. And not just honeydew but watermelon too! Oh, maybe that’s my favourite? I go back and forth between the two.”

I laughed and sunk down into my usual chair, peering into the bag in front of me as Mitch continued scrolling through his phone, ordering us breakfast.

I couldn’t really see much but I didn’t want to reach out and pull the bag open. That felt invasive, weird.

“Excellent!” he exclaimed. “A platter of melon, three different types. Oh, glorious! Should I order two? No, one should be enough, right? It says it feeds four.”

He looked at me over his phone, waiting for my answer.

“I think one should be enough probably,” I said with a shrug.

“You’re right, kid. I’ll get a platter of fresh fruit too. Might as well enjoy the luxuries whilst we can. Although, one of my places has a stall that sells fresh fruit every morning just down the road. We should go there after this assignment,” he said distractedly.

I looked up at him, my mind turning slowly. I have been so caught up on a mission that I hadn't even considered what we would do after we were done.

It felt too soon. I was having such a good time and although I did want to go to Spinalonga and find the treasure and whatever else we are looking for, I didn't want it to end. I didn't want to go back to normality, or at least whatever counted as normality with Mitch.

I knew it wouldn't be boring, of course, I was just enjoying the luxury. I loved being able to wake up and go for a leisurely swim, to relax by the pool for a bit and do some reading. I was even enjoying learning about all of the subjects that Mitch had insisted I start studying and, although I knew I would be able to continue doing that when we got to wherever we were going after this, I was sad that it was going to be over soon.

I blinked and looked around the table at my grandparents and Mom, running from my sadness again. We were eating in a strained silence, as usual. It seemed that my mum had finally run out of things to say which made sense because nothing had happened since dinner last night. There was nothing new to talk about and I felt like we’d covered most of the other topics.

I looked down at my breakfast. Half a grapefruit, not even flecked with sugar. I wasn't sure why I'd ordered it but my mum and grandmother also had grapefruit in front of them. I did a double take as I looked at moms plate. Hers had sugar on it.

I was a little impressed. I knew that my grandmother wouldn't approve of it, she saw adding sugar to foods as a sign of weakness. I don't think she understood the food was meant to taste good, not just be sustenance. My mum adding sugar was an act of rebellion, no matter how small.

That thought made me smile slightly. That's how things worked with my mom’s family. They didn't like to have big arguments, they preferred small stands. Small hills to die on.

But she was standing up for herself and, by extension, me.

Biting back a grin, I reached for the sugar bowl in the centre of the table, ignoring my grandmother’s look of admonishment. I knew there would be a comment about it later, probably something about how I needed to go for a swim or a run to stop myself from looking flabby, which was ridiculous, but in that moment I didn't care.

My mum's eyes found mine as I liberally sprinkled sugar on top of the grapefruit half and the corner of her lips ticked up ever so slightly before being squashed back down.

I placed the sugar bowl back in the centre of the table and took a spoonful of my food. It was still sour, but less unbearably so.

Feeling a little happier, I let myself return to Mitch just as he lowered his phone and slipped it into his pocket.

“All ordered, should be here as soon as they’re finished preparing it,” he told me before hefting his bag off the table and placing it carefully on the sofa.

“Great, thanks. So, how did it go earlier? Did you manage to hire a boat?” I asked, excitement starting to build in my stomach.

Mitch grinned as he sunk into the seat opposite me.

“Oh, yeah. And I only had to bribe them half the amount I expected. Got scuba equipment sorted too, it should be loaded onto the boat by the time we get there, just in case we need it. So, all in all, a pretty successful morning!” he said.

I nodded, excitement building within me.

“When do we get the boat?” I asked, leaning towards him. “And what kind of boat is it?”

I don't know why I asked, I didn't know anything about boats. He could tell me the exact make and model and it wouldn't matter at all.

“It’s just a catamaran, nothing too big or flashy but should be good for today. We have access to it from ten thirty but we should be late,” he said, glancing at his watch. “I want them to think that we’re just normal people who don’t care for their schedules or being on time. So, we should get there at about… eleven eighteen. That seems like random enough time and I can pretend that I tried to get us there for eleven but you held us up.”

I nodded at him.

“What do we do until then? Do we need to prep or pack or anything?” I asked, glancing at the bag he’d placed on the sofa behind me.

“No, I think I’ve got everything we need. I packed everything we’ll need last night. Got all the weapons, snacks, drinks and whatnot. Have you finished packing?”

“Yeah,” I said quickly, barely needing to think about it. “I finished last night.”

“Great!” he cried with a smile. “And you’ve packed everything from the bathroom and checked under the bed for socks? Somehow I always find some there.”

I smiled at him hesitantly, trying to remember if I had or not.

“I’m not actually sure,” I said.

I thought I had but I couldn’t be certain and I really didn’t want to make a mistake. I wasn’t sure what would happen if I left my toothbrush or shampoo or something behind. I doubted it would be that bad but I didn't want to find out, just in case.

Mitch smiled at me gently before glancing towards his suitcase.

“Do you want to run up and double-check?” he asked. “I need to make things a little messy down here for when the food arrives anyway.”

I had started to rise from my chair but that made me stop.

“Why?” I asked.

Mitch never left things messy normally. He always had everything tidied away before I even came down in the morning.

“Just so that, if the person bringing our food looks into the room, they can’t tell that we’re potentially about to run away!” he said with a smile.

“Oh, that makes sense.”

“Yeah! I won’t leave too much. Maybe just a towel somewhere… maybe my hat too,” he said as he glanced around the room distractedly.

I stood and nodded to myself.

“Okay, I’ll go make sure I’ve packed everything then,” I said.

“Great,” Mitch said softly before his eyes widened slightly and he looked at me. “Make sure you don’t make the bed.”

I felt my eyebrows scrunch together in confusion.

I didn’t think anyone had ever told me not to make a bed before. I mean, not that I really made it anyway but still, it felt weird.

“Why?” I asked.

“Alice wouldn’t,” Mitch grinned. “In fact, she would probably leave it a mess on purpose.”

I smiled back hesitantly.

“I’ll see what I can do,” is all I said before turning and walking up the stairs.

“What are your plans for the day?” came my grandmother’s cold voice.

It was more of a demand than a question and I found myself glancing at my mom before answering.

“I’m not sure actually,” I said in the most polite tone I could manage.

“You wanted to go for a swim today, right?” my mom said.

Again, this was less of a question and more of a demand. I didn’t mind too much though. Even though I knew my grandparents would judge me for my swimming costume choices no matter what, I liked going swimming there.

“Oh, yes. I did want to,” I replied with a smile to her.

“Good,” my grandmother replied snootily. “Children these days spend too much time sitting inside on their phones. When I was her age, I spent all of my time outside and riding my bike. When was the last time you even went on a bike?”

I had to think about that one. I did have a bike, somewhere. I had really enjoyed riding it when I was a kid but I had outgrown it. I knew that I could ask for a new one, it would reflect badly on my mum for people to see me riding a bike that was too small so she’d get me one, but I just hadn’t.

I didn't think I’d enjoy it anymore. When I was a kid, I used to go on bike rides with Duncan and my friends from the village where we lived but… we grew apart. I could no longer just ride over to someone's house and asked them if they wanted to go for a ride.

I didn’t even really know them anymore.

“I’m not too sure, actually,” I said, feeling unexpectedly sad.

“Just what I thought. No wonder this country is going downhill. People don't get enough fresh air nowadays, they’re too attached to their phones and televisions. It’s ridiculous!”

Part of me wanted to point out that she and my grandad spent most of their time in the lounge, glued to the TV, but I knew it would go badly. It wasn't worth it.

Instead, I reached out for the familiar dizziness and returned to my room in Crete. I was crouching on the floor, staring under the bed. There was nothing under there but I had made my bed. I needed to do something about that.

It felt mean. I knew that someone would come to change the sheets anyway, but it felt so rude to not even make the bed. Not that I made it home very often. My mom didn't care, she was too distracted by everything else.

I stood and pulled at the blanket, shaking it out so that it fell more naturally. It didn’t look right though. It looked like I was intentionally trying to make it look messy. I was, but that wasn't the point.

I needed it to look better. I wanted it to look like I had just rolled out of bed and left it, not even thinking about how it looked.

I frowned and threw the blanket to one side before grabbing the pillows and punching them down so that they looked more like I’d just slept on them and not fluffed them after.

It still didn’t quite look right but it was fine. It would do.

I looked around the bedroom one last time, feeling strangely sad that we might be leaving it, before walking into the bathroom.

I had packed everything. The cabinet and shower were empty. I let out a soft sigh before leaving the bathroom, checking my suitcase was zipped up and going back downstairs.

Mitch has been busy in my absence. He had a small but crumpled pile of clothing on the sofa, a couple of bottles of suncream discarded on the side and his hat hanging on the back of the chair. It looked perfect.

He stood, surveying the room with a slight frown on his face and his hands on his hips but, when he saw me, he smiled.

“I know, I know,” he said. “It’s just for show but I hate it. I’m going to pack it away the second our food gets here!”

I laughed and opened my mouth to say something but a quiet knock came from the door.

“Speak of the devil!” he cried, sending me a pointed look before walking to the door.

I slipped back into the Alice persona seamlessly, slouching across the room and kicking some of his shoes out the way. One skidded into the cabinet with the coffee machine one and made a surprisingly hollow thunk. I ignored the noise, despite wanting to wince, and continued my journey to the coffee machine.

I slid a cup into place, ignoring Mitch’s exchange with the person who had brought us our food, and started brewing myself a caramel latte. I wanted to offer to make one for Mitch, it felt so mean not to, but I forced myself not to even turn.

I’d make one for him as soon as the person had left, I promised myself.

“Great! Thank you so much for bringing that. Alice and I are starving, aren't we, darling?” Mitch asked from near the door.

I ignored him, not even looking back at him.

It felt horrible.

The silence of the room was broken only by the stuttering hiss of the machine and I refused to look away from it. If I did, if I hesitated for even a second, I’d turn back to him and apologise, I knew it.

I didn’t like being mean. It made my stomach feel uneasy.

“She probably can’t hear me over that machine,” Mitch said but his tone made it clear that he was lying.

“Of course,” the server replied smoothly.

The coffee machine clunked loudly, indicating that it was finished with the coffee pod and that I needed to add in the caramel milk pod which I did as Mitch finished talking to the person and shut the door.

I glanced back at him over my shoulder, making eye contact.

He lifted a finger to his lips, asking me to remain silent, as he pulled the scanner out of his pocket. I waited for him to give me a thumbs up before speaking.

“Do you want a coffee?” I asked before being dragged back into reality.

“Can I get you a coffee?” a woman asked.

I blinked and stared up into her brown eyes, trying to hide the dizziness that rushed through me.

“Hmm?” I said, still trying to get a hold of myself.

My hearing felt a little off. It was like I’d been swimming underwater and had only just come up. Everything felt too loud and distant.

“Would you like a coffee?” the waitress repeated.

“Oh. Yes, I’d love a caramel latte,” I replied without thinking.

“Great! I’ll be back with your coffees in just a moment,” she said before rushing away from the table.

I glanced around surreptitiously, trying to work out if anyone had noticed my dizziness or that the waitress had needed to prompt me. My grandmother was glaring at me but I wasn’t sure if that was normal or not. It felt pretty normal.

“A caramel latte?” she questioned.

My eyes darted to my mom before I said, “Yes.”

My grandmother sighed heavily before looking at my mother.

“Are you really not going to do anything about that?” she demanded.

My mom looked between the two of us for a moment, clearly torn before taking what seemed like a deep breath.

“Grace, I know that you’re on holiday but there is no need to overindulge,” my mom told me.

“Exactly, first needlessly adding sugar to her fruit and now having syrup in a coffee?” my grandmother said, sounding genuinely concerned. “It’s just too much.”

I was surprised by the flash of anger that I felt. I'm not sure why it hit me, my grandmother had commented on my food choices many times before. I was used to it but now, I was annoyed by it.

But it wasn't worth arguing. I could just escape instead.

“Sit down!” Mitch said, gesturing towards the food. “Leave the coffee, I’ll grab it when it’s done. You need to eat!”

I smiled at him, sending a hesitant glance back at his brewing drink, before walking to the table and sitting in my usual seat as Mitch lifted the silver cloches and stored them on one of the empty shelves on the food cart.

“Oh, look at that melon,” he cried before reaching out and grabbing a carefully cut triangle of golden fruit.

He bit into it, the juices trickling down his fingers and the expression on his face blissfully happy.

I reached out and choose a slice of watermelon, wanting to know if it really was as good as Mitch was making it seem or if he just really liked melon. The juices exploded in my mouth. It was somehow so refreshing, the flavour so delicate. It was delicious.

“So,” Mitch said, watching me carefully. “Do I need to abandon you on some island somewhere or are we good?”

I grinned at him and reached out for a slice of honeydew.

“It’s delicious.”