I have to admit that the sight of Vanner grovelling was impressive. Nauseating, but impressive. He bought diamond-studded solid gold cufflinks and sent them over as a gift. They arrived back almost at once, with a brief note thanking Mr Vanner but saying Mr Bullen did not accept gifts from strange men.

I almost liked Bullen for that. But then I thought maybe I’d imagined the dead-pan humour in the note. No man so filthy rich could have made a joke so neat.

Besides, it conflicted with my image of him as a thickset thug. I’d never seen him, but there was something about his name that suggested a bone-crusher, not a wit.

Next Vanner tried a ship-to-ship phone call, with an invitation to dinner, but was informed that Mr Bullen and his guests had gone ashore and would not be returning until late.

After that Vanner’s temper hit the skids. I was the first one to feel it.

‘You’re not pulling your weight, Della,’ he snapped.

‘What?’ I said crossly. ‘I’m doing double shifts because Maggie’s never around when she’s supposed to be.’

‘She’s involved in…other duties. Very popular girl. But you’re leaving her to do it all.’

‘Now, look, Mr Vanner, I’m here as a waitress.’

He gave the silent laugh that made me feel queasy.

‘Of course you are, Della. Of course you are. But a very special kind of waitress. It’s not enough to serve food and drink to the guests. You’ve got to make them feel happy.’

‘I do. I smile and tell jokes, and I don’t back off when they breathe fumes over me.’

His manner became ingratiating, which should have warned me.

‘Of course. I know you’re trying, but you’re not making the best of yourself. I’ve had a pretty dress put in your cabin and I want you to wear it.’

I knew the worst as soon as I saw that ‘pretty dress’. I should never have put it on, but we’d soon be heading back to England. Having coped for most of the trip, I thought I could manage just a bit longer.