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cabin was pitch-black.
    â€œWhy are they playing that bloody music in the middle of the night?” Charlie heard his father say from the bunk below.
    Charlie turned on his reading light, looked at his watch. “It’s six o’clock,” he said.
    â€œWhy are they waking us up so early?” Whiskey groaned.
    Whiskey, like their mother, was not a morning person.
    â€œBreakfast, I suppose,” Bill said, already wide-awake, rolling out of bed and standing up, his face appearing suddenly next to Charlie.
    â€œWhy would we want to eat breakfast at six o’clock?”
    â€œWell, there’s two thousand people, aren’t there? We can’t all have breakfast at once. Someone has to be in the first sitting,” Bill said cheerfully.
    â€œWhy us?” Whiskey complained.
    â€œBecause we’re in the cheap seats, boys. That’s the way the mop flops. Now up you get. It takes so bloody long to get there—if we don’t look lively, all the bacon will be gone.”
    Charlie slid down from his bunk, landing in the suitcase his dad had dragged out from beneath the bottom bunk.
    â€œWatch out, Charlie!”
    â€œShhh,” his mother said, clamping the miniature pillow over her head.
    Charlie clambered out of the suitcase, struggled into jeans and a T-shirt in the cramped space at the end of his bunk.
    â€œI wonder what the weather’s going to be like,” Bill said, rummaging through his suitcase.
    â€œIt’s a cruise, Dad. It’s sunny every day,” Whiskey said sarcastically, pulling on yesterday’s clothes without getting out of his bunk.
    â€œWhat about Mum?” Charlie asked when they had finished shuffling around each other.
    â€œShe’ll live,” Bill said.
    x x x
    â€œWhere do you think we are, then?” Whiskey asked his dad when they went out on the promenade deck after breakfast.
    â€œWe’d be somewhere along the French coast, I suppose, heading for the Bay of Biscay.”
    â€œI didn’t realize it would be so cold,” Charlie said.
    â€œThat Atlantic breeze is certainly nippy,” Bill said.
    â€œI wish I’d brought my sweater up.”
    â€œWell, go down and get it.”
    â€œI can’t be bothered,” Charlie said. “It takes too long.”
    â€œYou’re right about that,” his father said. “By the time you get back, the sun will be out, and you won’t need it anymore. It’d be handy if we could communicate with your mother—get her to bring us something warm—if she ever emerges.”
    â€œMaybe they’ll let you use the PA system,” Whiskey joked.
    â€œWe could do with your old walkie-talkies,” their dad suggested.
    â€œDo we even have them anymore?” Whiskey asked Charlie.
    â€œI doubt it,” Charlie said. “I don’t remember packing them, anyway.”
    â€œYour mum probably threw them out years ago, knowing her.”
    â€œBummer,” Whiskey said. “They would have been great.” He made a crackling sound, held an imaginary walkie-talkie to his mouth. “Deck to cabin Delta 12. Sweater required urgently, over.”
    Charlie laughed, crackled back. “Delta 12 to deck. Can you repeat that command? Over.”
    â€œ Sweater ,” Whiskey said. “ Sierra—Whiskey—Echo—Apple— ”
    â€œAlpha,” Charlie corrected him.
    â€œWhatever.” Whiskey shrugged. “ Sierra—Whiskey—Echo—Alpha. What’s ‘T’?”
    â€œTango.” Charlie didn’t even have to think about it.
    â€œ Tango—Echo. ” Whiskey stopped again.
    â€œRomeo,” Charlie finished for him.
    â€œ SWEATER. Roger that. Over and out!”
    They laughed.
    Bill looked mystified. “I never did understand how you boys managed to remember that gibberish.”
    x x x
    It did not take many days for Charlie and Whiskey to exhaust the ship’s