A circle around the top deck finds us motherless, but I'm optimistic, and I'm hoping that rubs off on our temporary foster child, Seb. We pause outside of the buffet, where we started, and I turn to Harry.
"Do you know how long we have left before dinner?"
Taking his phone out of his pocket, he says, "We have another ten minutes or so."
I nod, and tell Harry, "If you want, you can go find the others and let them know what's going on and –"
"No, Tasmin," he replies. I stare at him. "Earlier, when I asked you if you wanted to hang out… I… Well, I meant it."
Slowly, a blush spreads over his face, a dusty pink that compliments his forest green eyes like sunkissed wheat fields against the backdrop of a lush forest.
I don't think I've ever felt closer to him. And my brain tells me that it's a good time to bring up the doll, the message tucked within it; shed a little light on how suspicious it feels.
"Hey, so –"
"Can I try some of that?" Seb asks politely, staring intently at the caramel slice as if he's never seen one before. Which he mightn't have.
Well, of course you can, kid. If it wasn't for the fact that I have no permission from your mum whatsoever.
All I can mutter is: "Um… Maybe."
"Please?" he says. Then clasps his hands together. "Please, please, please?" he begs.
God, it's enough to see Harry's furrowed eyebrows and slightly melancholy expression and soulful or soulless (I can't tell at this point), let alone this little kid's puppy-dog ones.
"What if he turns out to be allergic to something in it?" I whisper-ask Harry, who nods in agreement.
"I was thinking the same thing."
I don't want to have to decline, but Harry's giving me furrowed eyebrows and they're messing me up more than any kid's eyes ever will. I crouch down, placing a hand on Seb's shoulder and squeezing once, then twice.
"Sorry, Seb," I start, trying to sound as comforting as possible. "No caramel slices right now," I break to him slowly.
His eyes well with tears, and his lips pucker out, and the thin shoulder beneath my fingers grows tense and shaky. I think I feel my heart thrumming against my ribs, threatening to implode if I don't do something about this kid's heartbreak breaking me.
"No!" I yell, but then calm my voice. "Not right now," I tell Seb, smiling now. "But you know what? Tomorrow, if your mum lets you, Harry and I can take you to get caramel slices, how about that?"
He's lost all hope in me now, crying, unresponsive to my frantic and randomly-generated promises. And I can tell he's ignoring me, because his eyes are trained at a point behind me, and I shake him a little. He whispers something, so I lean close to listen.
"Mummy," he murmurs sadly.
Worriedly, I turn to Harry, but he's looking in a different direction too. I flick back to Seb and follow his sorrowful gaze to the point over my shoulder. His mum: a mirror image of Seb but as a grown woman. With the same spray of beige freckles and big brown eyes, dusty like the outback of Australia, opening her arms to Seb, who I let go of and watch him as he bounds towards her, pudgy hands pulling at empty air until they grip the familiar fabric of her shirt.
Tight embrace, and then the mum approaches us.
"You again," she says, smiling to her eyes. "Thank you." She faces Harry, grateful. "Is this your boyfriend?" she asks casually.
"No, no!"
"Uh…"
She's startled by our desperate responses, but I'm more or less disappointed by the hesitation. Harry.
"Oh, my bad. Either way, thank you for keeping my son safe. He's always running off, aren't you, Seb?" She gently flicks Seb's wet nose, stained by miniature tears. "I think I'll have to hold onto him extra tight. It's a big cruise."
"I think that would be a great idea," Harry responds.
"Cake," Seb exclaims, staring intently at the caramel slices still resting untouched on the table. "Can I have some?"
I glare happily at Seb. Well, you're mum's here now, so…
"Ma'am, can I ask: Is Seb allergic to any foods?"
She shakes her head no. "But we'll be having dinner soon, Seb. You'll be sick."
Eager little boy repeats: "Cake…"
Harry and I exchange a look that needs no words, and politely ignoring mum's protests, we hand over a plate and a spoon, bidding them good-bye, and I promise again to get cake with Seb another time.
"Ahh," I sigh. "Seb is so sweet!" I exclaim, already missing him, thinking about how cool it would be to have a little brother. "But I'm so tired now."
I collapse into the seat, excitedly spooning a large section of the caramel slice into my mouth, savouring the bubbly-sweet taste on my tongue.
Next to the table, Harry stares at me intently, and that's when I burst out laughing.
"What is it?" he asks.
"Ha-ha!" I laugh. "Oh, nothing, Harry."
I'm not going to ask about the note. I'm not going to hint at it at all. No. Because I think I've figured it out. And if I'm swift and silent enough, I'll slip the note to Harry, and then he'll read it. If he knows what it says, I'll know that there's something going on.
"Tasmin," Harry says gently, his voice lilting a little. My heart skips a beat, but I beat down the feeling with the curiosity and hardness embedded in my head. "We should head to dinner."
I stand, grin at Harry, and take his hand.
"Let's go."