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‘Last time I looked, those were pretty rare.’ His voice is light but his serious expression tells me he’s not ready to let me off the hook quite yet.

I sigh. ‘Honestly, I don’t know. For the most part, I don’t think about it. I avoid situations that I know are going to make me uncomfortable and get on with my life. Isn’t that what we all do? After all, none of us make it to adulthood without carrying some sort of emotional baggage. Even you, I’ll bet.’

Out of the corner of my eye, I see his mouth twitch upwards in amusement. ‘How very Freudian of you. And what is my emotional baggage, do you think?’

I smile at him, relieved that the bubble of tension between us has burst. Maybe it’s time to put the snake in the jar back on the shelf for a while, though. ‘I don’t know,’ I tell him. ‘But it’s in there somewhere. If I had more time, I’d probably be able to tease it out of you, but sadly, this is your last full day on earth, so we need to focus on making sure you enjoy it.’

He stares at me, evidently nonplussed. ‘My last day on earth?’ he asks. ‘What makes you say that?’

‘You have an appointment with a great white shark tomorrow, remember?’

‘Yes. So?’

‘You’ve seen Jaws, haven’t you? These things rarely end well.’ I start humming the theme tune and drawing my hand dramatically across my throat.

He laughs, and the richness of it fills the car. ‘Who’s being dark now?’

* * *

‘It goes without saying,’ our guide says in clipped tones the next morning, ‘that you must keep your hands and feet inside the cage at all times. Also, do not climb out of the cage until told to do so by a member of the team. If you get your head bitten off because you didn’t listen to us, we’re not going to be accepting responsibility. Is that clear?’

Next to me, Nathan is fully alert, taking in everything the instructor is telling us. He told me on the journey over that he only slept for a couple of hours last night, such was his excitement about today. I, on the other hand, am letting the safety briefing wash over me. It was a ridiculously early start; the minibus collected us just after six, then wound its way round other hotels and serviced apartment blocks in Cape Town picking up our fellow shark enthusiasts, before heading out towards the airport and the two-hour drive to Gansbaai, where we are now. Although it was a spectacular drive through beautiful mountain scenery, the view was rather lost on me as I took the opportunity to catch up on the Sunday lie-in that Nathan had denied me.

As the instructor continues with his briefing, pointing to a life-sized shark jaw hanging from the ceiling and explaining how a human body could easily pass through it whole, I take the opportunity to look around me. The jaw does look intimidating at first sight, with its rows of sharp, serrated teeth that the instructor informs us are continually replaced, moving forwards as if on a conveyor belt. On the wall, a flatscreen TV is showing a great white tearing into a piece of what looks like fish on a lure, shaking its head furiously to try to rip pieces away. This conflates with the scenes from Jaws playing in my head and I shudder. What kind of person thinks a fun day out consists of getting into the water with something like that, protected only by a flimsy cage?

Nathan does, obviously. I can practically feel the excitement coming off him, the weirdo. The others, though? I look around at our fellow shark hunters. We’re definitely a mixed bunch, and I smile at an elderly gentleman who doesn’t look like he’d have enough meat on him to even count as a shark snack. Next to him is a middle-aged couple. From the expression on her face and the way she’s holding her borrowed wetsuit, I think it’s safe to assume this trip wasn’t her idea. More surprising is that the tour company managed to find a wetsuit to fit her husband, as he’s sporting a most impressive beer belly. Next to them are a couple of young women who I suspect are taking a gap year either before or after university. They’ve both got that healthy, windswept glow and slightly dishevelled look about them that come from months of travel in hot climates. Finally, there’s a family with two teenaged boys, who have almost had to have their phones forcibly removed.

I’d initially turned down a wetsuit, explaining that I was only there to take photos and I wasn’t leaving the boat, but the instructor had said the policy was that everyone had to have one, regardless of whether they went in the water or not. I have no intention of putting it on; my limited experience is enough for me to know that it’s not possible without every limb on your body being double-jointed. Whoever invented wetsuits must have started life as an escape artist, I’m sure. Whenever you see someone getting in or out of one, it looks exactly the same as someone trying to escape a straitjacket. Yup, mine will be staying on its hanger, thank you.

At least the weather is good, I think as we walk down to the boat after the briefing. The sea is calm, which the instructor explained would greatly help visibility under the surface. Hopefully, it will also greatly reduce the risk of me throwing up my breakfast; I haven’t said anything to Nathan, but I am embarrassingly prone to seasickness. Thankfully, I also react badly to turbulence on airplanes, so I never travel anywhere without my anti-nausea wristbands, which I put on before leaving the flat this morning.

‘Thank you so much for this,’ Nathan says. ‘I know it’s not your thing, but it’s a once-in-a-lifetime experience, and therefore all the more important to have someone to share it with me.’

‘I won’t be sharing it,’ I remind him firmly. ‘While you’re doing your tinned shark food impression, I’ll be sitting in the sun, soaking up the rays and taking the occasional snapshot of the top of your head while it’s still attached to your body. Speaking of which, where would you like me to post your remains?’

He laughs. ‘There won’t be any remains to post, because I’m not going to get eaten.’

I don’t reply, but simply start humming the Jaws theme tune again.

20

Thankfully, the combination of calm water, my wristbands and the general air of excitement on the boat kept me from bringing up my breakfast as we sped out to the area where the sharks were supposed to be. However, we’re now facing a new challenge, and I’m really not sure I’m up to the task. In front of us are two large tubs, and the smell that comes out as the crew members take off the lids is almost enough to drive me to the side of the boat on its own, and that’s before I catch my first glimpse of the contents.

‘Euww, that’s disgusting,’ one of the teenaged boys exclaims as the crew members open a tub that smells like rancid fish.

‘It might look and smell disgusting to you,’ one of the instructors replies with a laugh. ‘But the sharks will love it, trust me. Right, get stuck in, everyone. We want to infuse these lures with the chum, so we can tempt the sharks to come closer and you can get a good view.’

To my surprise, the only other person besides me who doesn’t enthusiastically start dunking the lures in the foul-smelling liquid is Mr Beer Belly’s wife, who is watching the proceedings with a look of profound distaste.

‘This holiday is my Barry’s dream,’ she explains as we settle ourselves back on the seats away from the sight and smell of the bait. ‘He’s obsessed with nature, watches all the documentaries. He’s like Croydon’s answer to David Attenborough. We’re going on safari after this, to see the big five. I don’t mind, really. He’s a good man and it gives me pleasure to see him so happy. But all this “red in tooth and claw” is a bit much for me, if I’m honest. The closest I ever want to get to killing my own dinner is watching the butcher boning and rolling our Sunday joint. What’s your story? Is your husband a wildlife fanatic too?’

‘Oh, he’s not my husband,’ I correct her quickly.

‘Boyfriend, whatever.’ She waves her hand dismissively to let me know that she’s not interested in the details of our relationship.

‘Nathan’s just really into great white sharks,’ I tell her.

‘Not your thing either?’