My story starts in late July. It was July 21st, I think. It was the first day of our holiday, a hot July day. I stood in the sun and looked at the sea. It was eleven o’clock in the morning. I was on the boat at Portsmouth with my mother and father and my sister, Louise. Sea birds played near our big boat and the small boats near us on the sea.

       I started to look at the people with us on our boat. They all watched the sea birds and talked and laughed. They were all happy on the first day of their holiday too. And suddenly there he was, this tall, quiet boy in a blue and white shirt: he was really good looking. I’ll always remember the first time I saw him.

       He didn’t see me then. He was with some friends. One of the boys was his brother, I think: they had the same blue eyes, the same mouth and nose, nearly the same hair. His brother and one of the boys with him tried to catch the sea birds and he smiled at them. Then they came and stood near us, and they talked about the small boats on the sea. I watched him over Louise’s head all the time!

       His brother and his friends made a lot of noise, but he was quiet and didn’t talk a lot. Then suddenly he looked at me and his eyes stayed quietly on me . . . and he smiled his lovely smile with his shy blue eyes.

       The people near me on the boat, the sun, the sea, the birds, the noise of his friends, time — it all stopped. At that momentthere was only him and me, me and him. Him and his smile for me. Only the two of us.

       Slowly, very slowly, the boat started to move away, across the water to Spain. It takes a day and a night on the boat from Portsmouth to Santander, in Spain. A day and a night together, on the same boat with him…

       It was a big new boat with cafes, shops, a cinema and a disco. In the evening Louise and I went to the disco together. We had a Coke and listened to the music and watched the dancers. But he wasn’t there.

       Then suddenly a tall boy in a black and white shirt came in — it was him! He was with a friend. They stopped and looked slowly at all the people in the disco. It was dark in there and he stood and looked for a long time.

       Then he saw me and he smiled a big, friendly smile. I wanted to stand up and sing and dance . . . dance with him. He came across the room and stopped near our table . . . and he asked me to dance!

       Suddenly he wasn’t shy with me. We danced together for a long time after that.

       But then I looked up and there was a second tall boy in a blue and white shirt at the door of the disco, with the same eyes and the same mouth and nearly the same hair.

      But the boy near the door had that nice, quiet, shy face — not a big, open, friendly smile. Suddenly I knew: this was his brother with me on the dance-floor, not him! I was with the wrong brother!

       He stood for a moment near the door and watched me and his brother on the dance-floor with sad eyes. I wanted to run to him, to take his sad face in my hands and say ‘sorry’. He looked at me, then he went out quickly.

       I stopped dancing, walked back to my table and sat down. His brother started to dance with Louise.

       I didn’t sleep that night. I thought about him all the time, and listened to the noises of the boat and the sea. In the morning I went to the café at eight o’clock and waited there with my sister for a long time. I wanted to say ‘sorry’ to him. I had four cups of coffee, and I don’t really like coffee.

       But he didn’t come. Where was he? Where was he?

       At eleven o’clock we arrived in Santander. I wanted to stop the boat; I wanted to stop the holiday; I wanted to go back to England. I only wanted to see him again, to talk to him, to ask his name. But he wasn’t there.