was what mattered. Length and breadth and, probably, depth, for all she knew. This was what the game was all about. You could say it wasn’t, if you weren’t in the game. Or if you were a trier who hadn’t made it. Or a Mac Biddulph who’d lost it.
But this was what everyone wanted, like it or not. To be the biggest, the richest, the most powerful. It was the law of the jungle. Popsie knew it, even if the losers didn’t. She sighed despite herself, but it was a sigh of deep satisfaction. She was racing to her destiny with a triumphant shower of spray in her wake.
The tender, her charming tender, she’d grown to love the word, eased back into the water as it approached the shadow of the great ship in its path. Crew persons were scurrying back and forth over its innumerable decks and she could just make out a group of guests under a long canopy at the stern. She must be the last to arrive. Excellent. She loved making an entrance. She checked her clothing and stroked her pearls for luck. Somehow stepping on board this boat would take her into a new life. She could feel it. You’d sell your soul for this.
And then, as they pulled alongside, a familiar voice drifted down from above.
‘Come aboard, dear lady, come aboard.’
