“I think with this old tub it’s usually five days,” he said. “Other ships have done it in four but since the Mauretania retired the English don’t really have a contender for the record. We’ll have to wait until they finish the new Queen Mary. Then we should win back the Blue Riband from the Germans.”

He started down the grand central staircase. “She used to be a German ship, you know. There was a big portrait of the kaiser on that wall.” He pointed to a nautical scene that now graced it. “Their pride and joy. The Imperator, she was called—or should that be ‘he was called’ since it’s a male name. They had to hand it over as war reparations and it was rechristened Berengaria.”

“What exactly does ‘Berengaria’ mean?” I asked.

“It’s an old-fashioned female name,” Tubby Halliday said. “I seem to remember I had a great-aunt called Berengaria. Phew, I’m glad that one’s gone out of style, aren’t you?”

“I’m not madly keen on Georgiana,” I said, “but since my other names are Victoria, Charlotte and Eugenie they’re all equally stuffy.”

“They’re all royal, aren’t they. You lot are always stuck with that sort of name. But my name is actually more hideous. I’m stuck with Montmorency. Nothing could be worse than that, could it? Which is why I go by Tubby.”

“I go by Georgie,” I said and rather wished I hadn’t. He seemed nice enough, just a little too friendly.

Tubby guided me through the various decks, through the Winter Garden with its wicker furniture, the palm court with full-size palm trees and a stage for the orchestra, the first class dining salon and finally into the bowels of the ship.

“What’s down here?” I asked nervously as there was no sign of anybody else heading this way.

“You’ll see. Best part of the whole ship.”

It crossed my mind that he was luring me down here to have his way with me. He didn’t seem like the type of person who had his way with unsuspecting females, but then I’d been surprised in the past by frightfully proper English boys with horribly groping hands.

“This way,” he said and his voice sounded strange and echoing. I hung back. He disappeared through a doorway. I followed, stopped and said, “Golly.”

It was a swimming pool. And not just any swimming pool—it was flanked by Greek columns, marble everywhere, subtle lighting in the ceiling.

“Pretty neat, wouldn’t you say? Maybe you’ll join me for a swim one day?”

“What happens if it gets rough?” I asked.

“The water slops around a bit. But it’s no fun in a storm. You get tossed about like a cork. They close the pool if it’s too rough.”