Exodus

It’s a squeeze onto the ships; there are arms and legs everywhere. The queues at the bars are eight deep, and there’re whole families shouting for drinks. It’s rowdy but grandmas and grandpas are safe in their cabins and deckchairs; there is some order. Up on the decks, games are played on phones and bodies clog the swimming pools. People wave to the other ships, to friends and ex-neighbors and most cheer when they hear the Queen is safe up front. The kids rush around and make friends and soon there is dancing, well into the Atlantic. When the casinos and nightclubs close, those awake watch the country behind them drift away.