Two old chaps were leaning on the polished bar, smoking pipes. They gazed impassively at Bill and Ray. The landlord stood behind white-handled bar pumps, drying a pint glass with a towel. He gave them a curt nod. In the far corner, in a blue-ish haze of cigarette smoke, a group of men were playing darts.

‘Eh up. The cavalry’s arrived!’ one of the darts players said. He was a large old fellow, with a black patch over one eye. The others laughed.

He stepped up to the board, retrieved his darts and turned to Ray and Bill, who were still standing in the doorway. ‘Come in, if you’re coming. You’re letting all the heat out. You’re too late, mind, if you’ve come for that pair of scoundrels. They fell out that door ten minutes ago.’

‘But we’d have passed them on the way, if they’ve only just left,’ Bill said.

The man with the eye patch slurped his pint and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘True. Unless, of course, they went in the wrong direction.’

His pals roared with laughter again and Ray sighed. This was getting worse by the minute. He and Bill were on a mission to find Geoff and Norm. No one had seen them since dinner and Ray was furious they’d missed the air raid drill and made him look incompetent.

The driver, Brummie, had tipped Ray off. He’d spotted Geoff and Norm heading for the village and, by the way they were striding out, guessed they were going to the pub.

And they had been here, by the sounds of it, until a few minutes ago.

Ray turned to leave.

‘Hey, where’re you rushing off to, Raymondo?’ Bill asked. He was already taking off his hat and unbuttoning his coat. ‘Might as well have a drink while we’re here. We’ll never find them out there. It’s pitch black. Besides, I’m parched.’

Bill had a point. They didn’t know the village, after all. And in the unfamiliar darkness, they might fall into a ditch or stumble into the field of a vicious bull. The countryside was full of dangers.

‘Mine’s a pint, Raymondo, thank you very much.’

They stood at the bar and exchanged nods with the old chaps who sucked their pipes and regarded them silently.

The darts players seemed to have lost interest in them. Judging by the heavy thudding as darts hit the board, they’d resumed their game, along with their wisecracks and raucous laughter.

‘I swear, on me old lady’s life,’ one of them said in a gruff voice, ‘Bob Tandy’s painted white stripes on all ’is cattle, to stop ’em getting run over in the dark.’