That was all very well, Ray thought, but if they got into trouble or were in no fit state for work in the morning, he’d feel responsible.

The bartender placed a pint of ale in front of Charity and she paid him. Ray and Bill watched as she took a gulp of beer, then licked the foam moustache from her top lip with a giggle. ‘Look at you two! Never seen a girl with a pint before? I was a rum and lime girl before I came here, but this is good.’

Bill looked puzzled. ‘Don’t you feel out of place, coming here alone?’

Charity shrugged. ‘Should I?’

‘Back home, the only women who go into pubs on their own,’ Bill said, ‘are tarts. OWWW!’

Ray had given him a deft nudge in the ribs.

Charity laughed. ‘You know, women are doing as much as men in this war,’ she said, looking at Bill but raising her voice, so the darts players in the far corner could hear. ‘So why should anyone turn up their nose because we wear slacks and order beer?’

The man with the eye patch looked round. ‘We don’t have any quarrel with you, sweetheart, you’re doing your bit!’

Ray swallowed and kept his eyes firmly fixed on the row of glass optics at the back of the bar. He knew what was coming next.

‘What’s your excuse then, fella?’

There it was.

‘Oh, shut up, Ted! Not that again!’ Charity yelled. She shook her head at Ray. ‘They gave your two chums the third degree the other night in here, too. Called them army dodgers, duckers, idlers and all sorts. No wonder there was almost a fight.’

‘Banking’s an essential industry!’ Ray called back. It sounded lame and uppity. He should have stayed quiet. Why had he let himself rise to the bait?

‘What’s that you say, fella? Bean counting’s more important than doing your bit for King and Country?’ the man threw back.

‘Leave it,’ Bill muttered. ‘You can’t win, chum.’

Ray wanted to curl up in a corner. Called out on why he wasn’t in khaki, yet again and, to his shame, he’d been defended by a woman. And what was this about a fight? Ray didn’t want a fight, not one little bit. The men in the corner might be getting on a bit – and the chap who was heckling him only had one eye – but they were as tough as old boots. He reckoned they could still give him and Bill a good walloping.

Bill was obviously thinking the same. He’d raised his eyebrows at Ray and nodded at the door.

He was right. They should go.

Ray went to pick up his glass but missed and his hand hit the bar instead. He felt quite woozy all of a sudden. There were two blurry Bills standing next to him.