‘You could tell ’em some of your jokes, Ray,’ Bill said, when the song ended. He was slurring his words and nudging Ray. ‘Go on – make ’em laugh!’

Ray pushed him off, grateful to Charity for going straight into the next number, ‘Knees Up Mother Brown’.

As they reached the final line, everyone clapped and cheered. Charity beamed as she accepted their applause and the offer of a drink on the house from the landlord. She stood up and bowed to the left and right, with an extravagant gesture of her hand, making them all laugh.

Then there was a rush for the bar, as pints were ordered and requests rang out for other tunes. It looked as though they were in for the night.

‘When are you Land Girls gonna do another one of them shows?’ one of the pipe smokers asked Charity. ‘We enjoyed that last one, didn’t we, Howard?’

She smiled. ‘The recital, you mean? Yes, it was jolly fun, wasn’t it?’ She caught Ray’s eye. ‘We joined up with some other local Land Girls and put on a show in the village hall. Singing, tap dancing, someone recited poetry, I banged out a few tunes. We raised a pile of money for the Spitfire Fund. Maybe we’ll do it again one day!’

Ray wanted to ask her more about the recital but, at that moment, a pint of ale arrived for her. Charity took it gratefully in both hands and started to knock it back.

As the noise in the bar finally quietened down, in readiness for the next song, the unmistakeable sound of men singing – loudly and out of tune – drifted in from outside.

‘Shush!’ Charity ordered. Everyone stood, heads cocked and listened.

The song was, of all things, ‘Old Macdonald Had a Farm’, complete with animal noises – moos and baas and cluck clucks – and rather a lot of giggling.

‘Blimey, that’s them!’ Bill said, throwing back the dregs of his pint. ‘They’re absolutely pickled, Raymondo. Quick!’

Ray frowned and listened again. Yes, that was them. They must’ve realised they were heading in the wrong direction and doubled back. It was strange how, when Geoff sang, there wasn’t a trace of his stammer. Or perhaps it was because he was completely blotto.

‘Come on!’ Bill urged. ‘Or we’ll miss ’em again!’ The singing outside was growing fainter. Geoff and Norm had obviously passed the pub now and were making their way up the lane.

Ray looked wistfully at his beer on the bar. He’d still got half a pint left. Charity appeared at his side and cupped her hand around the pint glass.

‘Don’t worry, Ray, I’ll finish this off for you.’

But they weren’t quite out of the woods. The chap with the eye patch – Ted – couldn’t resist having one final go.