The smell of hops, the smoke from the fire and cigarettes, lit a memory for Maggie of the last time she was in the Anchor, with her husband before he left for the war. Her throat almost closed. Why hadn’t she remembered that before?

‘Aye, aye, queen,’ shouted Reg to Babs, as a sea of male drinkers parted to allow the ladies past. ‘Go on, Cindy, get yourselves settled by the fire, it’s damp out there.’

‘It’s always bleedin’ damp,’ shouted Babs, ‘don’t take your vest off until June, ladies!’

Cindy waved to Babs then whispered, ‘Put a smile on your face, Maggie, you must stop looking as frightened as your cat when Scamp gets into your backyard.’

Maggie tried to smile. ‘I’m not even used to being Maggie,’ she replied, ‘never mind going to the pub. Everyone calls me Mrs Trott and they always have.’

‘Aye, I know,’ said Cindy, ‘and it ages you. What’s more, you let it happen because it made you feel comfortable and safe, didn’t you?’

Maggie smiled. ‘Who are you? Cindy the hairdresser, Dr Cole in disguise or Kathleen telling my fortune?’

Cindy threw back her head and laughed. ‘That’s better, now you’re smiling. Do you know what, I think all those quacks need to learn to be a hairdresser first – you’d be amazed at the things women come out with while they’re sat in my chair. I reckon I can even tell when they are going to get pregnant, though it seems to come as a shock to most of them!’

Maggie was not the least bit surprised; for many, need and survival had long since banished discretion and shame on the four streets.

‘Evening, Cindy – oh, hello, Mrs Trott!’ Babs called across.

One of the men in the crowd shouted, ‘Oh, is it two ladies with you tonight, Reg? Is one not enough?’ The crowd began to laugh and Maggie blushed to the roots of her hair.

Cindy squeezed her arm. ‘Evening, fellas! Well, he’s doing a lot better than any of you,’ Cindy shouted back to the joker, as bold as brass. ‘You can’t even find yourself one and you’ve been trying for ten years that I know of! Remember when you asked me to go out with you and I said, not on your life? I told you that the rumour that I had been blinded by the peroxide was entirely false – and even if I had been as blind as a bat, I still wouldn’t be that desperate that I’d want to go out with you.’

The crowd roared and Maggie found herself laughing with them as the joker looked wounded and then laughed himself. ‘All lies,’ he shouted. ‘I was just after a free haircut.’

A cry went up from the men around the bar, ‘What hair? You don’t have any hair, baldy!’