‘I respect your views, Val,’ he said, ‘and I’m taking on board all you say, believe me.’ He did, and he was. She was only confirming his own gut reaction, after all. Following this morning’s interviews at the stockade, he too felt a certain sympathy towards the boys of the 96th Battalion. But the sympathy vote didn’t provide answers. He needed to move on.

‘I’m keen to talk to one of your employees,’ he said, ‘a man called Baz Taylor.’

Val gave a derisive snort. ‘Employee? Well, I’m not sure if that’s quite the right term. I think Baz’d see himself more as a sort of “partner”. And it’s true I do rely on him for a lot of things that might otherwise be difficult to come by,’ she admitted in all honesty, ‘given wartime shortages, you know how it is.’ She left it at that, the implication obvious.

‘Which would include the alcohol supplied to the club you started up for the Negro troops,’ he prompted.

‘Exactly,’ she replied, ‘and a whole heap of other stuff, too. Baz can pull a rabbit out of a hat like no-one else I know. He’s a bloody magician.’

‘Or a black-market racketeer,’ Lyndon said.

‘Same thing.’

They shared a smile.

‘Any chance I could have a word with him?’

‘Of course.’ Val rose. ‘You hungry by the way?’ She gestured at his glass, which was all but empty. ‘That stuff can go to your head on an empty stomach. Would you like a sandwich?’

Lyndon suddenly remembered he hadn’t eaten. ‘Yeah, thanks, a sandwich would be great.’

She crossed to the door, opened it, and looking out over the landing, she bellowed down the stairs. ‘Hey, Betty, get Baz up here for us, will you, love? And while you’re at it, pop into the kitchen and ask Jilly to make us a couple of sandwiches.’ She turned back to Lyndon. ‘Ham and tomato all right?’

‘Fine.’ He nodded.

‘Ham and tomato, thanks, love,’ she yelled and Betty’s voice answered back with equal power.

‘Rightio, Val.’

Closing the door behind her, Val crossed to the desk, sat, and poured them both another healthy measure of rum. ‘What are you after Baz for?’ she asked unashamedly. If he didn’t want her to know he could always tell her to bugger off.

But Lyndon didn’t mind. Things had progressed far enough between them that he could see no reason why she shouldn’t be included in this next step. Besides, he trusted her. ‘The men out at Kelso got drunk,’ he said, ‘which was how the trouble started. I want to know about their liquor supply.’

‘Oh, it would have come from Baz,’ Val said with a nod that was unequivocal, ‘it would have come from Baz, that’s for sure.’