‘You’re getting rid of the piano!’ Far from being aghast at the suggestion as Grace had expected she would be, Betty was overjoyed. ‘That’s wonderful! I’ll get Baz to collect it and bring it to The Brown’s. We’ll have music in the bar on weekends!’ She swept a theatrical arc with her arm as if envisaging the famous neon signs of Broadway. ‘We’ll call it Saturday Singalong.’

‘Oh.’ Grace was taken aback. ‘Very well, dear.’ She hadn’t mentioned ‘getting rid’ of the piano as such, she’d only suggested they might store it away somewhere, but the idea had been embraced with such gusto she now supposed she must resign herself to its loss.

Tom had been equally enthusiastic. ‘Clearing the decks for an officer’s billet, eh? Good on you, Mum, you’re doing your bit!’

Baz arrived, Betty in tow, the very next day aboard a military GMC truck. They were accompanied by two obliging American soldiers.

Things move very quickly when there’s a war on, Grace thought, I suppose it’s only natural they should. She felt a sense of regret as she stood on the pavement, Betty beside her, watching the soldiers load the small upright into the vehicle’s open tray. The piano, with its pretty carved panels and moulded legs, symbolised the happiest of childhoods. It had belonged to her grandmother, upon whose death her own mother had passed it on to her. She and George had had it shipped up from Brisbane. The piano was very much ‘family’.

‘Don’t worry, Mum,’ Betty whispered comfortingly. ‘It’s only on loan. We’ll get it back when the war’s over.’

And how long will that be, Grace wondered.

The piano was an instant hit at The Brown’s, where it fitted perfectly into the corner of the bar. That night, when Betty sat down to play, they all knew it was destined to prove as great an attraction as the snake pen.

Baz stood nearby beaming, taking full credit and clapping along to the songs as if applauding himself, which of course he was. They’d never have got the thing here without his influence, would they?

Barry ‘Baz’ Taylor was a man who might be referred to by some as a ‘spiv’, while others might find him devastatingly attractive. He was to some a ‘flashy dresser’ – although never so flashy he couldn’t go unnoticed in a crowd if need be – while others might consider him ‘stylish’. Whatever the opinion, Baz certainly knew how to turn on the charm. A clever manipulator, he was quick to recognise the main chance and knew how to turn things not only to his own advantage, but also to the advantage of those who were useful to him. Which was why someone as canny as Val Callahan had found herself reliant upon a man she actually didn’t like, a situation she found at times irksome.