‘Who you gawping at?’ Doreen asked, before turning around. She gripped Queenie’s arm. ‘Oh my God! The man. That’s him. Look, the one standing next to that chap in the trilby. He’s wearing a dark suit.’

Queenie’s heart sank. ‘What! Is that the one you fancy?’

Doreen beamed from ear to ear. ‘Yes. I didn’t think he was going to turn up. I must pop to the ladies to powder my nose. Hold my drink for me.’

When Doreen shot off, Queenie stared at the man again. She wouldn’t stand a cat in hell’s chance of snaring him if Doreen had designs on him, that was for sure.

‘I think you should have a soft drink now, Doreen, like Queenie and me. You’re looking rather tipsy and my dad will be ever so angry if you’re sick in his car,’ Eliza warned as the evening wore on.

Doreen flung her arm in the air. She felt heady with excitement since her mystery man had arrived and was trying to pluck up the courage to talk to him. ‘I’m not drunk and I promise I won’t be sick. I’ll have another gin. Honest, I’m fine.’

Queenie thought the pianist was fantastic. He played and sang along to all the songs she’d sung over and over again with her aunt. He also called others up to sing. A middle-aged lady had given a brilliant rendition of Gracie Field’s ‘Sally’, and an elderly gentleman had sung ‘The Lambeth Walk’ in spectacular fashion. He’d even done a little dance to it with his walking stick.

‘Can I have my old mucker, Albie, up ’ere to give us a song,’ bellowed the pianist. Queenie held her breath as Albie brushed past her. So that was his name solved.

‘I’m Gonna Sit Right Down and Write Myself a Letter’ was Albie’s song choice and Doreen was right about his voice. There was a silky tone to it and he sang the song beautifully, effortlessly.

Doreen arrived back from the bar. ‘Told you, didn’t I? Wasn’t he just born to sing? I think I’m in love.’

‘His name’s Albie,’ Eliza informed Doreen.

‘I must talk to him. I have to find out if he’s single,’ Doreen replied. She didn’t usually get nervous around men, but Albie made her heart beat wildly.

After receiving a rapturous round of applause, the pianist played another song, then counted down from twenty, shouted ‘Happy New Year’ before handing the mike back to Albie, who sang ‘Auld Lang Syne’. Everybody grouped together while singing along. Queenie even held the hand of the lad in the cap and braces who’d been eyeing her up all evening. He introduced himself as Terry afterwards, and Queenie was even less impressed when she realized he was also a coalman and the hair poking out from under his hat was ginger. She certainly didn’t want ginger children. They’d get picked on at school like Sally Sharp in her class. So when he asked her out, she politely declined.