‘What’s wrong with your face?’ she asks. ‘You look miserable. It’s Saturday. Party night. And pay day.’

Ruby takes a sip of her drink and opens her handbag, hunting for cigarettes.

‘Good job. I need the cash.’

The rest of the Forties drift in slowly, mostly in pairs. There will be as many women here tonight as men, because it’s Saturday. Doll sits in the corner, talking to herself, cutting up a cabbage on the table with a large knife and tipping the slices into a saucepan. Her pint of brown stout is half-drunk already. The men are fewer in number than usual – some of them were arrested at the fight in Clerkenwell last week and are awaiting trial. The ones who have turned up, like Charlie Wagstaff, are still wearing bruises and battle scars as proudly as they wear their war medals.

Annie Richmond enters the saloon, arm in arm with Maggs. They pause at the bar to talk with Clara, and Ronald buys them both a drink. Albert is one of those in a police cell. Edith tells Ruby that Ron left him at the fight and drove off in his car. Bert is furious. Howling curses from behind bars. She heard this from Maggs.

Maggs looks to be in a cheerful mood.

‘And George was arrested by the police, like Bert.’ Edith has all the news. She’s talking to Ruby without worrying whether Ruby is listening. She’s been working in Grace’s warehouse today, helping to sort clothes. She’s been picking over the best of them for herself. She always does. She has picked up all the gossip as well.

‘George?’

‘George Dunning. Alf told Maggs that he went for a copper with a knife – we all know what he’s like when he’s fired up. It’s serious this time. He’ll be inside for a lot longer than Alice. When she gets out of Holloway, she’ll have the house to herself.’

Finally, Ruby breaks into a chuckle. ‘Lucky old Alice. We’ll have the party at her house when she comes out.’

‘We’ll throw out all his clothes and stuff, and he can find himself a new home when he’s served his time.’

‘We should try and get word to her. She’d love to hear it.’

‘If we can’t reach her before the trial, Annie’ll shout it across the court to her.’ Edith laughs. ‘There’ll be a fuss in the gallery if she does, but Annie won’t mind, and I doubt the judge will trouble himself over it.’

‘Daisy!’ Ruby, now more animated by the gin and the good news about Alice’s husband, spots Daisy Gould enter the saloon by herself. Without Harry, she looks lost, thinner. Her weary eyes catch Ruby waving to her, and her mouth curls into a half-hearted smile.

‘Daisy looks rough,’ Ruby mutters. ‘She’s taking it really hard, Harry being inside.’