“I didn’t tell her anything!” Dougie said, hurt. “I said I couldn’t tell her anything. Anyway, leave it out, Yorkie already had a go at me earlier. Careless talk costs lives—I’m not daft!”

Chip said, “Taff’s not sore about careless talk. He’s sore because you’re blabbing about him and Ignacy.”

Silver said, “Aw, keep quiet, you stupid Yank.”

“I’m not a Yank, you stupid Jew!”

Jamie swore—“Break it up! Silver! TEX!”—and Nan cried, “Lads, lads!” but Dougie blethered cheerfully: “A Scot’s a Scot, a Pole’s a Pole, a Taff’s a Taff. So why isn’t a Yank—”

Derfel growled, “I said shut your gob, you Aussie prick.”

Chip and Bill swapped glances, then both turned back to look at Derfel.

Chip said, “A pansy—”

And Pimms all lost their heads.

“Oik!”

“Pom!”

“Sheep-shagger!”

“Yid!”

“Bloody ENGLISH!” Jamie roared at his best mate, and Chip and Derfel tumbled over the flagstones trying to beat each other’s brains out.

Jamie and Silver dived after Chip. Ignacy went for Derfel. A tableful of glasses crashed to the floor. Phyllis shrieked and jumped up, knocking over her chair; Jane knocked over her sticks. Louisa and I stared. It was like we’d chucked a match into a tank of petrol.

Ignacy pulled Derfel off by the back of his collar. They fell into a guddle of broken glass and spilt beer, cursing in Welsh and Polish.

That wildcat Chip Wingate wouldn’t stop. Jamie and Silver sat on him, but he kept fighting, and Adam Stedman piled in. They pinned him until he lay completely squashed, heaving angry breaths.

What a way to win a war, aye?

Poor Jamie looked up at us shocked women, me and Louisa and Jane and Phyllis by the fire, Nancy and Morag behind the bar. He glowed red to the tips of his ears.

“I’m—I—”

Nan Campbell stood agape with her hair bunching out of its grips. Never had I seen her so close to weeping.

Then Morag babbled the most gob-smacking propaganda-poster display of British bulldog spirit: “Och, it’s to be expected. Boys will be boys.”

God pity us, isn’t that the exact blether of Dougie’s that started off the stramash?

I’d suddenly had enough.