‘Is that a decoration on the pie?’ asked Dr Parry-Jones.

‘It’s a V,’ said Noel, cutting a slice straight through it. ‘It was a hasty late addition, after I heard about the German capitulation on the three o’clock news. It should have been “VE”, really, of course, but I ran out of pastry scraps.’

‘So it’s official? The war’s over? But there’s been nothing from Mr Churchill.’

‘Perhaps he’s still writing his speech,’ said Mr Reddish.

‘He must have known the end was coming,’ said Vee. ‘What’s he been doing? Reading a book?’ Both Noel and Gerry laughed, but it was true. The last few weeks had been like a bath being drained: almost imperceptible change giving way to a faint stirring, and then suddenly it was all gurgling down the plughole, the Russians pouring into Berlin, Hitler dead at last. What on earth were they waiting for? A bell?

‘Well, I’m going down to Trafalgar Square, anyway,’ said Miss Appleby. ‘I’ll probably be very late, Mrs Overs, but I’ll tiptoe in. The end of the war only comes once in a lifetime, doesn’t it?’

‘Twice,’ said Dr Parry-Jones and Mr Reddish simultaneously.

‘Oh, yes, I forgot about that one,’ said Miss Appleby. Embarrassed, she started to twist her engagement ring and then seemed to remember that it wasn’t there any more.

‘On the final day of the Great War, I was working in the cashier’s office in Aldershot,’ said Mr Reddish. ‘There was a private sweeping the yard outside. When eleven o’clock struck, he swung the broom round his head in a great circle and let it go, as if it were a hammer, and it went straight through the window of the officers’ mess. I have never forgotten it. Today was less memorable. I started a new double-entry book.’ He left a brooding pause.

‘That’s why I’m going into town,’ said Miss Appleby. ‘If I’m ever asked what I was doing on the last day of the war, I don’t want to have to say I was typing a memorandum about balsa-wood shortages.’

‘Pursuing one’s work is nothing to be ashamed of,’ said Dr Parry-Jones. ‘Noel, for instance, in future years can look back with pride on the fact that today he received ninety-nine per cent in an essay on the oxidation of salts.’

‘Why didn’t he get a hundred per cent?’ demanded Vee. From the corner of her eye she caught Gerry looking amused – I enjoy it when you unsheathe your sword on Noel’s behalf, as he put it – and she turned away to stop herself smiling.

‘Perfection is not within human reach,’ said the doctor. ‘It may be approached, but not achieved. Somewhat like Zeno’s arrow.’

Mr Reddish raised his head like a hound scenting entrails. ‘“I shot an arrow in the air – it fell to earth I know not where. For, so swiftly it flew, the sight, could not follow it in its flight.” Beloved, immortal Longfellow. I shall be giving my Hiawatha at a victory concert on Saturday at the Masons’ Hall in Kentish Town, should anyone wish for a congenial evening of varied entertainment. The young lady who is organizing it told me that all tickets are in aid of the Hampstead Widows and Orphans Fund.’