Rosie didn’t feel like getting into an argument, for it would merely prolong things, and her high-heeled shoes were making her feet ache. ‘Just a half, then,’ she conceded.

‘Ron not helping out today?’ the woman asked, her pale eyes glinting slyly beneath the grubby knotted headscarf.

‘He’s busy with his son and grandson, if you must know,’ said Rosie, placing the glass on the counter and taking the woman’s money. ‘You’ve got five minutes to drink that, Olive, then I’m locking the door.’ She tugged down on the bell pull to signal time.

Olive’s unpleasant smile revealed teeth that probably hadn’t seen a brush for years. ‘So you know where they are, then?’

Rosie took a shallow breath and eyed her evenly. ‘If you’ve got something to say, Olive, then get on with it. I haven’t got time to play your silly games.’

Olive slurped down some beer and wiped her mouth on her dirty sleeve. ‘Well, if you’re going to be like that, I won’t bother telling you about Ron and Gloria Stevens.’

Rosie felt a dart of alarm but managed to hide it by keeping her expression blank. ‘Then I won’t bother listening to it, Olive. Finish your drink and take your gossip with you when you leave.’

She turned to put the money in the till and serve Major Radwell, who was at the other end of the bar patiently waiting for a refill. ‘Sorry about that, Major. Another gin, is it?’

‘Gloria chucked him out of the pub and sent him off with a flea in his ear,’ Olive announced gleefully. ‘His ferrets ran riot and I reckon they did at least a fiver’s worth of damage, which he offered to pay for with a couple of dead rabbits.’

It took all of Rosie’s will power to finish pouring the gin without spilling a drop before she took the Major’s money and rang it up on the till. She would not be drawn into Olive’s spiteful gossip, let alone react to it. She’d learnt over all the years of running a pub that ignoring remarks like that was the best way of dealing with them. The last thing she needed today was to get into a dust-up with the odious Olive.

And yet as she began to clear glasses and wipe down the bar she couldn’t help but hear Olive regaling the last few customers with what Ron had been up to at the Crown and how the sparks had been flying between him and Gloria Stevens. Olive’s stories were often embellished, and slanted by her bias, but there was always some truth in her tittle-tattle, and as her story was being corroborated by one of her other customers, Rosie had little doubt that Ron had definitely gone into the Crown and had some sort of altercation with that tart Gloria.