His mind was working furiously as he filled glasses and took the money, and when there was a lull, he approached Beryl again. ‘Did she say where she was going?’

The woman shook her head. ‘She just said it was important, and if she wasn’t back before closing to lock up for her.’

Ron frowned and went back to serving until he had a chance to speak to her again. ‘Did she go out on her own?’ he asked Beryl, who was older than Flo and less inclined to exaggerate.

‘I don’t know, Ron,’ she said impatiently. ‘She opened up for me and Flo and then left through the side door. But she took Monty with her, so she can’t have gone far.’

Ron felt enormously relieved. If she’d taken Monty then she wasn’t off to some posh dinner or the theatre with the Major – but where the heck could she be?

‘No sign of the Major this evening,’ he remarked nonchalantly.

Beryl shrugged. ‘He doesn’t come in every night, and with the weather so bad I doubt he could get a lift in from the Memorial tonight.’

Ron considered this and decided it made sense, for the military hospital was situated on the other side of the surrounding hills, but jealousy sparked at the realisation that the Major had managed it earlier this morning, which didn’t ease his concern over where Rosie had gone tonight – and if she really was on her own.

He continued serving, his gaze drifting repeatedly to the large clock above the bar as yet another hour passed. The noise level was rising along with the cigarette and pipe smoke that now hung in a thick pall beneath the heavy beams of the low ceiling. Someone was bashing out a tune on the old piano which encouraged others to try and sing along, but it was a horrible noise, and he wondered if that was how he’d sounded the night before – in which case he couldn’t blame Rosie for upending the swill bucket on him.

It was getting hot and stuffy in here, but the blackout rules meant they couldn’t throw open windows and doors, and all the noise was beginning to give him a headache. I must be getting old, he thought dolefully, for I usually enjoy a lively night – but it’s not the same without Rosie, and that’s a fact.

It was gone eight o’clock when he heard a kerfuffle by the door, looked up to see who was causing it, and saw a white-faced Peggy pushing her way towards him. Dashing from behind the bar, he led her into the relative quiet of the narrow hallway. ‘What’s happened?’

‘It’s Rita. We can’t find her, and we’ve looked everywhere in Cliffehaven.’