The shops, offices and factories were closed, and it was way past the usual lunchtime closing hour, but the government had permitted the opening hours to be extended over the next two days as long as they shut at ten-thirty p.m. It seemed everyone was determined to take full advantage of the situation by trying to drink the two Cliffehaven pubs dry. Gloria at the Crown and Rosie at the Anchor had ordered in extra stock as soon as it seemed likely peace was at hand, but even with full cellars, they doubted it would last the week if the previous couple of days had been anything to go by.

Ron swept Rosie into his arms as the packed crowd in the Anchor continued their noisy celebration and the two dogs barked excitedly. He kissed her long and passionately whilst their customers formed a circle around them and began to dance and sing the hokey-cokey, their feet stamping so hard the vibrations rocked the furniture and made the bottles and glasses rattle on the shelves.

‘They’ll bring the roof down in a minute,’ giggled a breathless Rosie. ‘Quick, help me get the piano outside so they can dance on the pavement.’

‘Leave it to me,’ said Ron firmly. He did his best to ignore the raucous comments aimed at his newly married status as he squeezed his way through the happy crowd to the old piano. He finally made it and grabbed hold of one side. But as he attempted to tug it across the uneven floor, a stab of pain shot through his lower back and left him gasping. It was a forcible reminder that, although his injuries from the accident in the tunnel some months ago had healed, hauling pianos about wasn’t a good idea.

To hide his chagrin at the loss of the strength he’d once possessed, he quickly collared two of the nearest men and ordered them to get the piano outside. This was achieved swiftly, despite being hampered by the dogs, Monty and Harvey, who thought this was a wonderful game.

Within minutes someone was hammering out a polka on the out-of-tune keys and people were dancing. Then, as if from nowhere, tables and chairs were being brought out into the middle of Camden Road. Carefully ironed white sheets were used as tablecloths and soon hidden beneath plates of sandwiches, bowls of jellies, teapots, and cups and jugs of watered-down orange squash. Every child wore a hat made from sheets of newspaper, and was given a lollipop and balloon by the new manager of the Home and Colonial Store who hadn’t proved popular with the housewives and was trying to curry favour.