Frank shook his great head and grimaced. ‘There’s plenty willing to be taken on, but most of them don’t know one end of a boat from another, and haven’t the slightest idea of how to work a trawler.’ He chuckled. ‘I took a couple of men out the other day when it was as flat as a mill pond, and they spent the entire time throwing up over the side.’

‘What about the old crew? Haven’t they come looking to take up their jobs again?’

Frank’s expressive face showed his sadness. ‘Five never came back from the Atlantic convoys, two were wounded in France and won’t work on boats again, and another two have decided to retire.’ He heaved a deep breath and let it out on a sigh. ‘There are just enough of us to man the two trawlers, but the rest of the boats are lying up idle.’

‘At least the trawlers should bring in enough to pay the wages,’ said Ron. ‘And of course, you’ve got the rents from those cottages. You made a good move there, son.’

Frank nodded. ‘The rents certainly help, but there’s still a lot of work to be done to get those cottages how I want them.’ He sipped his tea and lit a cigarette, watching the dogs cavort in the shallows. ‘I hear Rosie’s got involved with the local election. I never took her as someone who was interested in politics.’

Ron grinned. ‘I don’t think she ever was really, until bread and potatoes were rationed for the first time, and the prices shot through the roof. She hears a lot from behind the bar, and realised things had to change for the better, so started going to the candidates’ meetings. Now she’s all fired up and even talking about standing as a Labour candidate in next year’s local council elections.’

Frank’s brows lifted and he stared at his father in disbelief. ‘Labour?’

‘Aye, it surprised me too,’ admitted Ron. ‘Her family were all staunch Tories, and that’s where I thought her loyalties lay, but she’s swallowed Labour’s promises hook, line and sinker, and has joined up with them. She’s now spending every spare hour handing out leaflets and knocking on doors. The bar has become a meeting place during closing time, and election fever is high.’ He gave a sniff of disapproval. ‘I stay out of the way as much as I can, because airing my Tory opinions only causes heated arguments.’

‘Oh, Da,’ groaned Frank. ‘You and Rosie haven’t fallen out, have you?’

Ron shook his head before draining the mug of tea. ‘We leave politics outside the bedroom door, and have agreed to disagree on the matter. To be sure, I’ll just be glad when it’s all over and done with and we can go back to a peaceful life.’