He was leaning on the bar, foot on the brass rail one hand in his trouser pocket the other round a glass of porter. It was a moment before he was aware of her at his side. He turned slowly, blinked and focused his eyes. ‘If it isn’t one of the girls with the golden voices!’ He leaned back, both elbows on the bar. ‘Didn’t expect to see you here.’ ‘You asked me to come,’ said Peggy. ‘You sent me flowers.’ ‘Did I? Oh yes.’ He looked her up and down. ‘Where are they then? ‘My mother took them home for me.’ ‘Oh well, now you’re here, would you like a drink?’ Peggy had never tasted alcohol, but she wasn’t going to let him know that. ‘I’ll have …’ A Bombay Gin advert caught her eye. ‘I’ll have gin, please’ He laughed. ‘A spirit drinker, eh?’ He ordered her drink and another glass of porter. ‘Better put some tonic in that gin,’ he called to the barmaid and winked at Peggy. ‘You don’t want to end up worse for wear.’ ‘Did you enjoy the show?’ Peggy asked.
