Its furnishings were simple—wood tables and chairs, the walls covered with ale signs, certificates of inspection, a dart board, all proudly displayed along with a large photograph of the Queen and a smaller one of the Prince of Wales. The public house's wood floors hadn't seen wax in a very long time. The brass at its rails was dented but shining. Nonetheless, the place had an air of goodwill that was attractive. As Mick and Winnie came in, a dozen people greeted them. Several greeted him by name. He was a regular.At the back, the musical trio caroused through the Offenbach rearranged to suit working-class tastes. A man with a bald spot on his head played the piano so hard his hands bounced off the keys. A swarthy man with baggy eyes sawed a bow back and forth on a violin. A rather talented young man rattled sticks across glasses and cans and anything else he could hit. If people got within reach, he'd play their buttons.Patrons sat at long tables together, elbow to elbow, though there were still places available.
