‘Good afternoon, campers!’ he called jovially.

There was a scattered muttering of ‘Good afternoon, Mr Anderson.’

The man picked up a cut-glass tumbler from the trolley and took a leisurely gulp of the amber liquid it contained.

‘And how are we this afternoon, Mavis?’ he asked Mrs Hargreaves, who beamed back.

‘Don’t you worry about me, Mr A! This old heart will see me out.’

‘I dare say it will, Mavis. I dare say it will. Although not I trust before you’ve taken the opportunity to attend to the little matter we discussed the other day.’

He gave Mrs Hargreaves a broad wink.

‘I’m giving it a piece of my mind, Mr A,’ she replied.

‘While the rest of that picturesque organ pursues the more abstruse ramifications of unified field theory, no doubt.’

Mrs Hargreaves gave him an arch look.

‘Rome wasn’t built yesterday,’ she said.

Anderson took another gulp of his drink.

‘True. I would none the less draw your attention to the equally well-attested facts that man-or, in your case, woman-does not live by bread alone, and that there is no time like the present. Incidentally it may interest you to know that another of our number has recently taken the pledge, I mean plunge. Unfortunately I’m not at liberty to reveal her name, or indeed sex…’

Mrs Hargreaves giggled.

‘Beg pardon?’

‘”Sex”, Mavis. What people have in at least one sense and occasionally two, although not for some considerable time in my case and yours too I should imagine, but don’t get any ideas. As I was saying, the benefactor asked to remain anonymous for reasons which I am of course bound to respect, although I confess myself unable to fathom them.’