'I didn't see it, I'm afraid,' he replied.

Hurst stuck his head through the hatch which led into the social room.

'Right, Sid,' he said. 'All clear.'

'Your order, gentlemen. Marcus, you're on tonight as well, aren't you?' 'Christ, so I am. I could have been legitimately behind the bar all this time. Are you staying, Connie?'

Connon shook his head.

'I'm late already. Mary's expecting me for tea.'

'She doesn't know you were playing, then?'

'How could she? I didn't know myself till Arthur grabbed me when I got here and wept Welsh tears all over me.'

'Best of luck, then. See you tomorrow.'

'Perhaps.' 'Come on, Marcus!' came a cry from the bar. The room was now full and the social room hatch was also crowded with faces. Marcus barged his way through the crowd and was soon serving drinks from the other side of the counter.

Connon held the last of his whisky in his mouth. He felt reluctant to move though he knew he was already late. In fact he tried to catch Arthur Evans's eye but the little Welshman either missed him or ignored him. Connon smiled at himself, recognizing his own desire to be pressed to stay. A group of young men with their girls crowded round his table and he stood up. Thank you, Mr Connon,' said one of the girls as she slipped into his chair. Connon nodded vaguely at her, suspecting he recognized one of his daughter's schoolfriends under the mysterious net of hair which swayed over her face. She brushed it back and smiled up at him. He was right. Seventeen years old, glowing with unselfconscious beauty. She had a piece of tomato skin stuck in the crack between her two front teeth.