First of all, they insisted on her taking another name and put a label on her left breast saying Chiffon – Hostess. What sort of name was that, Chiffon? Feeling very underdressed, she wandered out into the bar area. It didn’t feel as friendly tonight, for some reason, and her job meant she had to dance with anyone who asked her, which meant some horrible men, old ones as well as young. Some eyed her as if she was naked and pawed her, laughing when she batted their hands away from her breasts and told them to stop.

She wanted to run away but didn’t dare, because the manager kept strolling past. Each time he stopped to watch her, occasionally signalling to smile more. By the end of the evening her face was aching with the effort of keeping the smile there.

When the club closed, one obnoxious man asked to go home with her and wouldn’t take no for an answer, holding tight to her arm and trying to drag her towards the door. To her relief, the manager came to her rescue, pacifying the customer but holding on to her so that she couldn’t get away.

He turned to her and asked in a low voice, ‘Sure you don’t want to take him up on his offer?’

‘Definitely not.’

‘You could earn three times as much money for an extra half-hour’s work. And I could find you a safe place to entertain him.’

She glared at him. ‘I’d never, ever do that sort of thing and if it’s expected, then I quit.’

He shrugged. ‘Your loss. And it’s not expected, as I told you, so no need to get your knickers in a twist. It’s merely an optional extra. Now, would you like a hit to celebrate your first evening’s work? It’s on the house tonight.’

‘No, thank you. I’m so tired all I want to do is go home and sleep. Can you call me a taxi, please?’

‘You’re a foolish girl. Some of the other hostesses earn a hell of a lot more than you have.’ As she opened her mouth, he held up one hand to stop her speaking. ‘OK, OK. I’ll call you a taxi. Staff use the back entrance.’

All she could think of on the way home was that Ross was right, and they did want her to go into prostitution. The mere thought of that made her feel sick.

Perhaps she should throw herself on her mother’s mercy?

No, she couldn’t, definitely couldn’t bear to do that. Look at how she’d lost it that time and attacked her mum, who had been furious, and with reason. What would her dad have said to that sort of behaviour? He’d have been really upset with her. And she was ashamed of it, herself.

No, she had to get out of this mess on her own, so she’d give the nightclub work one more try, see if they’d got the message about what she was available for, and eke out the money she earned there very carefully.