‘Oh, I loves it!’ she trilled happily, plonking her rump down on a stool next to us. I’ve been every night ’cept last night. Missed it ’cos of work, but a pal of mine has recorded it.’

‘Recorded it?’ said Madam.

‘Yes, love. He works on the halls. A “Memory Man” he is. He can remember every last scrap of the show. Does all the voices and everything. Apparently there was this pillock what fell out of the flys right onto his—’

‘Yes, yes,’ said the Doctor quickly. ‘And what about the acts?’

‘“The Boneless Wonder” was my favourite, sir,’ said Sally mournfully. ‘But he got knocked out. Seems you can only wrap your legs round your head a few times before the public gets bored.’

‘They’re terribly fickle like that,’ said the Doctor.

‘And what about the singer?’ I asked. ‘Anne Dante?’

Sally winked at me. ‘I knew you’d be giving her the glad eye, Jen. A beauty she is! And that voice! Like sumfink sent from On High. It’s hers for the taking, I reckon.’

‘And the judges?’ said Madam.

Sally pulled a face and started to wrap one of her curls round her finger. ‘Rum lot. That Irishman is a bit silly. Polly Whatshername – Polly Wallydoodle – she used to be a singer – well, they say she’s always taking all sorts of pills and potions to keep the years at bay. Monkey glands, I shouldn’t wonder. And as for that Mortlock … ’

‘Yes?’ The Doctor’s forehead creased into frowns like tram lines.

‘People love to hate him. And he plays up to that, of course. But I dunno. I think there’s sumfink really queer about him. Diabolical.’

That night, outside the old Pom, a crowd of people was swarming around the stage door. It was a sea of shiny toppers and gaily turned out bonnets, and I was stationed among them, keeping a weather eye on it all. But three of the throng, pressed close to the railings, had a particularly unhealthy pallor and their crumpled apparel would give distress to the denizens of Savile Row.

‘Excuse me!’ said the first – a rotund man called Arthur, who had a big head like a baby’s and cross eyes, one looking at you, one looking for you – as the crowd surged forward. ‘Do you mind?’ he hissed. ‘The nerve of some people. Were they here all last week? No they bloomin’ well were not.’ Arthur pitched his voice up so as to be heard above the din. ‘We’ve loved Miss Dante right from the start! Not like you lot!’