The group was improving, however. When Dave sang in harmony with Lenny they sounded modern, more like the Beatles. And Dave had persuaded Lenny to try some different material, authentic Chicago blues and danceable Detroit soul, the kind of thing the younger groups were playing. As a result they were getting more dates. Instead of once a fortnight, they were now booked every Friday and Saturday night.

But Dave had another reason for anxiety. He had got this gig by asking Evie’s boyfriend, Hank Remington, to recommend the group. But Hank had turned his nose up at their name. “The Guardsmen sounds old-fashioned, like the Four Aces, and the Jordanaires,” he had said.

“We might change it,” Dave had said, willing to do anything for a booking at the Jump Club.

“The latest vogue is a name from an old blues, like the Rolling Stones.”

Dave recalled a track by Booker T. and the MGs that he had heard a few days earlier. He had been struck by its oddball name. “How about Plum Nellie?” he had said.

Hank had liked that, and told the club they should try out a new group called Plum Nellie. A suggestion from someone as famous as Hank was like a command, and the group got the gig.

But when Dave had proposed the name change, Lenny had turned it down flat. “The Guardsmen we are, and the Guardsmen we stay,” he had said mulishly, and started talking about something else. Dave had not dared to tell him the Jump Club already thought they were called Plum Nellie.

Now the crisis was approaching.

At the sound check they played “Lucille.” After the first verse, Dave stopped and turned to the lead guitarist, Geoffrey. “What the fuck was that?” Dave said.

“What?”

“You played something weird halfway through.”

Geoffrey gave a knowing smile. “Nothing. It’s just a passing chord.”

“It’s not on the record.”

“What’s the matter, can’t you play C sharp diminished?”

Dave knew exactly what was going on. Geoffrey was trying to show him up as a beginner. But unfortunately Dave had never heard of a diminished chord.

Lenny said: “Known to pub pianists as a double minor, Dave.”

Swallowing his pride, Dave said to Geoffrey: “Show me.”

Geoffrey rolled up his eyes and sighed, but he demonstrated the chord shape. “Like that, all right?” he said wearily, as if tired of dealing with amateurs.

Dave copied the chord. It was not difficult. “Next time, tell me before we play the fucking song,” he said.

After that it went well. Phil Burleigh, the owner of the club, entered in the middle and listened. Being prematurely bald, he was naturally known as Curly Burleigh. At the end he nodded approval. “Thank you, Plum Nellie,” he said.

Lenny shot a filthy look at Dave. “The group is called the Guardsmen,” he said firmly.

Dave said: “We discussed changing it.”

“You discussed it. I said no.”

Curly said: “The Guardsmen is a terrible name, mate.”

“It’s what we’re called.”