Evander’s friend and confidant Glennford Randall shook his head as he looked at his friend.

‘I’m telling you, man, that girl spells trouble for you. No white meat ever tasted any different to black. You’re gonna get hurt, I know it.’

Evander sighed heavily, his deep black skin shiny in the lights of the club.

‘Kerry’s different, man. She’s real, something special.’

Glennford laughed. ‘She’s got a pair of tits and a splitarse, she ain’t no different to any other woman in the world! She can get pregnant and, boy, if she does, you’re a dead man.’

Evander watched his friend walk away, his long rangy body loping across the wooden stage. Kerry came out of her dressing room and smiled at him.

‘Why so sad? What are you thinking about?’

Evander looked into her lovely face and felt the familiar tightening in his guts. She was exquisite, she was young, she was exciting, and she was milk white. It was a heady combination.

‘I wasn’t thinking about anything in particular, baby. Are we still on for tonight?’

‘Yes, and I have a surprise for you. Bernie’s staying at my mother’s so we have the flat to ourselves. You can stay ’til the morning.’

Evander went to touch her arm when Tommy Lane came bowling up to them.

‘All right, Evander? Listen, Briony’s going to be a bit late tonight but she wants the sets a bit longer. Another couple of numbers in each one, could you manage that?’

Evander and Kerry nodded. Tommy was too caught up in his own affairs to notice the redness of Kerry’s face and neck.

‘The punters like a dance so we thought a few more lively numbers wouldn’t go amiss. Now before I forget, there’s a men’s outfitters in Dean Street and the bloke’s going to measure you boys up for some new stage clothes. At the moment you’re all a bit bland, you know? We thought a nice deep green or a deep blue, whatever. You see the bloke and choose for yourselves. We’ll be picking up the tab so don’t go overboard!’

‘Yes, sir, Mr Lane.’ Evander’s voice held the bland neutrality inherent to a black man and Tommy whacked him on the shoulder and said, ‘For fuck’s sakes, call me Tommy. All this Mr Lane and sir is going to me head!’

He ambled off to find a drink and Evander looked at Kerry. She saw the stark fear in his eyes and felt a lump form in her throat. He was scared of Tommy, was scared of all white men. They slapped you on the back one minute and put you in your place the next. She knew what he was thinking and felt a great sorrow for him.

‘Tommy’s all right, Evander. He means what he said.’