Kerry was not lying in bed, she was sitting in her small kitchen with Evander eating toast and drinking strong black tea, full of sugar. Evander was wearing just his trousers and shirt, Kerry was in a silk dressing gown.

‘Tell me about Alabama, Evander, please? You never really tell me anything about America.’

Evander chewed on his toast slowly, deliberately annoying her. He knew that Kerry was impatient. Pulling his arms open, she sat on his lap.

‘Come on, Evander, don’t annoy me.’

He kissed her on the lips.

‘There’s nothing to tell, Kerry, really. Nothing that would interest you anyway.’

She took a bite of his toast. Licking the butter from her lips, she said: ‘I’m serious, I want to know about your life there.’

Her voice had lost its jocularity now and Evander hugged her to him.

‘Look, Kerry, let’s just say it’s very different from England.’

Kerry pulled herself up and looked at him sternly. ‘For crying out loud, I’m not a kid, Evander! Stop treating me like one. If I ever go there, I want to know what to expect.’

He placed the remains of the toast on his plate and carefully wiped his hands on a napkin. This was becoming a regular occurrence. Kerry had a mad idea that they could go to Paris and live there, eventually going to America. No matter how hard he tried to dampen her enthusiasm, she would brook no argument on the subject. Looking at her now, standing with her hands on her hips, he knew the time had come for the real truth. He had to tell her everything. And somehow he had to explain to her exactly why they could never really be together. Not as man and wife.

‘Sit down, Kerry. Sit down and keep your peace, woman. I’ll tell you what you want to know.’ His voice was low. Sitting herself in a chair opposite him, Kerry picked up her tea and waited, her face bright, as if lit from inside.

‘Go on then.’

Evander wiped his mouth with his napkin and began to talk in a low sing-song voice.

‘I was born in 1896 in a small place just outside Birmingham.’

‘We’ve got a Birmingham here!’

Evander nodded and held his hand up for quiet. Now he had decided to tell her his story, he wanted her to hear it all.

‘My father was a drifter, he was half-white. My mother, Liselle, lived on a small farm with her father. My three elder brothers were her father’s children.’

Kerry screwed up her eyes at this and Evander could practically hear her mind clicking as she worked out the relationships.