Delilah raised her plucked eyebrows and said: ‘You can charge them double, see? It’s a terrible thing really because the poor people have no choice, do they? It’s robbery. And the men seem quite refined and well dressed. In fact, I heard they work in your Briony’s club. Must be her band, eh?’

She gave a tinkling little laugh that she thought sounded very ladylike, and which she practised when she was alone.

Molly’s face dropped now. If they worked for her daughter they were her property, so to speak. Briony was responsible for them. Her eyes narrowed and she said, ‘Charging the poor buggers double, is she? Why, them boys of Briony’s are cleaner than most whites, my Kerry told me that herself! Works with them, doesn’t she? She should know, it stands to reason. Can’t stomach the buggers meself.’

‘I’ve seen Kerry there, actually, Moll. A few times, in fact. That’s what brought me here today. I don’t want to gossip or cause any trouble, you know, but a girl’s reputation is her greatest asset...’ She foundered under Molly’s direct gaze.

‘Go on then, Delilah, spit it out.’

‘Well, people have noticed. Look, Molly, I’m here as a friend so will you stop staring at me like that? You’re making me nervous!’

‘Are you saying what I think you’re saying? That my Kerry’s black man’s meat. Is that what you dolled yourself up for today, to come and bring lies and filth into my home?’

Delilah stood up abruptly.

‘I’m sorry, Molly, I thought you’d want to know. If it was my daughter... I mean, I’m not saying that anything’s going on, but she picks him up from there in a car, they chat and talk like ... well, like people who are more than friends. I’m telling you before anyone else does.’

Molly chewed on her bottom lip, her face a mask of dismay.

‘I’ll see myself out, Moll. ’Bye, Rosalee love.’

She kissed Rosalee and left hurriedly, rushing up the lane as fast as she could. Sorry now for interfering.

‘They chat and talk like people who are more than friends...’

Kerry had no place being friends with blackies, that was what was bothering Molly. True, she was a singer, a bit bohemian, but that was Kerry. But Molly uneasily remembered her sitting in this kitchen one day and arguing the toss about black people when her mother had made some disparaging comments. She’d been defending her man, the big mysterious man they’d all assumed was married or, as Molly had thought, a man of substance, gentry, a lord. When all the time he was a black man, a dirty stinking black man!