Kerry nodded, and studied herself in the mirror once more. She was looking forward to seeing Evander tonight, she had some news for him. A club owner from France had heard about her singing and had offered her a spot with her band in his club, the Joie de Vivre. She had told her agent she was very interested. It was the break she had been praying for. She had convinced herself that France was the place where she and Evander could be together. The French were much more open-minded. Somehow they would be all right there, if only they could get away from London. She felt a small shiver of excitement in her breast. Her main aim in life was to stop him going back to the States. Stop him from leaving her. And now she had the handle she needed. She was surprised to find her champagne glass was once more empty and, turning to Julian, said: ‘Do you know where Bernadette is?’

He smiled and said, ‘She left about an hour ago.’

Kerry frowned.

‘Are you sure? Only we were supposed to be having a drink before we went home.’

Julian shrugged.

‘Perhaps she forgot.’

Kerry smiled, but she was puzzled. Bernadette had been very insistent.

‘Maybe. Goodnight, Julian.’

‘Goodnight, Miss. You sang like a little bird tonight. It was a pleasure to listen to you.

‘Thanks. See you tomorrow.’

Kerry left the club. Five minutes later she was on the corner of the street where she normally picked up Evander. He was nowhere to be seen.

She waited ten minutes and then drove herself home.

Evander was sitting in the back of a large car between two men he had never seen before. Kevin Carter, Briony’s driver, was in the front. No one had said a word since they’d bundled him inside. He could feel the sweat rolling down his forehead and into his eyes. Evander was a big man, and strong, but there was no way he could hope to fight his way out of this situation. Knowing this, he became calm inside. He knew what they were going to do to him, he knew they were aware of his relationship with Kerry Cavanagh. He knew the time had come to pay the piper.

‘Can I smoke?’ His voice, he was glad to hear, came out strong, without a trace of terror.

‘Only if I set fire to you.’ Kevin Carter’s voice was hard, but the other two men laughed as if it was a big joke.

‘That’s what happens to blokes like you in the States, ain’t it? You get burnt alive on crosses. I read about it in the paper. The Ku Klux Klan, they’re called, ain’t they?’