Bessie and Liselle helped Kerry dress for her television appearance. After appearing on the Music Show on BBC2, at Briony’s instigation, Kerry had enjoyed a little of her former fame. Now, a year on, she was taking on quite a few engagements. Liselle was over the moon at the turn events had taken. She was now her mother’s manager, which cut down the number of visits to see her father in New York but which nevertheless pleased her immensely.

‘This deep green suits you, Mum, it brings out the highlights in your eyes. You’ll look well on camera.’

Kerry sighed slightly.

She didn’t care that much about her looks, she was more interested in getting in the green room before the show and having a quick snifter of vodka. She made the effort and smiled though.

‘Thanks, darlin’. I think I’ll shock quite a few people this time with my choice of song. I mean, me on the Old Grey Whistle Test! At my age.’

Her laughter was genuine.

‘Listen, Mum, John Peel knows a good thing when he hears it. There’s a big jazz revival that’s been going on since the late-fifties. It was only a matter of time before you were remembered. You were one of the best blues and jazz singers of your day. You were singing the blues when most of the singers today weren’t even thought of! I’m not surprised you’re back on top again. You deserve it.’

Kerry smiled at her daughter’s words. Lissy, as she still thought of her, was one hell of a daughter in some respects. Her absolute belief in her mother’s talent being one of them. Liselle, no matter what, had always had a great respect and regard for her mother’s voice, and now she managed her with an iron will. No one would knock Kerry Cavanagh while her daughter was there. No one.

In some respects she reminded Kerry of Briony. She had the same single-mindedness her aunt possessed when she wanted something badly enough. Briony had kept her promise a year ago, albeit a few days late. She had taken Kerry out, dressed her from head to toe, and had arranged for Kerry to appear on the Music Show, taking her there herself and giving her two large neat vodkas to calm her nerves. Kerry had sung ‘Miss Otis Regrets’, clearly and hauntingly, gathering all her old fans to her once more, and quite a few new ones. Young fans who looked through old seventy-eight records on the markets to hear her old songs. In the last twelve months her life had taken on some surprising new angles, but at least she was enjoying it again.