Another swig of rum and he continued. ‘Of course there were some locals not keen on the establishment of a club for Negroes, some who still wanted to keep our black troops out of town. But that’s human nature, I guess, isn’t it? Like I said earlier, Robert, the Australians and us, we’re not all that different really. We don’t do the right thing by black folk.’

Lyndon grinned. A genuine grin this time, humorous, the grin that illuminated his face and could be quite winning when he was sharing a joke as he often did over a few drinks, the joke more often than not a bawdy one.

‘Hell, the Aussies really give themselves away, don’t they? I mean, “the White Australia policy”! What sort of dumb shit-for-brains title is that? If they’d just stuck to the Immigration Restriction Act they wouldn’t have shown themselves up as the racist fuckers they are.’

A short bark of laughter and he was serious again. ‘That policy still stands today and it still means what it says: those Aussies don’t want a shade of anything that’s not white in their country. But we’re one up on them, Robert, as is only right, we being the leaders of the civilised world. We have that.’

He stabbed a finger at the file that sat in the middle of the desk. ‘We have the Civil Rights Act of 1964, and as of tomorrow, it will become law throughout the land. That’s something to be proud of, wouldn’t you agree?’

‘I would, Lyndon. Yes, indeed I would.’

Bobby was forced to admit to himself, in that moment anyway and perhaps with reluctance, that he actually respected Johnson. Lyndon remained everything he’d always been in Bobby’s opinion – loud, brash, vulgar, and so much more. But he was basically a good man. His values were right. He’d worked hard to push the bill through after Jack’s assassination, and he was, as Jack himself had always maintained, one hell of a clever politician.

‘We’d never have achieved the presidency without him, Bobby,’ Jack had said, ‘we’d have been nowhere without Texas.’

Having very much enjoyed recounting his adventures to Bobby Kennedy, Lyndon could now sense the younger man’s renewed respect, which, although he would always maintain meant nothing, somehow pleased him. He’d formed a good working relationship with John during the time he’d served as Kennedy’s Vice-President, but he’d always known both brothers looked down on him a little. As those of the Kennedy clan tended to do. Nice to feel a mellowing change, he now thought. Or is it just the Bundy?

‘You’re getting behind there, Bobby,’ he said, topping up his rum. Bobby’s had remained untouched. ‘I’d like to propose a final toast,’ he raised his glass, ‘to Jack, and America, and equal rights for all.’