He and Josh hadn’t dared cause a scene in the hall, which might have landed them in trouble, but out here in the street was quite a different matter.

‘We’re allowed to do that as well,’ Percival Summers answered, ‘ain’t no law here says we can’t. And we get invited to the Red Cross dances, too, you know.’

Perce stood his ground boldly, his voice disdainful. Twenty-two-year-old Perce was from the north; he wasn’t about to be bullied by these southern boys who looked even younger than he was. ‘You ain’t in Alabama now, kid,’ he said.

Beau appeared as if he might turn apoplectic with rage. ‘You don’t speak to me in that tone, nigger. I’m sir to you, you hear me, boy?’

‘Why?’ Perce asked in all innocence. ‘You ain’t no officer. You’re a plain GI just the same as me.’

At that Beau lost it altogether. ‘You listen to me, you fucking piece of nigger shit …’

Josh reined him in at this point. ‘Hey, come on now, Beau, that’ll do, ladies present and all.’

A group of several Aussie soldiers, also rank and file, had just emerged from the dance hall and couldn’t resist a comment in passing. They hadn’t actually heard the exchange, but they recognised there was some sort of altercation between the white and black Americans.

‘That’s what you get for going out with Yanks,’ one of them sneered to the girls, although the remark was intended for the Americans, ‘bloody racists, the whole lot of them.’

‘Yep, serves you girls right,’ another agreed, ‘you should give the paw paws a miss and stick to the Aussies.’ Paw paws was a particularly insulting – and utterly groundless – term the Australians had adopted when referring to the Yanks – green on the outside and yellow on the inside.

The others laughed and the group walked off down Denham Street.

Perce’s mate, Selwood, who found this sort of confrontation very scary, now piped up. ‘Come on, Perce,’ he urged, ‘let’s go.’ Selwood was from the south, and he expected any minute they’d be attacked.

But Percival Summers continued to stand his ground, saying nothing, not seeking conflict; just making a statement by being there.

‘Sorry, ladies,’ Josh said, ignoring the Negroes and concentrating upon the girls, keen to make amends for his friend’s appallingly bad language. ‘Beau normally don’t swear like that, and he meant no offence, I promise. It was just seeing those blacks dancing with some of you white gals back there, you know? That’s not right, that’s not natural. We couldn’t help being affronted, Beau and me, it’s downright wrong!’

Betty was about to offer some scathing remark, but surprisingly enough it was Jill who piped up.