Kasey was aware of scowls being cast in their direction from a group of white American soldiers standing nearby. Those same white soldiers had thoroughly enjoyed his rendition of ‘Amazing Grace’, but performance over, he was now supposed to know his place. No talking to the white girl. What the hell, he told himself rebelliously. This is Townsville, not South Carolina, not Georgia, those rules don’t apply here.

‘Come on,’ he urged, ‘let’s go to the bar.’

Betty hesitated. It seemed rude to walk away while Rupe was playing.

‘Don’t worry about him,’ Kasey said, ‘he won’t even notice we’ve gone. He never cares if anyone’s listening, he just wants to play piano.’

They went to the bar where they seated themselves and Val served them a couple of beers, refusing to take payment.

‘For a song like that, lovey, it’s on the house,’ she said, moving off to serve someone else.

‘What’s your name?’ Betty asked.

‘Kasey. Kasey Davis,’ he answered. ‘What’s yours?’

‘Betty Francis.’ She took a sip of her beer. ‘I’ve never heard anyone sing like that,’ she said, thinking how very young he looked.

‘I like to sing.’ Kasey downed half his beer in one go.

‘How old are you?’ she asked.

‘Nineteen.’

Betty gave a Veronica Lake flick of her head that effectively set an unruly lock of fair hair back in its place. ‘That’s awfully young to be so talented,’ she said, ‘where did you train?’

‘I didn’t. How old are you?’

‘Twenty.’

Kasey grinned, a devastating flash of white teeth, green eyes dancing. He had this girl’s number. She liked to play it tough, but she was really a country girl at heart. ‘Twenty, going on thirty-five, eh?’ he said. ‘I like older women.’

Betty threw back her head and laughed. A big, unaffected laugh, aware that her intention to patronise hadn’t worked. This beautiful young man was no innocent, he was as worldly as she was.

‘So where do you come from, Kasey?’ she asked.

‘Elko, South Carolina,’ he said, ‘that’s where I was born anyway. When I was ten we moved to Augusta, Georgia.’

‘And you never had any training?’

‘What, singing, you mean?’

She nodded.

‘Nope. Started out when I was ten in talent shows. First time was the Augusta Variety Talent Spectacular of 1934.’ He downed the remainder of his beer. ‘I sang a blues ballad and ended up winning the show. Judge said I was a child prodigy. I had to look up what that meant,’ he added with a grin. ‘I been singing ever since. Do you want another beer?’

‘No thanks. I’ll have to get back to work in a sec.’

‘But Rupe’s happy. He’ll play for as long as you want him to.’