Up on the stage, the guitarist laid his Stratocaster down and headed straight over to us, one hand pinning his pork-pie hat to his head, his oversized fawn suit billowing behind him.

He grabbed Aunty Kaye’s hand and kissed it. ‘And if it isn’t Britain’s fastest living consultant,’ he said. ‘Let me buy you a drink, my dear.’

‘This is my nephew I told you about, Louis,’ she said, ignoring his offer. ‘He’s a bluesman too, and a bloody brilliant one at that.’

‘Great to meet you, brother.’ He gave me one of those handshakes that graduates into a hug. ‘Now tell me,’ he said in a stage whisper, ‘how is it that your aunty is still single?’

‘This again,’ Aunty Kaye said, rolling her eyes.

Louis assumed a greatly pained expression. ‘It’s such a waste.’

‘Nothing is going to waste, darling,’ she said. ‘Don’t you worry about that. I work with scores of eager young doctors underneath me. And that is exactly where I like them.’

Adrienne clinked Aunty Kaye’s glass.

‘We talking just the guys?’ Louis asked.

‘I’m all about equal opportunities,’ Aunty Kaye replied.

Louis gave a theatrical show of a man overcome, holding the back of his palm to his forehead.

‘So, who are your influences, kid?’ he asked me.

‘Otis Spann, Nina Simone, Ray Charles,’ I told him. I left my more modern inspirations off the list. Louis seemed the kind of guy who’d have little interest in anything post 1970.

‘Wow! You really are a bluesman,’ he said with some wild gesticulation. ‘So where’s your hat?’

‘My hat?’

‘Every bluesman needs a hat. You look at our band – all the boys wear hats. Even Suzie would if she could fit one over that hairdo. But you know what, kid? You gotta earn a hat. Any mug can stand up and play with the wind in his hair cos nobody’s expecting nothing. But you see a guy pick up his instrument, and he’s wearing a hat, then you know he’s gonna be good. Cos, if you play like shit in a hat, you’ll be laughed right out of the joint.’

He flashed a maniac’s yellow-toothed grin at me. I smiled back – I understood what he was getting at. ‘So how do I earn my hat?’

‘Wanna jam in on a couple of numbers? You blow me away and you can have mine.’

‘Bring it on,’ I said and shook his hand.

Aunty Kaye was earwigging and looking pleased with herself for making a fruitful introduction. ‘OK, Louis. I’ll let you buy us both that drink now.’

The guy couldn’t reach for his wallet fast enough. ‘So what you two good-looking people up to in B-town this week?’ he asked us.

‘Well,’ Aunty Kaye said, putting on a cut-glass accent, ‘most excitingly, we shall be attending the opera.’ She drew out the first syllable of the word.