‘I’ll need more time to decide.’

‘Sing out when you know,’ said Valia, then she moved on to check on the next table.

Asquith thought, Do I make such a small impression on other people? Has my appearance changed that much?

He stood and conferred in the mirror above the booth, and as usual his eyes fixed on his hair, a combed-back mingling of black and waxy grey. All Asquiths, men and women, went grey in their twenties. He sat down, not the least bit hungry. Then Lucky appeared on the floor of the Achillion, leaving the kitchen with a plate of sausages. Asquith stared, his mind adjusting to the sight of the American. Lucky had cut himself shaving and wore a black sticking plaster on his neck. Had Valia been a part of the Benny Goodman fraud, too? Had they once thought of Asquith as some kind of mark? Affronted, Ian followed the imposter back to the kitchen.

‘Excuse this intrusion, but no doubt you remember me,’ Asquith said.

‘Sure I do,’ said Lucky, his back to the stove. ‘The Benny Goodman night.’

‘You had me absolutely fooled that evening. A few months later I discovered that Benny Goodman had never visited Australia during the war.’

‘I should apologise for all that nonsense. I wanted to be someone else for a while. It’s hard to explain.’

‘No, it’s easy to understand.’

‘My name’s Lucky. My real name is Vasilis Mallios, but call me Lucky. That night, the Benny Goodman thing, it was the night I met my wife. It was an important night. It changed everything.’

‘Then the fraud turned out incredibly well for you. Not many people get away with something like that. But are you still a musician?’

‘Haven’t played since that day.’

‘Just like that, you stopped being an artist?’

‘I wasn’t much of an artist.’

‘I thought you had some talent. Do you feel like a failure, though?’

‘Maybe I failed at music, but not some other things. Anyhow, failure is a reaction. It’s a response to an event. Failure, success: these aren’t always determined by other people. Least, I hope that’s how it works.’

‘This is interesting, Lucky, this idea that you had to become someone else in order to make your art. It’s something I understand.’

‘How are you doing yourself, sir?’

‘I’m going through a rough patch. No need to bore you with details. I must admit I’m envious of your situation.’

Penny yawned herself through the kitchen, a book held up to her face, on her way to the family booth in the cafe.

‘Have you eaten?’ Lucky asked Asquith.

‘I’m not terribly hungry.’

‘Why don’t you come back tomorrow night and I’ll do something special for you. A roast. Do you like kleftiko? Come tomorrow at about six.’