Americans were standing everywhere, smoking, drinking beer or water, eating sandwiches; some had instrument cases at their feet. Lucky felt an odd, simple relief hearing their accents. He and Valia followed a waiter into the room until they reached the centre, both of them recognising that childish thrill of going unnoticed, and while they stood together, before anyone realised they were not supposed to be there, a man in a large blazer came towards them, his shiny lapels like a brassy badge of rank. He wore a stiff shirt and loafers with a waxy, beetle-shell shine. Benny Goodman broke seamlessly into the huddle of Lucky and Valia. They introduced themselves.

Goodman said without smiling: ‘I noticed some unfamiliar faces in the room and thought, “What is their story? How do they fit in?” And, of course, “Are they married?”’

‘We don’t fit in here,’ said Valia.

‘We are married,’ said Lucky.

‘You’re a damn lucky man, Mr Lucky. And you sound American,’ Goodman noted. ‘How did you meet?’

‘During the war,’ said Valia. ‘We met a few blocks from here.’

‘There’s gotta be more to that story,’ said Goodman.

Valia said: ‘That question is posed of couples all the time—how did you meet? But it’s more interesting why a couple stays together.’

‘Oh, gosh no. Everyone gets the meet-cute question and no exceptions, I’m afraid,’ said Goodman. ‘Let’s hear it. I’ve travelled a hell of a long way to be here and I’m never coming back to Sydney, I assure you, so humour me.’

Valia looked at her husband and her expression said: All right, you tell the story.

Lucky said: ‘I was a mess steward, and I was miserable, and a messmate convinced me to play a concert in Sydney. I can play the clarinet.’

‘You don’t say! I’m down a clarinet man right now. This morning I told him he was in the wrong line of work. He was slow, out of step, asleep on his feet. Men like that waste my time, everyone’s time.’

‘People said I looked like you,’ Lucky went on, ‘and, the fact is, I pretended to be you, to be Benny Goodman on a USO tour.’

‘What the hell! And you got away with this? I don’t see any kind of resemblance. No offence to you.’

‘The night of the concert, yes, I got away with it.’

‘Everyone believed he was you,’ said Valia. ‘And that’s how we met.’

‘I oughta call the police this second,’ said Goodman, leaning back slightly. He touched his own collar, his hair. ‘Were you any good?’

‘I was real good,’ said Lucky.

‘Are you two making fun of me?’ Benny Goodman said. ‘That’s gotta be the craziest thing I ever heard in all the places I been.’

‘It did happen,’ said Valia. ‘He was great.’

Goodman sniffed smugly and checked his watch. Valia could not look at Lucky in case she laughed.