Geoff put his hand on Vinny’s knee and squeezed it. He was clearly besotted, waxing lyrical about Vinny’s fabulous green eyes and adorable cockney accent. ‘I have an idea, Terry.’ Apart from Marnie and Macca, Vinny had never disclosed his real name to anyone at the club, not even the other lads who worked there.

‘Go on.’

‘How about I buy us another bottle of bubbly and we take it to one of the private rooms with us?’

Even though Macca had showed him what to do, Vinny had yet to go inside one of the private rooms, and he had no intention of doing so. Just the thought of being mauled by some old perve made him feel physically sick. ‘I’m sorry, Geoff. It’s not that I don’t like you. I do. You’re wonderful company and a true gent. But I haven’t been working here that long and I’m a bit shy when it comes to all that.’ Macca had told him what to say in situations such as this: ‘Keep ’em hanging. Be nice and always let ’em think they’re in with a chance in the future. That way, they’ll keep coming back,’ were Macca’s exact words.

Geoff stroked Vinny’s left cheek. ‘I promise you, we don’t have to do anything you’re uncomfortable with. I know you’re only eighteen and I myself was still a virgin at that age. Even if we only have a kiss and cuddle, I’d be over the moon. Please, Terry? Name your price. Fifty pounds? A hundred?’

Vinny patted Geoff’s knee. ‘Not tonight, Geoff. I’m sorry. But never say never, eh?’

‘Oh my gawd! To your right, Viv. Look discreetly,’ hissed Queenie.

‘Gawd stone the crows! She’s got legs like a bleedin’ rugby player and her face needs a shave.’

Both Queenie and Viv were transfixed. Neither had been aware transvestites even existed, let alone seen one in the flesh. The individual in question was dressed in a mini skirt, high stilettos and was wearing a blonde wig whilst clutching a red handbag. ‘Is she drunk?’ Viv questioned.

‘He!’ Queenie spat. ‘Ain’t a bleedin’ woman, is it, ya silly cow. Not sure if he’s drunk or just can’t walk in those heels. I’d struggle walking in them. Must be six inches.’

‘Ask her. I mean him! Everyone seems to know him round ’ere. Lots are saying hello.’

‘Ask him what?’

‘Where Vinny’s hotel is of course.’

‘Mum, I need a wee-wee,’ Brenda announced.

‘In a minute, love. Excuse me,’ Queenie shouted out. The transvestite didn’t turn around, so Queenie ran towards him and tapped him on the shoulder. ‘Sorry to bother you, but do you by any chance know where the hotel Valentino is?’

‘Never heard of it, darling. Sorry.’

‘Mum, is that a man?’ Brenda asked in her loudest voice.

‘Shut up!’ Queenie hissed. ‘Do you know the area well? Only my son has told me he works in a posh hotel in Soho and nobody seems to have heard of it.’