‘And we will.’ He clutches my hand. ‘Together.’

‘I’m Rebecca, by the way,’ I add. ‘Rebecca Brandon.’

‘And I’m Dix.’ He flashes me a white smile. ‘Dix Donahue.’

Hang on. Dix Donahue. That sounds familiar. I glance at a nearby poster and sure enough, it’s printed in big grey letters: HOST: DIX DONAHUE.

This is the host? He looks about a hundred.

‘Dix!’ A plump man with a neat black moustache bears down on us and pumps his hand. ‘Victor Jamison from E.Q.U.A.L. I’m a big fan. All set for your introductory speech?’

‘Gathering inspiration all the time.’ Dix flashes his smile at me, and I beam back. He must be famous in some sort of way. I wonder how. Luke will know.

The two men head off, and I drain my glass. I really must find Luke and Suze, but the trouble is, everyone’s started clustering around the stage area and it’s hard to see. The dancers have stopped their routine and the band has fallen silent and there’s an expectant air. Then suddenly, the band strikes up again with some tune that everyone seems to recognize, going by their nods and smiles at each other. Dix Donahue mounts the steps with a hop and a jump – and it’s obvious he’s an entertainer. He seems to sparkle under the lights, even if he is a zillion years old.

As he starts to tell jokes, I edge my way round the corner of the throng, and suddenly see Luke. I’m about to join him, when the room goes dark and a spotlight moves around the crowd, and Dix Donahue takes on a grave manner.

‘But seriously, folks,’ he says. ‘We’re here for a very fine cause tonight. Discrimination is an evil and it takes place in all shapes and forms, often in the place you’d expect the least. Later we’ll be hearing from Pia Stafford, who battled workplace discrimination regarding her disability after a car accident.’

The spotlight falls on a lady in black, who lifts a hand and nods soberly.

‘But you know, I was talking to a young lady just now, who had maybe the most unusual tale of discrimination I’ve heard …’ Dix Donahue shades his eyes and squints into the audience. ‘Rebecca, where are you? Ah, there!’

Does he mean me? I stare up at him in horror. A moment later the spotlight is glaring into my face.

‘Rebecca was discriminated against because of – of all things’ – he shakes his head sombrely – ‘her pet.’

My eyes nearly pop out of my head. He can’t have taken me seriously. I only said ‘pets’ because I ran out of other things to say.

They should never have hired a hundred-year-old host. He’s batty.

‘Rebecca, let’s hear your story,’ says Dix Donahue in a soft, coaxing voice. ‘What was your pet?’

I stare at him, transfixed.

‘A … a hamster,’ I hear myself saying.

‘A hamster, ladies and gentlemen.’ Dix Donahue starts clapping, and a half-hearted round of applause breaks out. I can see people whispering to each other, looking puzzled, as well they might.