‘Did I turn back? I tell you, fer true, Mrs Seacole here had a job of work to do and a job of work she would do. The very next day I crossed the Black Sea to Balaclava, where I was met with the sight of hundreds of wooden boats shuttling back and forth carrying the dead and the wounded. It was an awful sight to behold. Some of the soldiers recognized me from their postings in Jamaica and we exchanged greetings. It was not long before I had overseen the building of the British Hotel at Spring Hill with my business partner, a Mr Day. It was a clean haven for invalids. I dispensed medicines and toured the campsites at the Front, where the soldiers were treated as the loved sons of Mother Seacole.

‘Do you know what was written of me in the distinguished Punch magazine? Oh, I will tell you.

‘That berry-brown face, with a kind heart’s trace Impressed on each wrinkle sly

Was a sight to behold, through the snow-clouds rolled Across that iron sky’

‘You must have been a genuine trailblazer, Mrs Seacole. A tour de force, a veritable rocket of tenacity, a Messianic –’

‘Yes, yes,’ she interrupted with impatience. ‘Do I detect a tendency on your part to hyperbole, or perhaps you are mocking me because you are a very impertinent person? For myself it was straightforward – I was following the Good Lord’s calling. I was simply doing my duty.’

‘My girlfriend Jessie, the one who brought me here, as she keeps reminding me. Well, she imagines herself an adventurer.’

‘Did your friend carry you on her back?’

He laughed. ‘She’d say so, metaphorically speaking.’

‘Nonsense! You brought yourself here and you gave her the companionship and support she needed to undertake this journey.’

This was the opening he needed. He jumped in and began to sound off, counting with his fingers. ‘She’s like a benevolent dictator, got to be the centre of attention, doesn’t listen to me, got to do things her way –’

‘Would you be on this trip if she had listened to you? If I had listened to people, I would never have left my tiny island.’

‘You don’t understand. No opinion counts but her own. I can’t even go to the loo without getting a grilling. It’s a nightmare!’

‘If it’s a nightmare, may I ask why you remain with her? Surely you are with her because it is your choice. Therefore you must stop complaining.’

‘I don’t know why I’m with her any more!’

There, he’d blurted it out. He knew it was a betrayal.

‘But I can’t just leave because I’m sort of committed. Not married, we don’t bother with that much these days.’