She sat down quickly, getting there just ahead of a group of two girls and a sullen youth who had been standing at the foot of the stairs. They glared at her resentfully and moved away. She looked around and realised she was causing a bit of a stir. As far as she could see, she was the only Caucasian in the place, and for all she knew the only one who’d ever been in it. It didn’t look like the kind of stop-off that would be on the tourist itinerary. Faces at the tables around her were turned in her direction, gazing with glazed and unselfconscious interest, until she smiled and they became suddenly embarrassed and returned shy smiles like coy children.

On stage a stunning-looking girl in a sexy silk dress with daring splits up either side sang a mournful melody to the accompaniment of a guitarist, and a keyboard player triggering pre-programmed, synthesised computer music. The backing sounded professional. The singer was awful. Margaret watched her with a mixture of horror and embarrassment. She had no talent for it whatsoever. But no one else seemed to notice, or if they did, they didn’t care. Li arrived with her vodka and a large brandy and sat down opposite her. She flicked her head towards the stage. “Pretty face. Shame about the voice.”

Li smiled. “She’s my best friend’s girl.”

Margaret almost choked on her vodka. “You’re kidding me.”

He shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. I don’t like her much either.”

She looked at him curiously. “And she’s really your best friend’s girl?” He nodded. “So is it her you don’t like, or her singing?”

“Both.”

“Why don’t you like her?”

“Because she’s a prostitute, and he’s mad about her, and he’s going to end up getting hurt.”

Margaret looked at the girl in astonishment, and with fresh eyes. “But she’s . . . beautiful. Why would she throw herself away on prostitution?”