‘… but you can’t get everything you want at once. Might as well work out which way the wind is going to end up blowing. I know I’m only in the very first stages. And I know it must be a lot worse for … for you…’

‘For black people, you mean?’

He hesitated again, big time. ‘I’m not one of the people who feel you’re automatically too modern. There have been … people of African descent in London for centuries.’

So this was definitely about being seen as too modern. Something not from whatever ‘golden age’ people like that fortune-teller harked back to.

So, hey, entering that shop and heading into the serious stuff at the back must be something you didn’t often see people of colour doing. To this bloke, encountering Sefton had been like getting onto the bus and having Rosa Parks sit down next to him. ‘Right,’ he said. ‘It’s time for a change.’

‘Are you going to the Goat?’ He had lowered his voice, so it seemed that mentioning it in public was dangerous. But he’d also said it as if it was obvious that Sefton would know what he was on about.

Sefton narrowed his eyes and made as if to get up, again doing the opposite of what the man wanted rather than reveal his own lack of knowledge. Again, it worked. The man leaped to his feet, obviously feeling that he’d offended Sefton in some way. ‘Listen, I know about what they say is going to happen there this month. I’m a regular, just on the first level, not every Thursday, but at least on the first Thursday. People are saying that now that the Keel brothers have bought the place, it might get easier for me to, you know, get downstairs. That they’re going to change the rules. You must know something about that.’

The man was obviously assuming that Sefton’s skin colour automatically made him a radical in this subculture, and radicals knew about radical developments. The Goat? It might be a pub. On the first Thursday of the month. That explained why Thursdays brought this sort of person into town. He’d just found one of the meeting places of the London occult community. Job done. He didn’t let that satisfaction show. He slowly sat back down, nodding as if appreciating this bloke’s knowledge of the situation. ‘I might.’

‘Well, if you’re there next Thursday … tread carefully, eh? They might announce new rules, but real change takes time. This might not be the moment. But, hey, if you do get anywhere, I’ll be there to cheer you on. I’d benefit too. I’ve worked hard to get this far. Be nice to get down to the lower floors.’