‘You’re right, of course there’s no rush. The talk will last about an hour. We can take refreshments together when it’s finished.’

I smiled at him. He couldn’t know what I was thinking but he’d sensed my fear and protected me. I wasn’t made of china and wouldn’t last too long if I acted that way, but every so often it was nice to be treated like it. Vincent would be like that, Vincent would take care of you, came the voice in my head. I hoped rather than knew it to be true, but regardless I couldn’t imagine a place where we could be seen together like this.

It was time for the lecture to start. A hush descended as three men walked out on to the platform and took up their seats. One was white, two Black; all gentlemen from their clothes and air. The white man, angular and sallow, came to the front rail and looked out over the audience.

‘That’s Martin Johnson, he spearheads the cause,’ Lucien said.

‘Who’s next to him?’

‘Ade Bankole, and after him Oscar Gbeho. You should know them, Zillah.’

Johnson thanked the audience for coming and introduced the speakers for the evening as writers and abolitionists. Nothing like the guff that the compère used to announce me. How strange to see Black people onstage introduced as themselves.

‘I want to thank those of you who have already contributed to the relief efforts for the Black Poor that have been so successful,’ Johnson said. ‘And to introduce the Sierra Leone Resettlement Scheme.’

There was a round of applause. This was a much easier crowd than I was used to if a mere introduction could earn you a clap.

‘Some of you will know of the scheme already,’ Johnson continued. ‘That the government is paying fourteen pounds to all members of the Black Poor who volunteer to go to Sierra Leone and start a new colony. The first boats have left London already and are making their final preparations at Liverpool, but there is one more due to depart in two weeks on the sixteenth of October.’

I couldn’t help but show my surprise and Lucien chuckled to see it. He’d said that payments were being made but fourteen pounds was a large sum, more than three months’ wages. The size of the crowd made so much more sense now. I hadn’t recognised anyone from St Giles and wondered if the Blackbirds had taken steps to keep news of the scheme out of the Rookery. They’d struggle to find and retain members for their gang if they were competing with these sorts of figures – and all legal too. I wondered what other gems might be hidden in Lucien’s pamphlet. I’d been dismissive of this Sierra Leone scheme, but it had my full attention now.