But she wasn’t finished. She muttered something as she turned away, something so vile I had to question whether I had heard her right.

‘What did you say?’

‘I called you what you are, an uppity nigger.’

I reeled as though she’d slapped me, and she followed up with an undercut.

‘That’s right, Zillah. That’s what they all call you. Aldous, Mikey, Bob, the ballerinas and the chorus girls. I’ve always stood up for you, you know. More fool me.’

I leant a hand against the wall to steady myself. It wasn’t the first time I’d been called that, of course. Wouldn’t be the last. But I hadn’t expected it from her. Had she ever really liked me? Either way, she’d shown her true colours now. I wasn’t surprised to find the others spoke of me like that. My rapid rise at Crillick’s, from novice to headliner in less than a year, had all but guaranteed their enmity; but, coming from her, it hurt. More so because she knew what it was like to be different. How it felt to be treated as inferior just because of where you came from. We’d become rivals, but I thought that, when it came down to it, as outsiders we’d always have each other’s backs. How wrong I’d been.

She looked down on me from the top of the stairs and began to approach. There was not one bit of remorse in her face. I held my ground, prepared to defend myself if needs be, but she only shouldered past me. Once she’d been my friend but, as of today, I knew I had an enemy for life. Crillick looked after her, the smirk still on his lips. He’d enjoyed the confrontation. It might be the only time that he’d had two women fight over him.

‘I’d have expected more from you in a catfight, Zillah,’ he said and I heard him chuckling to himself as he retreated back into his office.

Barky found me in my dressing room. Ellen must have been in before I made it back and all her things were gone, even Bouncer’s blankets. The cases of gin, the painted flats and the odds and ends of props remained, but without her it felt empty. How could my one female friend have said those things to me? I’d lost two of the people closest to me in as many days. I felt wounded and very much alone.

‘What’s all this, then?’ Barky said.

Thank God I still had him to count on. He looked anxious. I realised he probably thought I’d been at the opium again, but I was just numb from what had happened. I knew there’d be nothing strong enough to take that pain away. To have forever lost Ellen and Vincent within the space of twenty-four hours.