The compère had been speaking to the crowd, keeping them entertained. As he sensed me walking on, he switched to his usual patter about my jungle upbringing, my warrior-queen status, but he sounded rattled. I wasn’t due to appear until the drums began, so he knew something was up. I reckoned I had about ten minutes before my plan succeeded or I was hauled away. I brushed past the compère, his voice falling away in confusion, and planted myself centre stage. In all the commotion of my early arrival there’d been no chance to put down the lights. I was glad of it. It was long past time for me to look my audience in the eye. Row upon row of confused white faces craned up at me. The one thing they had in common was that they didn’t know what was coming.

‘I am Zillah,’ I announced.

The compère shuffled offstage. That’s right, go. From now on I’ll be speaking for myself.

‘Get off,’ came a cry from my left. I turned, but I wasn’t quick enough to see who had shouted. I waited, daring whoever said it to repeat themselves. But all I saw were sullen stares.

‘Where’s Amazonia?’ another man called out, but I ignored him. Amazonia was gone. It was my show now.

With the lights up and the anticipation of what I was about to do, everything felt bright, sharp. There was no music. The drummer must’ve been as stunned as the audience. In the silence, I took off my hat and let it fall to the floor. I took the pins out of my hair and the two long plaits fell past my shoulders. Next off was the cape. This was the moment that the audience usually gasped to see Amazonia in her skins. Now they saw Zillah dressed much as they were. A dress made of plain cotton. The shade of it somewhere between green and brown with matching buttons. A glimpse of grey stockings, chosen because they were likely to wear well, and sturdy brown boots on my feet. No cavorting, no hollering or whooping. Just me, Zillah, for all the world to see.

‘Where’s the dancing?’ a woman called. A murmuring broke out as the audience whispered to one another and a half-eaten roll flew past my head.

‘There never was an Amazonia,’ I declared. ‘You’ve all been taken in by that man up there.’

I pointed to Crillick where he sat at the front of his box and there was a shuffling sound as the audience turned to look up at him. Give him his due, he didn’t back away. He stood up, as though he would face them down.