He felt more deeply than I had given him credit for. I had indeed fallen into the trap of thinking he had few problems because he’d done well for himself, but of course he was lonely and I knew well enough what that was like. The very first time I’d walked down Charles II Street, I’d felt out of place and wondered how he managed it, day in and day out. He’d called me confident and sure of myself. I’d thought the same of him, but it turned out there was a bit of front to both of us.

I leant in to him and when he closed his eyes I did the same, concentrating on the places our bodies touched. My hands on his shoulders, his fingertips feather-light on my face. He raised my chin to bring my lips to his and we kissed. Lightly at first, then deeper, until he caught himself and stepped back before things could go too far. I had felt how his heart raced, knew that stopping cost him some effort.

‘Will you marry me, Zillah?’ he said.

‘Yes, Lucien, my answer is yes.’

I spent the next three days holed up at Barky’s. I knew Crillick would never think to look for me there and it meant I could keep abreast of what was happening since the stunt I’d pulled for my final performance. The main thing on my mind, though, was Nosizwe’s safety. I thought constantly about where she might be, whether Elvira had got her on to a boat, how her son was doing. The moment she had tried to hand him to me played again and again in my mind. The fierce look in my sister’s eyes was a mother’s love. I’d never seen it before – or rather I had, that day when Mama took me to St Giles, but I hadn’t recognised it. I’d been too young to understand why she’d asked Mrs Bradley to take care of me. Finally, I got it. Her only desire was to keep me safe and, as a mother, she’d been prepared to do whatever it took to achieve that, even if it meant never seeing me again.