‘That’s enough of that,’ he said. I could see his disappointment. He’d formed an opinion of me based on my appearance and I hadn’t lived up to it. He reached into his pocket for his tobacco. When he unfolded the leather pouch, I got a waft of wood mingled with cherries.

‘I’m an actress more than anything, sir,’ I said. It wasn’t strictly true but I spent enough time wishing I was someone else, and I loved Mr Shakespeare, knew all the lines. I had Mrs B to thank for that.

‘Are you now? Give me something, then.’

‘“If by your art, my dearest father, you have put the wild waters in this roar, allay them. The sky, it seems, would pour down stinking pitch, but that the sea—”’

He held up a hand to stop me. ‘You know Shakespeare, do you?’ He seemed bemused.

‘Told you I was an actress, didn’t I?’

He laughed. Good, I had judged him right. Always better to be saucy with a man like this and above all to keep your guard up.

‘I can’t see you as Miranda.’

No surprise in that. It was a daily struggle to be myself when people didn’t know what to make of me. Neither wholly Black nor white, coming from St Giles but not one of the Blackbirds, no schooling to speak of but able to spout Shakespeare. I’ve never been one thing nor the other, that’s why they couldn’t pin me down. So he couldn’t see me as Miranda. I knew I wasn’t Caliban either but I guessed that would be easier for someone like him to accept. Besides, it would give me a chance to show some spirit.

‘“This island’s mine, by Sycorax my mother, which thou takest from me. When thou camest first, thou strokedst me and madest much of me, wouldst give me water with berries in’t, and teach me …”’

I was halfway through, when Crillick clapped his hands for me to stop. He hadn’t liked it as much as I thought. What time was it? Three o’clock. Still time to try somewhere else if I left quickly.

But Crillick held out his hand. ‘Get up on the stage, girl. I want to see if you can project.’