As much as I wanted to argue with him, he was probably right. For some reason exotics had become all the rage among the quality. It made no sense to me. There were hundreds, thousands of Blacks in London, especially down by the docks. But that wasn’t what the people wanted. Your common or garden Black was no good and, to many, half-castes like me were even worse. I’d had enough dirty looks and been denied enough jobs to know that. It was the savages they yearned for.

‘What if they find out it’s a lie?’

I’d spoken more to myself than to him, but Crillick heard and answered sharply, ‘That will not happen, Zillah.’ He stared at me hard. ‘It must never happen, you understand.’

I nodded, a bit uncertain, but he schooled his face into a smile as if he’d realised he was scaring me.

‘There’d be consequences, my girl. For you, for me. But you shouldn’t let it trouble you. Remember that there are no lies in theatre, only performances. You must make the audience believe.’

I came to remember that conversation many times but I don’t want to get too ahead of myself. Back then Crillick got up and walked around me. I heard the click of his knees as he crouched on his haunches at my shoulder. I should’ve just jumped down from the stage, but it didn’t occur to me then, even though I didn’t want him where I couldn’t see him. Instead, I reminded myself how badly I needed this job, forced myself not to turn around when he stood behind me, even when he reached out and stroked my hair. It was plaited and pinned. I felt his fingers penetrate the curls. He tugged until he broke their resistance, there was the pattering of hair grips falling to the floor and I felt his fingertips against my scalp as he drew his hand down from the crown to the base of my neck. I had to turn. Too close. His lips were moist and slightly parted. The cherry smoke from his pipe lingered on his breath. If I tried to move, he’d grab me. In any case, the door was too far. I wouldn’t make it.

‘Could she be called the Great Amazonia?’ I’d said.

I needed to say something, anything to distract him. That was the first thing that popped into my mind. I didn’t know where I’d heard it. I liked it for the zed like in my own name, but different. I didn’t want this savage to be known as Zillah.

‘What’s Africa got to do with the Amazon?’ Crillick had said, but when I insisted, he’d let me keep it. ‘It’s close enough, I suppose. Besides, the punters won’t know any better than you, will they?’