Her job as a clerk in the factory had provided her with the income to dress as a lady. And her education at the college had equipped her with the tast... and manners to carry it well. But here, she was just a Negro woman. No one in Tramville would see beyond her skin colour to the sophisticated lady underneath.She strode towards the bar, careful to stand a distance from any of the men leaning against it and leering at her. The bar steward, an elderly man who was half Negro, half White, approached. The cellar had been built as a bomb shelter by her grandad during the second world war. He told Susan the walls were re-enforced with old railway lines and were two feet thick. Apparently, he only got it finished properly as the war was drawing to an end. What the hell he did with all the clay and rubbish he excavated I don't know. But it was fun talking to someone who knew the history, even if it was secondhand.We went bed at ten-thirty and Susan seemed quite relaxed. I heard the TV in the. More

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