Filled with dread, she walked to the front door and opened it. Mr. Lewis, wearing a broad smile, was standing there. ‘Hi, there, Ann,’ he said. �...I’m here. Have you been waiting for me?’ ‘Ah…yes…’ Ann stammered. ‘I know you probably couldn’t wait for me to get here,’ he said. He brushed by her and walked into the living room. ‘Mr. Lewis, I…we…this is wrong,’ Ann said. ‘I can’t…not again.’ ‘Come on now, Ann, don’t start that again,’ he said, ‘Of course you can. And you will.’ His expression. There was even a 70s style disco ball. The poster outside advertised House and Techno and something called Neo Soul hosted by someone with the promising name of DJ Stumble, but I was already far from expecting to enjoy an evening of full-on high intensity Robert Hood and Plastikman. We spent hardly any more time in The Cross than we had waiting to get inside. When the music was unfamiliar to our ears it sounded like high energy Soul or R&B, and the tunes we did know were the kind of commercial. More

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