Candida didn’t come to the concert, but called the venue to apologize. Undeterred, Sharif pursued her, hanging around the hospital at visiting hours until he saw her and bumped into her accidentally on purpose. This time, they went for a coffee, and started to go on dates. Sharif was so careful with Candida that he didn’t even try to kiss her, until the miraculous day when she leaned in towards him while they were waiting for her train home. He even introduced her to his mother, who must have known that this one was special, as she took an unprecedented interest in Candida above all his other girlfriends, asking her to supper, and asking after her mum, and asking what she did at her art college.

‘Your mummy’s lovely,’ Candida said one evening on the way to one of Sharif’s gigs. ‘I feel like I’ve known her forever.’

’Well, she shouldn’t monopolize you so much,’ Sharif answered, kissing the top of her head. ‘I hardly got to say a word to you during dinner. Sorry about the burnt chicken, by the way.’

‘I’m not much of a cook, so I’d never criticize someone else’s food,’ Candida shrugged. ‘Speaking of food, why did you tell your mum that you were working at the restaurant tonight? Doesn’t she approve of you playing?’

Sharif shrugged. ‘I find it better not to tell Mum when I’ve got a gig, or she might tell Dad, and as he’s my boss he wouldn’t be too pleased about me playing hooky from the restaurant. I’m meant to have given up music and be doing real work now.’

‘But why play hooky?’ persisted Candida. ‘Why not just tell them you’re taking a night off?’

‘Babe, it’s much easier not to tell them, and for them to think that I’m working. Otherwise Dad might stop paying me for the nights I’m not there,’ Sharif answered guilelessly.

‘You’re appalling,’ chided Candida, not without a grin. ‘I think you’re one of those bad boys that my daddy keeps warning me against.’

‘Do you like bad boys?’ Sharif asked, squeezing her waist.

‘I do now,’ Candida answered coquettishly, and stopped to kiss him full on the lips.

After the gig, Sharif was walking Candida back through Clapham Common when she surprised him by stopping by his usual make-out bench. Pulling him down, she began to kiss him urgently, and against his nobler instincts they were soon passionately making out. ‘I’m feeling very bad myself, Sharif,’ Candida said breathily. ‘I think you’re a bad influence.’