‘There’s another verse,’ Sharif mumbled, both disappointed and relieved that she didn’t want him to finish. He picked up the piece of paper to hand it to her. He didn’t know what reaction he’d expected from her, when she didn’t even know what the song meant. He had sort of hoped that despite everything, she’d somehow understand without him having to tell her. That the song would be enough to absolve him from responsibility, to ease the pain of what he knew he had to do.

‘Sharif, darling,’ Candida said, suddenly very calm and purposeful. ‘It’s a beautiful song, but it’s not about us. It’s about you. I’ve understood it all now, and I’m sorry that I didn’t before. You’re not breaking us up because there’s something wrong with us, you’re breaking us up becauseyou’re depressed. You’re talking about us having done some terrible thing, and we haven’t, we really haven’t. Irrational guilt is a classic sign of depression.’

Sharif sighed. ‘I’m not breaking us up because I’m depressed, I’m depressed because I’m breaking us up. Look, you promised to go.’

‘Don’t preach to me about promises,’ Candida said sharply, before reaching out for his hand appeasingly. ‘Sharif, don’t you understand? Depression is an illness. It’s a disease. We can go to the doctor’s and get counselling, get a prescription. We can cure it. I’ll help you; I promise I’ll be here for you, I won’t make us hide any more.’ Her eyes shone with hope.

Sharif shook off her hand. ‘You were right to make us hide. Get out Candida, please. Don’t make me force you.’

’I’m staying right here,’ she said stubbornly.

Sharif couldn’t take it any more. He’d sung his swan-song, and he had no emotional energy left. He couldn’t be calm, or nonchalant, or kind, or rational any more. He simply snapped. ‘Fuck off!’ he screamed at her. ‘Just fuck off! You shouldn’t be here. We should never have been together. I wish I’d never fucking met you.’

Candida backed off as though she’d been hit, and all her composed demeanour evaporated, as she couldn’t stop herself crying again. ‘You don’t mean it,’ she said through her tears. ‘You’re ill.’

‘Get out! I said get the fuck out!’ Sharif screamed and, grabbing her arms, he dragged her out of his room and out of the hallway, pushing her brutally out of the door. He slammed it behind her, and heard Candida slump to the floor on the other side. Petrified by his bewildering, unbidden violence, she got up and raced down the stairs and out into the street, to sob in the safety of her car.