They’ll never forgive us, Goldie,’ laughed Parvez, pleased despite himself. ‘Ouf!’ he said, as, disturbed from his brief slumber, Sharif grabbed his finger with a healthy grip. ‘This one’s strong, let’s call him Samson instead.’

‘I think that’s Jewish,’ Shona said vaguely. ‘Let’s stick with Omar Sharif.’

‘Those can be their middle names,’ suggested Parvez. ‘Why don’t we call one after your Baba, and the other after my Abbu?’

‘I think Papa would like that,’ Shona agreed. ‘Rashid Omar Khan and Khalid Sharif Khan,’ she tried musingly. ‘Those seem such big names for such little boys.’

’They’ll grow into them,’ Parvez said.

But they never did grow into them. They were called by their middle names throughout infancy by unthinking habit, one of Parvez and Shona’s silly, long-running jokes, like their own pseudonyms of Puppy and Goldie. Once they got older, whenever their father or mother called them by their formal first names, on rare occasions when propriety or sternness demanded, the boys replied reproachfully, with the woeful puppy-dog look copied from their father, ‘What are you first-naming me for?’ As though they were being unfairly told off for something they hadn’t done.

The Married Life of Ricky Karim and

Verity Trueman

RICKY AND VERITY had their first argument shortly after their wedding and, predictably enough, it was about names. Ricky came back late one evening from the airport and, on drowsily entering the tiny Clapham flat, was surprised to see that Verity was not only still awake, but sitting at the table, surrounded by forms and paperwork.

‘Hello, darling,’ she said brightly, on seeing him hesitating at the door. ‘Would you like some coffee? I’ve just put on a new pot. It’s decaffeinated.’

‘Verity, darling,’ said Ricky, crossing the room to kiss her. ‘You must make sure you get enough rest, it’s not good for the baby. What on earth are you doing up at this ungodly hour? It must be close to midnight.’ He checked his watch, ‘In fact it’s one in the morning; that cab must have taken me round the houses.’

‘I couldn’t sleep. I was lying awake waiting for you to come back, when I realized that I’ve been married for over four weeks, and no one would even guess it. I went into a shop yesterday and I paid for some groceries with a cheque, and they called me “Miss”, not “Madam#8221;. Here I am, practically forty, married and pregnant, and I’m still getting called Miss! And you want to know why?’