She says the words in a rush, as if she’s trying to brush off whatever awkwardness she perceives from having just performed for a man who had no clue she could sing. A man who should have paid far more attention to her CV, because I knew she was a choral scholar at school, for Christ’s sake.

I give her a self-deprecating smile. ‘I do, but I’m not good at classical stuff.’

She grins at me. ‘Thank God. If you owned a Steinway and couldn’t play it, I might have to strangle you.’

‘I’m not that much of a wanker.’ That said, I may enjoy playing my piano, but it’s guaranteed that I don’t appreciate it enough. Not the way Marlowe so clearly just appreciated the hell out of it. ‘You can come over and play anytime,’ I tell her. ‘It’s no hardship for me to have the odd private concert.’

‘Thank you.’ She tilts her head to one side and plays a couple of wistful one-handed chords. ‘What kind of stuff do you play?’

‘You really want to know?’

‘Absolutely.’

‘Alright then. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Move up.’ I nudge her over further on the stool and let my fingers attack the keys, going straight into Great Balls of Fire. She lets out a gasp of surprise as I launch into the lyrics, channelling my inner Jerry Lee Lewis, and deliver a sweet glissando. When I hit the chorus, she joins in.

It’s clear she doesn’t know the lyrics of the verses, so I keep going with my little one-man show, giving it all my swagger. I hunch my shoulders; I pull back dramatically; I make my voice growl; I hit the keys so hard you’d think I was trying to punch through the keyboard. It couldn’t be more different from her beautiful, pared back version of Ave Maria, but she asked for a Brendan Sullivan Special and I’m damned if I’m not going to deliver.

By the time I finish, she’s laughing and clapping her hands beside me. She twists around to face me.

‘Oh my God! That was so good!’

‘It was a party piece,’ I tell her. ‘A good one, but just a bit of fun. It’s nothing like your talent.’

She shakes her head. ‘It was amazing. When did you learn to play like that?’