‘Where are we off to?’ I ask, as I slide into the passenger seat of his car.

‘Patient one, you are.’ He chuckles. ‘Hi to you too.’

‘Sorry. I’m just intrigued. Hi.’ I lean over and meet him halfway for a slow, sensual kiss. He puts his hand on the back of my neck and pulls me towards him longingly.

‘Any clues at all?’ I ask again as we pull apart.

‘Let’s just say it’ll be a lively evening. You did have something to eat, didn’t you?’

‘Just as you instructed me to.’

‘Good.’

He puts the car into gear and pulls away. We drive for about ten minutes, but not being that familiar with Birmingham’s roads, I have little sense of where we’re going. My best guess would be that we appear to be skirting round the perimeter of the city centre. Matt eventually pulls into a space in a multistorey car park and turns to me.

‘It’s about a five-minute walk from here.’

‘And it is…?’

‘So close now, you may as well wait and find out.’

I exhale impatiently. ‘I’m not good with surprises.’

‘Clearly. It will be worth it. Promise.’

We get out of the car and head out of the car park onto a street-lit road.

‘This is the Newtown area of the city,’ he explains. ‘You’re unlikely to have been over this way.’

I look around me. It seems to be a more industry-focused area of the city, with red-brick factory-style buildings and grey steel shutters covering garage doorways, sporting the words ‘no parking’ in white spray paint. We walk hand in hand, silently, mirroring the calmness of the empty dark streets.

‘Gosh, this is a bit creepy,’ I joke. ‘Maybe I should have vetted you before agreeing to this. You could be some psycho and I’m merrily trotting along beside you to my untimely death.’

‘Crime drama fan, per chance?’ He gives me an amused sideways look.

‘That’s me. Think I prefer the fictional stuff though. True crime is a bit morbid, knowing it’s really happened. Makes me feel like a voyeuristic weirdo at a crime scene.’

‘I know what you mean. Ah, here we are.’

Matt stops outside a nondescript building and presses the buzzer by the doorway.

‘Hello?’ A crackling voice comes through the intercom.

‘Hi, it’s Matt. Sammy would have mentioned I’m coming along tonight.’

‘Come on in, mate.’

The door unlocks and we step inside.

‘What is this place?’ I ask, as live band music starts to filter along the corridor. ‘Is this one of these underground bars with a “members only” policy?’

‘You’ll see.’

Matt leads me along the corridor until we’re right outside the room the music’s coming from. It’s very loud and I can’t help wondering how small this bar is; it sounds like the band’s right behind the door. Matt pulls me in for a quick and intoxicating lip-smacking kiss, then opens it and beckons for me to follow him inside. As we enter, I realise it’s not a bar at all, but some kind of rehearsal studio. We move across to the other side of the room and take a seat at a small table.