‘That was one of the best nights ever. Thank you so much for organising it.’

I lean over and kiss Matt, who, due to his height, isn’t that much shorter than me in his seated position. He puts his arms round my waist, pulls me onto his lap and kisses me deeply. My whole body tingles in response.

‘All right, break it up. Nobody wants to see that,’ Sammy jokes. ‘Especially when they don’t have a girl of their own to do it with.’

Matt and I pull apart, laughing, and I feel myself redden.

‘Sorry, it must be the music.’

‘I’m just joshing.’ Sammy gives me a cheeky wink. ‘Listen, Alex, that lead vocalist slot is yours if you want it. I know you’ve said you’ve a lot on, but mate, you should not be wasting that voice. Right guys?’

There’s enthusiastic collective agreement from the rest of the band.

I glance at Matt, who simply shrugs, signalling his agreement with the others. What to do? My heart is screaming ‘do it’, but my head knows better: one thing too much and all the dominos could topple. I don’t understand my condition enough yet to know how it will behave. What I do know is that my stamina isn’t what it was.

At the same time, it has been such a buzz being here tonight. I feel so energised. Maybe I’m looking at this all in the wrong way. People who stay focused and determined often fare well. You read inspirational stories like this all the time. I obviously can’t beat my MS, but who’s to say I can’t benefit from this state of mind?

Matt and Sammy are scrutinising my expression, trying to work out what’s going through my mind.

‘What’s the time commitment?’ I ask.

‘Rehearsals once a week – just like this – and gigs most weekends,’ says Sammy.

‘Do you have a backup singer? Just in case?’

‘I’ve been doing the singing recently. Nowhere near as good as you, but I’m well enough received. It would be no problem if you couldn’t make the odd gig.’

I mull this over for a second. ‘OK, how about I join you on a trial basis and we see how it goes?’

‘We’ve got a good one, lads.’ Sammy whoops. ‘Welcome to the band, Alex.’

There’s a collective cheer as the rest of the band members click beer bottles and toast me. I suddenly realise something.

‘Wait, what are you guys called? Who am I joining?’

‘We, Alex, are Capital Parade.’ Sammy puffs his chest up proudly.

‘I love that. Thank you for having me.’

As Sammy joins the other band members to continue the bottle-clinking, Matt squeezes me round the waist. ‘I’m so pleased you’re in. For you, because you should be making the most of that voice. But also because I can be your groupie. I can run you to rehearsals if you like.’

I’m simultaneously relieved by this offer and filled with a rising excitement. But it sinks like a lead weight the moment I realise something: have I just inadvertently signed up to a future with Matt? If so, what does that mean for me and Dom? And has this decision to join the band and accept lifts to rehearsals been too premature, given we’re only on date three and he doesn’t know who I really am?