‘Maybe in a bit. Let’s just walk for a bit. I want to do karaoke. Do you know where there’s a karaoke bar?’

‘I don’t.’

‘Let’s see,’ she said, getting out her phone.

‘You don’t like karaoke.’

‘I love karaoke. Don’t you?’

‘I like singing.’

‘In which case you like karaoke.’

*

We found a place in Soho. The smallest booths were for four people so we had to pay for two ghosts as well as both of us. Emily paid for the room hire on her card: ‘That’s the advance gone.’ I ordered her a Coke and me a beer. She demanded vodka in her Coke. She was quite unsteady on her feet now. ‘What song are you going to open with?’ I asked and she forgot about the vodka.

Our heads were still filled with old soul tunes.

This old heart of mine…

A thousand times…

Let me go.

She had a clear, high voice that didn’t sound drunk at all when she was singing. I thought of the Diana Ross I could not separate from northern indie discos, lasses in heels queuing in the wind and drizzle, dance floors blue with fag smoke.

I joined in on the chorus, leaning into the same mic. I love you! I love you! We sang as loud as we could, bashing our hips together in time to the piano riff and collapsing into each other’s arms as we reached the song’s crescendo. I kissed her on the lips and she let me for a while before the song finished and she twisted away.

‘This is my favourite thing. I’m having so much fun.’ She leaned over the console and began to type into it.

‘Is this what you and Andrew do together?’

‘Absolutely not. Can you imagine?’

‘I didn’t really imagine this. Who do you do this with?’

‘Oh, my friend Richard, when I was back in Leeds.’

‘Oh,’ I said, and as the song started I turned away.

‘Paul?’ she said, touching me on my neck and I turned around and saw her notice something in my face before I hid it from her.

*

We stayed until the place shut. We were too busy singing and dancing to drink much more, and as we sobered up with each song I realised that there had been a chance of something happening which had now nearly slipped away, again. We were back in Soho, in central London, three miles away from the flat she shared with the man she was marrying.

‘Time to go, then,’ she said. The disco lights turned her face blue yellow red. I moved my head closer to hers and we assessed each other.

‘You are the best karaoke partner,’ I said. ‘I didn’t know this could be fun.’

‘Like I said: I’m a veteran.’

‘With that lad from the launch.’

‘With that lad. You sound annoyed about it.’

I shrugged.