‘I’ve always been into music. Learned the piano when I was a kid, but my grammar school shut down, and I had to move to a rough comprehensive for sixth form. Continuing piano lessons was not an option.’

‘Was that why you took up the guitar?’

‘Yeah. Less likely to get me beaten up.’

Sam laughed.

‘I was studying Chemistry at Leeds when the boys came to play at the Student Union. I joined them in a jamming session and they asked me to join the band. They weren’t much cop without me.’ Dan grinned immodestly and Sam laughed again.

‘So you just gave up on your studies?’ She was genuinely curious: the concept was almost inconceivable to her.

‘Yeah.’ As he looked at her uncomprehending face, he tried to explain himself. ‘I was really bored, Sambo. Realized I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life shut up in a lab in a white coat. Reckoned it would be more fun showing off on stage with screaming girls throwing themselves at me.’

‘And is it?’

‘What do you think, clever clogs?’ Dan raised his eyebrows at her.

‘I suppose it could be, for a show-off like you anyway. Some of us enjoy using our brains,’ said Sam primly, and Dan threw one of the sofa cushions at her, laughing.

She threw it back at him, and soon they found themselves in what was, effectively, a pillow fight, with sofa cushions instead of pillows. They suddenly stopped, and just stood there, gazing into each other’s eyes, hearts beating furiously again. Dan’s dark-fringed eyes were actually more dark green than brown, Sam noticed.

‘Hey, honey, I’m home!’ Olly’s cheerful voice and the slamming of the front door made them jump apart from one another immediately. When he walked jauntily into the room, laden with carrier bags bearing cool music-shop logos, Dan was getting another beer out of the fridge, and Sam rearranging the sofa cushions. They were studiously ignoring each other.

‘Well, that was a successful trip.’ Olly started to tell Dan all about his purchases, in intricate technical detail.

‘That’s great, mate, great,’ said Dan distractedly.

‘Yeah, well it’s important for us to sound our best on Friday. There are rumours that the A&R man from Pistol Records is going to be there …’

This was enough to get Dan’s attention. His head shot up.

‘What? Where did you hear that?’

‘Hellcat texted me this morning.’ Hellcat was one of the barmaids at Barfly, the quintessentially grimy Camden music venue the band was playing the following Friday.

‘And you didn’t think to tell me till now? Jesus Christ, Olly.’ Dan was shaking his dark head in disbelief. ‘I know you’re a laid-back bastard, but this takes the fucking biscuit. This could be our big chance.’ His eyes were shining, his excitement palpable. ‘Right, I think we need some new material. Something to really make the A&R bloke sit up and notice us.’

‘Dan, you’re mad – we’ve got less than a week,’ Olly protested, cracking open a beer, switching on the TV and settling down for an afternoon in front of the footy.