‘If you are going back to your place, you don’t have to take a bus, there is a path through the fence that takes you there in about ten minutes. Let me show you.’ He led the way and she followed without a word.

They took the path through the torn portion in the fence. On the way they tried to make small talk, but without success.

‘I never knew this short cut existed,’ she said.

‘I discovered it the day I went to your place,’ he replied.

They fell silent after that. Soon they were in front of the ornamented iron gate.

‘Here we are,’ he announced proudly, like a genie that had conjured up some wonderful spectacle for her delight alone.

‘Well, come on in and listen to some of my soul records – I have lots and lots of them,’ she said, and pushed open the gate before he could comment. The space before the front door resonated with the memory of the sports car; the living room, the TV, the seats were all redolent of the car owner.

‘Sit down,’ Alice said; she threw her bag into a seat. Lomba sat down.

She was not boasting when she said she had stacks of soul records. There were over thirty in the box she lugged out of her bedroom.

‘They are all new!’ he exclaimed.

‘Well-preserved. My father bought them before I was born.’

He got down on his knees beside her and took out the LPs one by one: Eddie Floyd, Funkadelic, Sam Cooke, Otis Redding, Marvin Gaye, Smokey Robinson, Percy Sledge, etc.

‘Let’s play them,’ he said, but he could not see a turntable anywhere.

‘The player is in the bedroom. I play them when I can’t sleep. Let’s go in.’

He must have shown his hesitation. She said, ‘Don’t worry, I am all alone, my flatmate has gone on a journey.’

He took the box and followed her. In the bedroom he put it on a settee against the wall. The carpeted floor was littered with female things – body-cream containers, perfume bottles, shoes – and a book or two. She bent down and attempted to clear the floor, then stopped halfway.

‘Sorry about the mess, but I never planned to have anyone in here.’ She cleared a place on the bed and told him to sit down. They agreed to play Percy Sledge first.

She kicked off her shoes and stretched out on her back beside him. He was seated on the edge of the bed, staring at her upturned face; her eyes were closed as she hummed along to ‘When a Man Loves a Woman’.

‘Do you think that is true?’ she asked suddenly, opening her eyes, catching him staring intently at her face.

‘What?’

‘Do you believe a man in love is so naive? Does he really do all those things the song says?’