‘No. She’s a trooper. In both senses, ha-ha.’

One thing that worried him this time was that people would find out. He worried that no one would give him work, that his phone would stop ringing. So far only Teena knew what was going on. They had always based their relationship on telling the truth, and more specifically on an absence of sentimentality. This was something on which they prided themselves, although the problem then became one of how to show affection, how to make romantic gestures that were non-schmaltzy and authentic. The risk was lapsing into a codependent indifference, living in close proximity like two neutral adjacent atoms, having no need to bond by swapping electrons. Luckily, this problem fell away during the night. This was when they spooned in bed (Sebastian liked to be big spoon), or when he wriggled blindly across the wide cool sheet to find Teena where she lay at the other side, poised as if to roll off the edge of a continent.

When they had found out about his new scan, she had cried a little. He had told her she should leave him, saying, ‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t want this for you.’

She shook her head and wiped her tears. She said, ‘I already did my thinking.’

‘What do you mean? When?’

‘Last time around.’

‘Oh.’ He was surprised to hear this and also a bit put out.

‘As you can see, I am still here.’

‘Yes,’ he said, nodding, but he felt far from reassured. He tried to keep a childish note from creeping into his voice. ‘Well, maybe it’s time for you to think about it again.’

It took an hour to get to the desert, taking a series of unsealed roads. They suited up before the checkpoint, pulling on pliable moulded masks, snapping on ventilators, and got back into the buggy. He had never learned to drive, and there was something comforting about being chauffeured by Teena, who drove with a technical competence that showed her years of training. As they left the gravity field, she changed down through the gears. The sound system died when they lost connectivity but Sebastian was happy to do without music. There was the sound of the throaty engine, the tyres eating up the road, and the rushing of cold air at the reinforced windscreen.

He had rung Teena on getting out from seeing the surgeon that afternoon. ‘Want to get out of town for a bit?’ he’d asked. ‘I’m sick of this joint.’

She had come to pick him up. As they got going, she asked, ‘Want to talk about it?’

‘Later,’ he replied. ‘Did you bring my suit, the lighter one?’

‘Yes.’ She glanced at his feet. ‘You wore those sneakers to see the doctor? I thought you were getting new ones.’