With the introductions over, the doctor got down to business. He began with a general medical history, which, given Leonard’s excellent health, was completed quickly. The doctor then moved on to Leonard’s sexual history, a picking over the past that sounded so sordid: sex in public toilets, in parks, in swimming-pool change rooms, in the swimming pool itself, in sand dunes, in a cemetery. The interrogation delved into his first sexual experience (with a boy at school), right up to and including his years with Winston. There were questions about safe sex, when this began, and whether he always practised it now. The doctor typed all the information into an extremely neat computer. It was much the same size as a milk crate, and a far more compact machine than those the girls used at the office; if the circumstances had been different, Leonard would have asked about it.

With the history noted, questions now focused on the sexual partner Leonard knew to be HIV-positive, the man who had brought Leonard to the clinic today. The doctor requested his full name, and, when Leonard hesitated, noted drily that the man’s secret, if ever it was a secret, was no longer. At the mention of the name, the doctor nodded.

‘You know him?’ Leonard asked.

‘Knew him,’ the doctor replied.

The doctor wanted to know the dates and whereabouts of their affair, as he and his colleagues were mapping the spread of the disease, what the doctor called ‘its geography’. And he wanted to know what their sexual practices had been, or, given the length of time that had elapsed, their likely sexual practices. ‘We’re trying to create a profile of the sort of activity that increases the chances of transmission.’ He also wanted to know about Leonard’s general health during his time with the infected man, as there was a possibility that the presence of other infections increased susceptibility to the HIV virus.

It was embarrassing, it was humiliating. Every question felt like a condemnation, not because of the doctor’s manner — he was businesslike, and showed no emotion — but due to the data itself. Leonard just wanted the interrogation to be over, and thirty minutes later it was. Except for one final issue.

‘Your wife,’ the doctor said. ‘If you test positive, your wife could well be infected.’

‘But we haven’t slept together for twenty years.’ Leonard heard the pleading in his voice.

‘And we don’t know how long this disease has been around. Although I do concede it’s unlikely to have been twenty years.’

It was the only good news in the entire consultation.

‘But,’ the doctor continued, ‘the virus is also transmitted by blood.’ He shrugged. ‘If you test positive, it’s feasible that a cut or a wound could have exposed your wife to the disease.’

There was no good news.