He took Leonard’s blood pressure, listened to his heart and lungs, peered inside his mouth, palpated his liver, traced his digestive tract, prodded his armpits and neck and groin, asked about skin lesions, upper-respiratory-tract infections, diarrhoea, anal warts, herpes. He removed the surgical gloves and typed his findings into the computer. Then with a clean pair of gloves he took blood. Leonard watched the procedure, he watched as if it were an operation being performed on someone else. It was the only time during the entire appointment he felt detached from what was happening.

‘The results will take two to three weeks,’ the doctor said, sealing and labelling the vials. ‘How would you like to be notified?’

Leonard gave his direct line at the office, and was about to ask for discretion when the doctor said they were well aware of the need for privacy. They would, if Leonard was unavailable, leave an innocuous message asking him to call back.

It was eleven o’clock when Leonard left the clinic. The sun was shining, the trees were bursting with blossom, spring had definitely arrived — and far too tempting to see this as a good omen. Leonard had parked in a one-hour space; of course there was a ticket on his windscreen. He had known he would be longer than an hour, and he knew the parking officers in this area were ruthless. It was as if he were deliberately courting a manageable type of punishment in order to neutralise the punishment that was out of his control. But for what? Being who he was? Who he had always been? As he pocketed the parking ticket — easily paid, easily dismissed — he wished he had the same control over whatever might be swirling in his blood.

For the next two and a half weeks, Leonard arrived at the office early and remained until late. After dinner, he went for a walk — not his usual solitary hike, he did not want to be alone, but a more leisurely stroll with Sylvie. If it had been feasible he would have liked the two of them to walk out of their life altogether: new city, new friends, new interests, new beginning. Of course it was impossible, and not just the confessions and the practicalities involved, but Sylvie had an aversion to change. The giddy, irrepressible girl who had waylaid him all those years ago in the men’s department of Myer had, through the years, become more and more fixed in her ways.