‘The bloods will follow up, but we may get some sort of indication. It should normally be after at least four weeks, but we can see if your antibodies are active against a virus. It’ll take twenty minutes for the result, so I suggest you have some acupuncture here with Dr Sheema.’

Ever also knew her well and that it would be a pleasant enough, if not this time an entirely relaxing, waiting experience. He always came out with a load of herbs and vitamins, sold on site by another white turban-wearing Sikh woman, Lola, who had also known him since he was a child. Remarkably she was still working there. They were pretty much all faces he remembered, apart from the nurse in the room, who had escorted him in, the prettiest face and the youngest face he had ever seen there.

‘Good. Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll be fine, and if not, I can deal with it.’

And with that the doctor was off, light-footed, even in his clogs, with a stroke of the beard, hand drawn from chin downwards to the end, being the typically final gesture on his departure.

The needles were mainly placed around the meridians to promote relaxation; she always seemed to have a way with the four-way pulse procedure of knowing what was needed. He was drifting into a doze when a hand squeezed his arm, the thin wrist carried a gold IWC Schaffhausen watch.

‘No antibody action, I think you’re going to be fine, I’ll be in touch with the bloods and take it easy on yourself. God bless.’

Done and dusted, thought Ever, all he had to do now was pray. He paid under the watchful, but he had to admit, caring eye of Manita. He wanted to hug Lomita with a relief that she wouldn’t be able to share.

Thank you, thank you, he kept saying to himself in the elevator to P2, the parking level housing the Suburban.

‘What did he give you?’

The first question that was fired at him as he opened the big black shining hunk of door.

‘Nothing. He told me to take it easier on myself, and I had some acupuncture, which was great. And these supplements’

Showing, with a child-like enthusiasm, his white paper bag.

‘Did you tell him you were consuming diazepam to calm yourself?’

‘Yes.’

He lied for the second time in an hour.

‘He said that was OK, I told him they were prescribed by my doctor in the UK. No more than ten milligrams a day for three weeks maximum, after that if my anxiety state is still high, to return and, anyway, I’m glad I went. Thank you for taking me.’

‘We’re not done yet, my sweet, your apartment.’

Ever was feeling lame.