“Your accent’s changed, too,” they said. “Very British.”

“It’s London, dear. I’m a new man now,” I explained. “A reinvention.”

“We’re so pleased.”

I understood that the last time we met, in New York, my mental state hadn’t been good, which was why they were pleased to see me out shopping in London. They and their circle of friends had been worried about me.

I survived this, and soon we were saying our farewells. The two men kissed and hugged me.

“And you’re looking good,” they added. “You’re not modeling anymore, are you?”

“Not at the moment,” I said.

One of them said, “But you’re not doing the other thing, are you, for money?”

“Oh, not right now.”

“It was driving you crazy.”

“Yes, yes,” I said. “I believe it was.”

“Shame the boy band idea didn’t work out. Particularly after you got through the audition with that weird song.”

“Too unstable, I guess.”

“Would you like to join us for a drink—of orange juice, of course? Why not?”

“Yes, yes,” said the other. “Let’s go and talk somewhere.”

“I’m sorry, but I must go,” I said, moving away. “I’m already late for my psychiatrist! He tells me there’s much to be done!”

“Enjoy!”

I rang Ralph straight away.

“You got your erection, eh?” he said.

I insisted on seeing him. He was rehearsing. He made me go to the college canteen during his tea break and wait. When he did turn up, he seemed preoccupied, having had an argument with Ophelia. I didn’t care. I told him what had happened to me on the street.

“That shouldn’t have occurred,” he said, with some concern. “It’s never happened to me, though I guess I’ll start to get recognized when I’ve played Hamlet.”

“What is going on? Don’t they do any checks first?”

“Of course,” he said. “But the world’s a small place now. Your guy’s from L.A.”

“Mark. That’s his name. That’s what they called me.”

“So? How can anyone be expected to know he’s got friends in Kensington?”

“Suppose he’s wanted by the police somewhere?”

He shook his head. “It won’t happen again,” he said confidently. “The chances of such a repeat are low, statistically.”

“There have been other weird occurrences.”

“For example?” He didn’t want to hear, but he had to.

“Tell me, first, how did he die, my body, my man?”

Ralph hesitated. “Why do you want to know?”

“Why, are you not allowed to tell me?”

“This is a new area.”

I went on, “In bed, I was aware of these twinges, or sensations. There were times in my Oldbody life, particularly as I got older, or when I was meditating, when I felt that the limits of my mind and body had been extended. I felt, almost mystically, part of others, an ‘outgrowth of the One.’”

“Really?”

“This is different. It’s as if I have a ghost or shadow soul inside me. I can feel things, perhaps memories, of the man who was here first. Perhaps the physical body has a soul. There’s a phrase of Freud’s that might apply here: the bodily ego, he calls it, I think.”