That evening I changed hotels, wanting somewhere smaller and less busy. I ate three times and went to bed early, still a little groggy from the operation.

The next day was a fine one, and I awoke in an excellent mood. If I lacked Ralph’s sense of purpose, I didn’t lack enthusiasm. Whatever I was going to do, I was up for it.

There I was, walking in the street, shopping for the trip I had finally decided to take, when two gay men in their thirties started waving and shouting from across the road.

“Mark, Mark!” they called, straight at me. “It’s you! How are you! We’ve missed you!”

I was looking around. There was no one else they could have been motioning to. Perhaps my leather trousers were already having an effect on the general public. But it was more than that: the couple were moving through the traffic, their arms extended. I considered running away—I thought I might pretend to be jogging—but they were almost on me. I could only face them as they greeted me warmly. In fact, they both embraced me.

Luckily, their talk was relentless and almost entirely about themselves. When I managed to inform them that I was about to go on holiday, they told me they were going away too, with friends, an artist and a couple of dancers.

“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.