‘So, Edward.’ Dr Taylor smiles across her desk at me. She’s a kindly, middle-aged woman, which makes all this worse, because it’s like talking to my mum. ‘What can I do for you?’ I clear my throat awkwardly. ‘It’s a little embarrassing, really.’ ‘Come on now. Don’t be shy. I’ve known you since you were this high.’ She holds her hand at groin level, which I can’t help thinking is rather appropriate. ‘Okay. Here goes. I’m, um, worried I might have caught something. You know, down there.’ I point towards my trousers. ‘And I wanted to get tested. See if I’m all clear. Or, well, not.’ Dr Taylor picks up a clipboard and a pen. ‘Have you got any symptoms?’ I swallow hard. ‘What kind of symptoms?’ ‘Itching. Any discharge. A rash or general redness. Trust me, you’d know if you had them.’ I relax a little. Symptoms are the one thing I don’t have. Apart from the redness, of course. But that’s just my face, from sitting here and having this conversation.
