I was unprepared for that and bridled a bit. ‘Why? You said it wasn’t too bad.’

‘You’re what? Let’s see-184 centimetres, eighty-three kilos. I’d say you did a lot of sport when you were young, right?’

‘Yeah. Surfing, boxing

‘Pretty good were you, man?’

‘Not bad.’

‘You had a naturally athletic physique and a strong constitution which you’ve let run down. When did you stop smoking?’

‘Years ago.’

‘Did it for how long?’

‘Too long.’

‘How much do you drink?’

‘Too much.’

‘What I mean. You go on as you are and you’re going to tear a hamstring playing tennis or do a knee ligament. What kind of work do you do?’

‘Security, that sort of thing.’

‘Shit! Does that get physical?’

I thought of the heavy with the hard stomach and the knuckleduster. ‘Occasionally. Not if I can help it.’

‘So why are you here?’

His manner was a bit hard to take-almost aggressive, not quite. Very serious, but slightly mocking. He smiled, then threw a punch at me. From old habit, I slipped it and moved inside and could have thumped him over the heart except that I suspected it would have hurt me more than it would him.

‘Hey, Cliff, you’re quick. That’s good.’

He was pleased and I was pleased. That got us on a better footing and I told him about the fight I’d almost lost and the tiredness and a few aches and pains stemming from old injuries.

‘I can give you a weight training and stretching program that’ll make a new man of you if you stick at it. Three days a week, an hour per session. Plus some deep tissue massage that’ll hurt but get the kinks out.’

I signed up for five hundred dollars for a six-month program and started going to the gym early on Monday, Wednesday and Friday mornings. The first day, Clinton, Wesley’s son, a slim coffee-coloured youth with cropped hair and perfect teeth doing a degree in human movement at the Southwestern University, took me through the stretching exercises and showed me how to work the weight machines.