Within days of coming to Berlin he had begun to lean on this strength of his sister. After Africa, he liked the idea of the great cold, and she took him out walking, treacherous though the pavements were, and shaky though he still was. Sometimes when they were in restaurants Tamil boys came in selling long-stalked roses. They were unsmiling, boys with a mission, raising funds for the great Tamil war far away, and they hardly looked at Willie or his sister. They were of another generation, but Willie saw himself in them. He thought, ‘That was how I appeared in London. That is how I appear now. I am not as alone as I thought.’ Then he thought, ‘But I am wrong. I am not like them. I am forty-one, in middle life. They are fifteen or twenty years younger, and the world has changed. They have proclaimed who they are and they are risking everything for it. I have been hiding from myself. I have risked nothing. And now the best part of my life is over.’