People hounded him about the disappearances mercilessly for weeks after the concert, first the police, then the Becks, then people from school. To Gerald’s eye, the refugees therefore presented a rather forlorn little group, almost huddling together and chattering in low tones in their own tongue. ‘She is constantly thinking of you,’ I said. He wore a threecornered hat, a sandy-coloured scratch wig, and had a thick woollen wrapper folded round his throat.
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