“Yes,” Walli said.

“That’s it, then,” said Lenny. “You’re in.”

Walli was not convinced. “What about Geoff?”

“I’ll talk to him when he gets up.”

They went to a café called Harald’s on Grosse Freiheit and had coffee and cigarettes for an hour, then they came back and woke Geoff. He looked ill, which was not surprising after drinking so much that he had passed out. He sat on the edge of his bed while Lenny talked to him and the others listened from the doorway. “You’re out of the group,” Lenny said. “I’m sorry about it, but you let us down badly last night. You were too drunk to stand up, let alone play. Walli took your place and I’m making him permanent.”

“He’s just a punk kid,” Geoff managed.

Lenny said: “Not only is he sober, he’s a better guitarist than you.”

“I need coffee,” said Geoff.

“Go to Harald’s.”

They did not see Geoff again before they left for the club.

They were setting up onstage just before eight when Geoff walked in, sober, guitar in hand.

Walli stared at him in consternation. Earlier he had got the impression Geoff had accepted that he was fired. Maybe he had just been too hungover to argue.

Whatever the reason, he had not packed his bag and left, and Walli became anxious. He had suffered so many setbacks: the police smashing up his guitar so that he could not appear at the Minnesänger; Karolin withdrawing from the gig at the Europe Hotel; and the proprietor of El Paso pulling the plug halfway through his first song. Surely this would not turn into another disappointment?

They all stopped what they were doing and watched as Geoff climbed onstage and opened his guitar case.

At that point Lenny said: “What are you doing, Geoff?”

“I’m going to show you that I’m the best guitarist you’ve ever heard.”

“For Pete’s sake! You’re fired and that’s that. Just fuck off to the station and catch a train to Hook.”

Geoff changed his tone and became wheedling. “We’ve been playing together for six years, Lenny. That has to count for something. You have to give me one chance.”

This seemed so reasonable that Walli, to his alarm, felt sure Lenny would agree. But Lenny shook his head. “You’re an all right guitar player, but you’re no genius, and you’re an awkward bastard too. Since we got here you’ve been playing so badly that we were on the point of being fired last night when Walli joined us.”

Geoff looked around. “What do the others think?” he said.

“Who told you this group was a democracy?” Lenny said.

“Who told you it’s not?” Geoff turned to Lew, the drummer, who was adjusting a foot pedal. “What do you think?”

Lew was Geoff’s cousin. “Give him another chance,” Lew said.

Geoff addressed the bassist. “What about you, Buzz?”

Buzz was an easygoing character who would go along with whoever shouted loudest. “I’d give him a chance.”