Winston laughed. ‘A mythical beast. Australians like family-run companies. Grandfathers, fathers and sons all working harmoniously together.’ He paused a moment. ‘Although, for many of us, this company does feel like family. Most employees, both in the office and on the factory floor, have worked for Morrow’s for years. I’m one of the new boys.’ And again that sweet smile. ‘I’ve only been here a decade.’

Galina was interested in his background; all newcomers to Australia interested her, particularly those like Winston, who appeared to have adjusted well. She learned that both he and his brother had been sent overseas for their university studies, the brother to America and Winston to Australia. ‘It was insurance for the future,’ he said, and explained about the return of Hong Kong to China. ‘At that time no date had been set, and while many Hong Kongers hoped it would never happen, my parents thought it best to be prepared.’ His expression was serious and suddenly he looked a good deal older. ’And they were right. We now know Hong Kong will be returning to the Chinese in less than ten years. That we don’t want to be part of mainland China doesn’t matter one jot, it’s been taken out of our hands.’ He shrugged. ‘Actually, it was never in our hands.’

Since the announcement of the handover date, there had been a massive exodus of businesspeople, as well as lawyers, doctors and other professionals. ‘It’s been a significant loss,’ Winston said.

‘And your parents?’

‘They’re still in Hong Kong, and that’s where they’ll remain. They’re too old to move now. But they visit here, and they visit my brother in Chicago, and of course we go home regularly.’

‘Australia is full of exiles,’ Galina said quietly.

‘No. No.’ Winston shook his head. ‘I don’t see myself as an exile. I go back to Hong Kong whenever I want. I could go back and live there if I chose. But the life here suits me better.’

And that was the crucial difference. She didn’t have a choice. When she received her exit visa to leave the Soviet Union, she forfeited any right of return. Ever. But there was something else. Imprinted in the semantics of exile was a desire to return, and the assumption that when things had improved, you’d be permitted to return. She’d seen refugee camps on TV, huge tented cities established for people seeking sanctuary from persecution for a few months, perhaps a year, before returning home. But ten years, even twenty years on, there was a second generation of displaced people in these camps, and they, like their parents, dreamed of a time when it’d be safe to go home.

Perhaps you stopped being an exile when you no longer wanted to return home because you were home.

‘Where is home for you now?’ she asked Winston as they made their way back to the office.

He did not hesitate. ‘At the moment it’s here, Australia. But as soon as I return to Hong Kong, my home is there.’