‘I saw him around but we never really talked again. Pretty sure he didn’t get into acting class, though. Shame, he would have been good at it. He had that thing where he could imitate people just by changing his posture. When he was younger you’d see him walking behind people, copying their movements. He was pretty good at it. It cracked his brother up, but, like I said, don’t think the dad saw much point in that kind of thing.’

‘Was he close to his brother?’

He thinks before replying. ‘He seemed protective of him. I guess their father didn’t really look out for them so Rein took on that role for his younger brother. Only natural really. So what’s he done that you’re here asking questions? Must be bad.’

‘I can’t go into that, but if you know where I can find him it would be very useful.’

The man pulls a thread from his sleeve and wraps it round a finger until the tip goes pink, then white. He releases it.

‘No, can’t help. Sorry. Last time I saw him would have been ten, eleven years ago. The brother died I heard, and then Rein left. Not long after someone else moved into their flat.’

Beethoven moves things up a notch. It’s still slow, but it’s got intense all of a sudden.

‘Seven?’

He smiles but shakes his head.

‘Three. “Eroica”. Dedicated to Napoleon. Then undedicated when it turned out he was just as much a tyrant as anyone else. Way of the world as far as I can see.’

A plane rumbles overhead. I can see its reflection in the window.

‘Were you here when the plane hit?’

‘No, luckily I was out. Heard about it when I was riding back on the tram. Rammed that block over there.’ He points out of the window, across the garden. ‘Helluva mess. Had to be evacuated until they were sure the other buildings weren’t going to go.’

My phone goes off. I let it go to answer machine.

‘I stayed with my sister for a year afterwards. I think that was crucial. Many people who came back straight away got sick. I didn’t.’

I spend a few more minutes with him, but there’s nothing else he can tell me. Outside I stand for a moment and look up as if the answer to it all is up there, written on the sky. Then I spot Vermeer exiting a flat at the far end of the walkway. I call out but the wind’s picked up and it funnels my voice elsewhere. I head in her direction, listening to my message on the way. It’s from Nellie. The board have given her a time. Hank’s life support will be turned off at six tomorrow evening. She asks me to be there.