These days Brian had formed the habit of being lulled to sleep on my shoulders, usually after dinner. His typical shouting had reduced which informed me that, of a truth, he wasn’t healthy. The healthy Brian whom I knew so well was supposed to be ravaging the entire villa with his shrill voice and ranting, not forgetting his usual stamping of feet on the door. He was indeed sick

It was evident in his fallen, sluggish eyes, cold feeble palms and skinny neck which gave him the looks of one suffering from malnutrition. Whenever I gazed upon him, I had this bruning this desire that he was acutely sick and...