The little girls rustled in their beds. One was whispering in her sleep. It was her second summer up here. It would never be any different. Never. Why doesn’t Mummy come here, the child thought. But she would have to take her away with her, because even Mummy was no match for Frau Adriani. No one was. Footsteps? What if she came now? Once Gertie had been ill; then Frau Adriani had come up five times in the night – five times to look after the little girl, and fought almost jealously with her illness. In the end she had conquered the fever. What if she came now? Silence – one of the eight beds creaked. That was Lisa Wedigen, she was always a restless sleeper. If only somebody – somebody – somebody . . . Tomorrow they were going swimming in the lake. The girls always splashed you, if only somebody –

Her hands felt carefully under the pillow, searched the bedding, moved all the blankets. Gone? No. They were still there.

Under the pillow, wilted and crushed, were the two harebells.

Chapter Three

Eggs is eggs, he said –

and grabbed the biggest

1

We bent over the letter and read it together:

Dear Chap,

I still have a week’s holiday owing to me this year, and I’d very much like to spend it with you and your lady friend. I hear you’re in Sweden. Dear friend, would you like to put up your old comrade-in-arms, who gave you a leg-up in the odd shell-hole or two? I’ll pay for my own transport; it hurts me to have to spend money on myself; it’s not my usual way of doing things, as you know. Write and tell me, dear friend, how to get to you.

Can I stay there? Are you staying there? Are there lots of girls? Should I not come? Shall we get drunk on our first evening together? Do you love me?

I enclose a picture of my little girl. She’s almost as beautiful as her father.

I’m looking forward very much to seeing you, and am your good

Karlchen.

Underneath, in red ink, like a mark on a file, there was:

‘Straightaway! Yesterday, preferably! Indescribably urgent!’

‘Well,’ I said. ‘That’s Karlchen, then. Should he come?’

The Princess looked tanned and refreshed. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘let him come now. I’ve had a rest, and if he’s leaving after a week anyway? It’s always nice to have a change.’ I wrote accordingly.

We were in the middle of our holidays.

Swimming in the lake; lying naked on the shore, in a sheltered spot; soaking up the sun, so that you rolled home at noon, wonderfully dozy, and drunk on the light, the air and the water; quiet; eating; drinking; sleeping; resting – holiday.

Then the day arrived.

‘Shall we go and pick him up?’

‘Yes, let’s.’