That made me think so hard, I almost forgot to follow the other two, who were already standing in the street, nibbling raisins. ‘We’ll find a doll for the child,’ said the Princess. ‘Come along! Oh no, wait – I’ll do it . . . no, Billie come with me!’

For a tiny instant, I felt sorry; I would have liked to stand on the pavement alone with Billie. What would we have said to each other? Nothing, of course.

‘Did you?’

‘We did,’ shouted Billie.

‘Let’s see it,’ I said.

‘But not on the street!’ she said.

‘D’you think the dolly will catch cold?’ said the Princess, and unwrapped the parcel. It was a Swedish girl, dressed in the national costume of Dalarne, bright and colourful. She was covered up again. ‘For it is more blessed to wrap than to receive,’ said the Princess, and tied the string. ‘Well then, let’s . . . Do you think she shoots, our dear lady?’

‘Just leave her to me . . .!’

‘No, I won’t, Poppa. You only come into it if she becomes abusive, and the fur starts flying. You do the introduction, and tell her that we’ve got the letter and everything, and then I’ll have it out with her.’

‘What about me?’ asked Billie.

‘You lie down in the woods in the meantime, Billie, we can’t possibly march up to the lady like an avenging army. Everything would be lost. Even two of us – it’s this way – is too many. Two against one – the one will start growling before we’ve even said anything . . .’

‘Well, you can hardly growl more than she does anyway. What a bitch!’ I had taken Billie’s arm.

‘Are you managing to do any work here?’ asked Billie.

‘Not likely!’ I said. ‘I’m pausing for inspiration . . . you’re a nice chap, Billie,’ I said quite out of the blue.

‘You young people,’ said the Princess, and made a face like a well-meaning aunt arranging an engagement, ‘I’m so glad you’re fond of each other!’

I heard the undertone. At that moment I felt what real friends they were – there wasn’t a trace of jealousy there; we three genuinely liked each other.

Now the path started to look familiar to me, there was the fence and there was the children’s home.

Billie had walked slowly on, and we reached the door. No bell. They probably had no use for visitors here. We knocked.

After a long time, we heard footsteps approaching, and a maid opened the door.

‘Kan Ni tala tyska?’ I asked.

‘Hello . . . yes, yes . . . what do you want?’ she asked, smiling. She was obviously pleased to be able to speak German with us.

‘We’d like to see Frau Adriani,’ I said.

‘Yes . . . I don’t know if she has time. Frau Adriani is just taking roll call, that is . . . she’s inspecting the children’s belongings. I’ll just . . . one moment please . . .’