He turned from the piano and picked up his guitar. He had bought it a year ago in a pawnshop in West Berlin. It had probably been pledged by an American soldier against a loan that was never repaid. The brand name was Martin and, although it had been cheap, it seemed to Walli a very good instrument. He guessed that neither the pawnbroker nor the soldier had realized its worth.

“Listen to this,” he said to Lili, and he began to sing a Bahamian tune called “All My Trials” with lyrics in English. He had heard it on Western radio stations: it was popular with American folk groups. The minor chords made it a melancholy song, and he was pleased with the plaintive fingerpicking accompaniment he had devised.

When he had finished, Grandma Maud looked over the top of the newspaper and said in English: “Your accent is perfectly dreadful, Walli, dear.”

“Sorry.”

She reverted to German. “But you sing nicely.”

“Thank you.” Walli turned to Lili. “What do you think of the song?”

“It’s a bit dreary,” she said. “Maybe I’ll like it more when I’ve heard it a few times.”

“That’s no good,” he said. “I want to play it tonight at the Minnesänger.” This was a folk club just off the Kurfürstendamm in West Berlin. The name meant “troubadour.”

Lili was impressed. “You’re playing at the Minnesänger?”

“It’s a special night. They’re having a contest. Anybody can play. The winner gets a chance of a regular gig.”

“I didn’t know clubs did that.”

“They don’t usually. This is a one-off.”

Grandma Maud said: “Don’t you have to be older to go to such a place?”

“Yes, but I’ve got in before.”

Lili said: “Walli looks older than he is.”

“Hmm.”

Lili said to Walli: “You’ve never sung in public. Are you nervous?”

“You bet.”

“You should play something more cheerful.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“How about ‘This Land Is Your Land’? I love that one.”

Walli played it, and Lili sang along.

While they were singing, their older sister, Rebecca, came in. Walli adored Rebecca. After the war, when their parents had been desperately working all hours to feed the family, Rebecca had often been left in charge of Walli and Lili. She was like a second mother, but not so strict.

And she had such guts! He had watched with awe as she threw her husband’s matchstick model out of the window. Walli had never liked Hans, and was secretly glad to see him go.

All the neighbors were talking about how Rebecca had unknowingly married a Stasi officer. It had given Walli status in school: no one had previously imagined there was anything special about the Francks. Girls especially were fascinated by the thought that everything said and done in his house had been reported to the police for almost a year.

Even though Rebecca was his sister, Walli could see that she was gorgeous. She had a fabulous figure and a lovely face that showed both kindness and strength. But now he noticed that she looked as if someone had died. He stopped playing and said: “What’s the matter?”