Walli longed for only two things in life: to live with Karolin, and to be a professional musician.

One day soon after moving to Hamburg he walked along the Reeperbahn with his guitar slung over his shoulder and went into every bar to ask if they would like a singer-guitarist to entertain their customers. He believed he was good. He could sing, he could play, and he could please an audience. All he needed was a chance.

After a dozen or so rejections he struck lucky at a beer cellar called El Paso. The decor was evidently intended to be American, with the skull of a longhorn steer over the door and posters of cowboy films on the walls. The proprietor wore a Stetson, but his name was Dieter and he spoke with a Low German accent. “Can you play American music?” he said.

“You betcha,” said Walli in English.

“Come back at seven thirty. I’ll give you a trial.”

“How much would you pay me?” said Walli. Although he still got an allowance from Enok Andersen, the accountant at his father’s factory, he was desperate to prove he could be financially independent, and justify his refusal to follow his parents’ career advice.

But Dieter looked mildly offended, as if Walli had said something impolite. “Play for half an hour or so,” he said airily. “If I like you, then we can talk about money.”

Walli was inexperienced, but not stupid, and he felt sure that such evasiveness was a sign that the money would be low. However, this was the only offer he had got in two hours, and he accepted it.

He went home and spent the afternoon putting together half an hour of American songs. He would start with “If I Had a Hammer,” he decided; the audience at the Europe Hotel had liked it. He would do “This Land Is Your Land” and “A Mess of Blues.” He practised all his choices several times, though he hardly needed to.

When Rebecca and Bernd came home from work and heard his news, Rebecca announced that she would go with him. “I’ve never seen you play to an audience,” she said. “I’ve just heard you messing about at home and never finishing the song you started.”

It was kind of her, particularly as tonight she and Bernd were excited about something else: the visit to Germany of President Kennedy.

Walli and Rebecca’s parents believed that only American firmness had prevented the Soviet Union from taking over West Berlin and incorporating it into East Germany. Kennedy was a hero to them. Walli himself liked anyone who gave the tyrannical East German government a hard time.

Walli laid the table while Rebecca prepared supper. “Mother always taught us that if you want something you join a political party and campaign for it,” she said. “Bernd and I want East and West Germany to be reunited, so that we and thousands more Germans can be with their families again. That’s why we’ve joined the Free Democratic Party.”