When Lili and Werner got to the lake Werner turned west, following the shoreline. He had obviously scouted this the day before. The ground was intermittently rough. The fair-haired Stasi agent followed them at a distance, not without difficulty: he was not dressed for hiking. Sometimes they paused, pretending they needed a rest, to let him catch up.

They walked for two hours, then came to a long, deserted beach. Partway along, a rough track emerged from trees to dead-end at the high-tide mark.

Parked there was the bronze Trabant with Carla at the wheel.

There was no one else in sight.

Werner and Lili got into the car and Carla drove off, leaving the Stasi man stranded.

Lili resisted the temptation to wave good-bye.

Werner said to Carla: “You shook off the other guy.”

“Yes,” said Carla. “I created a diversion outside the grocery store by setting fire to a rubbish bin.”

Werner grinned. “A trick you learned from me many years ago.”

“Absolutely. Naturally he got out of his car and went to see what was happening.”

“And then . . .”

“While he was distracted, I put a nail in his tire. Left him changing the wheel.”

“Nice.”

Lili said: “You two did this stuff in the war, didn’t you?”

There was a pause. They never spoke much about the war. Eventually Carla said: “Yes, we did a little bit, nothing worth boasting about.”

That was all they ever said.

They drove to a village and slowed down at a small house with a sign in English saying BAR. A man standing outside directed them to park in a field at the back, out of sight.

They went inside to a small bar too charming to be a government enterprise. Right away Lili saw her sister, Rebecca, and threw her arms around her. They had not been together for eighteen years. Lili tried to look at Rebecca’s face but could not see for tears. Carla and Werner hugged Rebecca in turn.

When at last Lili’s vision cleared she saw that Rebecca looked middle-aged, which was no surprise: she would be fifty next birthday. She was heavier than Lili remembered.

But the most striking thing was how smart she looked. She wore a blue summer dress with a pattern of small dots, and a matching jacket. Around her neck was a silver chain with a single large pearl, and she had a chunky silver bracelet on her arm. Her smart sandals had a cork heel. Slung over her shoulder was a navy blue leather bag. Politics was not notably well paid, as far as Lili knew. Could it be that everyone in West Germany was this well dressed?

Rebecca led them through the bar to a private room at the back where a long table was already laid with cold meat platters, bowls of salad, and bottles of wine. Standing by the table was a thin, handsome, wasted-looking man in a white T-shirt and skinny black jeans. He might have been in his forties, or perhaps younger if he had suffered an illness. Lili assumed he must be an employee of the bar.