“Yes. He has a factory making television sets. But my mother is determined to stay in the East. She says we must solve our problems, not run away from them.”

“I’ve met her. She’s a tiger.”

“That’s the truth. And the house we live in has been in her family for generations.”

“What about your husband?”

“He’s dedicated to his job.”

“So I don’t have to worry about losing you. Good.”

Rebecca said: “Bernd—” Then she hesitated.

“Spit it out.”

“Can I ask you a personal question?”

“Of course.”

“You left your wife because she was having an affair.”

Bernd stiffened, but he answered: “That’s right.”

“How did you find out?”

Bernd winced, as if at a sudden pain.

“Do you mind me asking?” Rebecca said anxiously. “Is it too personal?”

“I don’t mind telling you,” he said. “I confronted her, and she admitted it.”

“But what made you suspicious?”

“A lot of little things—”

Rebecca interrupted him. “The phone rings, you pick it up, there’s a silence for a few seconds, then the person at the other end hangs up.”

He nodded.

She went on: “Your spouse tears a note up small and flushes the shreds down the toilet. At the weekend he’s called to an unexpected meeting. In the evening he spends two hours writing something he won’t show you.”

“Oh, dear,” said Bernd sadly. “You’re talking about Hans.”

“He’s got a lover, hasn’t he?” She put down her sandwich: she had no appetite. “Tell me honestly what you think.”

“I’m so sorry.”

Bernd had kissed her once, four months ago, on the last day of the autumn term. They had been saying good-bye, and wishing one another a happy Christmas, and he had lightly grasped her arm, and bent his head, and kissed her lips. She had asked him not to do it again, ever, and said she would still like to be his friend; and when they had returned to school in January both had pretended it had never happened. He had even told her, a few weeks later, that he had a date with a widow his own age.

Rebecca did not want to encourage hopeless aspirations, but Bernd was the only person she could talk to, except for her family, and she did not want to worry them, not yet. “I was so sure that Hans loved me,” she said, and tears came to her eyes. “And I love him.”

“Perhaps he does love you. Some men just can’t resist temptation.”

Rebecca did not know whether Hans found their sex life satisfactory. He never complained, but they made love only about once a week, which she believed to be infrequent for newlyweds. “All I want is a family of my own, just like my mother’s, in which everyone is loved and supported and protected,” she said. “I thought I could have that with Hans.”

“Perhaps you still can,” said Bernd. “An affair isn’t necessarily the end of the marriage.”

“In the first year?”

“It’s bad, I agree.”