From where they were sitting they had an uninterrupted view of the vast lawn rolling down to the river. The game of tag was still going on, though now it wasn’t only the girls who were playing it. Berthold had abandoned being a spectator to Max and Hugo’s game of chess and, jacketless, was chasing Nancy in order to tag her, while Ilse, Lotti and Hester shrieked in delight at his involvement in their game. He watched the happy scene for a few minutes and then said stubbornly, ‘And Claus and Lotti and Ilse? They are just as much your grandchildren as I am. I’d be far more comfortable if we were all treated equally.’

‘Would you, indeed? Well, my boy, you’re just going to have live uncomfortable, because I’m not going to do so. I’m going to leave the bulk of my wealth to the only grandchild I have who is an American—and who I happen to know is proud of being an American.’

He rose to his feet. ‘And if you don’t like the arrangement,’ he said in a voice that indicated the subject was now very definitely at an end, ‘I’ll leave every damned dollar and cent to the New York City Dogs’ Home!’

When Paul was twelve, Vicky had decided he was old enough to join her and her father every evening for dinner, even when guests were also dining. It was an arrangement she applied to Max and Hugo and one they were now well accustomed to. Claus, who had never in his life dined in the evening with his parents, was pink with nerves at the prospect of doing so with his American grandfather.

‘Can I sit next to you, Paul?’ he asked as they entered the dining room.

Paul slid an arm reassuringly around his young half-brother’s shoulders. ‘Of course you can, but I expect Grandfather will ask you to sit next to him as well. He’ll be wanting to take every opportunity to get to know you better.’

‘But I find it so strange having an American grandfather,’ Claus whispered as everyone began taking their seats. ‘And English and American etiquette is so different to etiquette in Berlin.’

‘It’s certainly more informal,’ Paul agreed, knowing that in the mansion on Unter den Linden the kind of family chatter now taking place at the table—Max and Hugo discussing their game of chess, their great-uncle chuckling at something their grandfather had said, Vicky teasing Berthold about his joint-carving abilities—would never be allowed.

‘Sit next to me, Claus,’ Charles boomed. ‘I want to know all about your schoolwork and I want to know how much you know about American history. Are you familiar with the name of Thomas Jefferson?’

‘He wrote the Declaration of Independence, Grandfather,’ Claus said, deeply grateful for the way Paul had primed him as to the kind of questions his grandfather was likely to ask.

Charles made a sound of satisfaction.

Vicky turned her attention away from her husband, saying to her uncle, ‘Has Claus told you he came first in the Berlin under-fourteen ski championships? It’s a brilliant achievement. Isn’t it wonderful he’s such a good athlete, as well as such a good scholar?’