One fine April afternoon, Ulli returned from his lunch break to find a proof and two photostats in a brown-paper package on his desk. He had been walking by the Rhine, eating his sandwiches, feeding some of them to the ducks and swans, and enjoying the spring sunshine. He opened the parcel and ran a fingertip across the freshly printed staves. This was the culmination of a process so involved, so detailed, so potentially incendiary – should the fact of Hindemith’s involvement be revealed, or should the piece’s revision displease ‘them’ – that he could scarcely believe it had come to fruition at all. Strecker, though, knew what he was doing; he chose the best man for the job and had enough confidence to take the risk. He was also helping to support Hindemith, a dear friend and client for whom times were difficult and growing worse. At last, there it was: the piano reduction with violin part, spread out in front of Ulli, waiting for him to check, correct and place his tick of agreement before the Streckers gave the sign-off.

Hindemith – who had had to put his signature to a statement distancing himself from anything Jewish or left-wing – had done his job well enough, Ulli judged. The changes seemed reasonably respectful of Schumann. That pleased him, though the danger remained that it might not please Goebbels or the audience quite so much. Besides Hindemith, they had drafted in a local string quartet leader, Gustav Lenzewski, in nearby Frankfurt, to help with the violinistic editing. Kulenkampff was working separately on his own violin part.

The photostats were precious indeed, for the agreement with the ministry stipulated that the printed score must be embargoed until the day of the premiere. Now Willy Strecker had asked Ulli to write two letters to accompany them. One would go to Jelly in England; the other to California for Yehudi Menuhin. Jelly could make a start. Menuhin could make a decision.

‘I worry about Miss d’Arányi… ’ Ulli faltered.

‘She will have it for Britain.’

‘We promised her.’

‘And we are keeping our promise. But we are looking ahead as well, no? Jelly d’Arányi’s best days are behind her. Yehudi’s are still to come, and soon.’

That, Ulli acknowledged silently, was part of the problem. ‘The thing is, Miss d’Arányi – ’

Willy gave him a wink. ‘I should never have let you go to London that time. You’ve not been the same since. I hope you realise that that woman is the most famous flirt in the music world. She has been bewitching every man who crosses her path for more than 20 years. Ah well, perhaps it’ll do you good. Now, if you please, the letters… Then bring them to me.’

Ulli, puzzled, followed his boss’s instructions. ‘Don’t you want me to post them?’