A bored seventeen-year-old in the ticket booth took our money and hunted around for a pen. ‘Machine’s not working. Got to write out your tickets,’ she mumbled. Inside the crowded auditorium we found it was so hot with all the bodies that the condensation was running down the walls. A couple of Soviet guest soldiers entered behind us with their British girlfriends. They went to the best seats in the house, and the four occupants of those seats got up and moved. I didn’t blame those girls, really. The Russians could get them extra coupons and into the Lyons Corner Houses. Our empire was over; theirs was just beginning.

The seats were covered with what had clearly once been velvet but had since been rubbed almost bare – not unlike the movie, which was also showing the ravages of time, its images old and scratched. And yet Lorelei still shone in it like the sun. Oh, they could rip her from the posters, but they could hardly cut her from the film. She mourned her executed boyfriend like Shakespeare’s Juliet, and then raised a pistol to a Nazi officer. He fell and she showed no emotion. Our heroine. Our past and our future.

When the crowds on the screen cheered the Archangel steaming up the Thames, it occurred to me that these people just didn’t know what they were letting themselves in for: the suspicions and doubts, the simple hardships of everyday life. I could feel the same thought flitting around the room too, and, as if to make the point, there was a brief power cut soon after. It came just as Lorelei began her speech about the coming dawn, the day when we would all live and build together. We had to wait in the dark for the picture to return, so I took the opportunity to slip out to the wooden call box in the lobby, telling Hazel I was going to the ladies’ room. This time, the line connected.

‘Tibbot,’ he mumbled.

I was overjoyed to hear he was there. I began to blurt out everything without even saying hello. ‘I know what was wrong when she died. I’ve realized now,’ I said.

‘What?’

‘According to Grest, when I went into the bathroom, Lorelei said to me, “Who’s there? I can’t see.” But why? The lamp was on; it wasn’t dark.’

‘So the steam –’

‘There wasn’t any steam. The room was clear. But what if she meant exactly what she said – that she couldn’t see. Her sight had gone.’

There was silence on the other end. He was contemplating it. ‘It could be,’ he said, but his voice was guarded. ‘I can’t tell why, though.’

‘Could Grest have done that to her?’

‘Well, if you beat someone badly enough they can lose their sight. But that would have left huge bruises, fractures probably. There weren’t any.’