Helen gave her friend a sharp look. “I love my work.”

Arianne took a sip from her water bottle. “I understand that, but it wouldn’t be such a bad idea for one of you to take your foot off the gas a little.”

“And why should I be the one?”

“Well, it would be trickier for Werner, what with all the people working for him and all the things he’s responsible for.”

Helen raised her eyebrows. “Since when are financial responsibilities more important than the responsibility for somebody’s life? If I don’t do my work properly, people might die.”

“Jeez, Helen, don’t be so dramatic. You get what I mean.”

“No—I don’t get it at all, actually, especially not coming from you.”

Arianne refused to take the bait. “It’s just—it’d be easier for you to reduce your hours than it would be for him. That way you could still enjoy your work and also have more time for yourself. For the whole family.” She raised her hands in a gesture of submission. “And for your friends, of course.”

Helen regarded her in silence.

Arianne shook her head. “Oh, forget it. You’re taking it all far too seriously. I just miss you, that’s all. We used to have so much fun, the four of us. Man, I always used to ache the following day from laughing so much.”

“Those times will come again,” Helen heard herself say. “I mean it. But I have to go now. Werner is waiting for me.”

“On a Friday night? That’s new.”

“We’re going to the movies. His idea.”

“Well, I never. When was the last time that happened?”

“About a thousand years ago.”

11

11

Ralf could scarcely keep up with Brian. He was almost running. They’d walked down the side of the yard and scaled the wall, avoiding the loose soil in the flower beds and stepping on paving slabs, lawn borders, and wood chips so as not to leave any tracks.

At the deck, Brian held out his arm to stop Ralf. They peered through the foliage at the back of the house. All the lights inside were on. Through the window, they could see an open-plan kitchen with an island and a large wooden table with leather chairs. There was a broad, open staircase in the corner. The kitchen was as big as the entire ground floor of Ralf’s parents’ place. A man was sitting at the table, making a phone call. He was slim, with a blue polo shirt and slightly wavy hair, and looked very youthful for somebody old enough to be Ralf’s father. A little preppy too—not exactly a man who would offer resistance to an armed and masked intruder. Nonetheless, Ralf’s heart skipped a beat at the thought of Brian’s going inside.