There remained, and perhaps always would, no-go areas in Howard’s relationship with his son. But the same went for Karin and her kids. When Magda and Rudy returned from spending time in Berlin with their father and one or the other seemed tetchy, or subdued, she held her tongue.

Howard sometimes marvelled at her being the down-to-earth person she was; that despite her background her priorities were the same as his; that she didn’t want servants to wait on her, or a chauffeur to drive her around, but was content with the life they now shared.

He followed her into the live-in kitchen that epitomized their lifestyle. Though this house was a wedding gift from her parents, its atmosphere was of the real world, poles apart from the home in which she had grown up.

Somehow Karin managed to cope with the twin demands of domesticity and her career. She had not wanted resident help and like Laura employed a daily housekeeper. But she was now carrying Howard’s child. This evening her ankles looked puffy. And he had not yet voiced his anxiety about the frequent commuting between here and Berlin that their living in Munich necessitated. Though she had cut down on her business trips elsewhere, delegating some of them to her personal assistant, there were still times when she flew to wherever at a minute’s notice.

Howard, on the other hand, was anchored to a desk in Munich and marvelled too at how easily he had adapted to dealing with the paperwork for transactions involving goods he never saw.

‘Where there’s a will there’s a way,’ had proved true for Howard in all respects. He had got himself back into his son’s life and Ben was here on a weekday, to prove it, an event that despite the lad’s troubled demeanour could not but gladden Howard’s heart. I’m no longer just the father who brings him here on a Sunday morning and takes him home in the evening. He’s come to me.

‘Something smells good!’ he said to Karin with a surge of exuberance. ‘What’s Rudy missing by eating at his friend’s house tonight?’

She was adding salt to a pan of soup, and Magda laying cutlery on the red and white checked tablecloth that lent colour to the dining alcove – one of Karin’s homely touches that Howard still found surprising.

‘If I tell to you what is for supper it will not then be a surprise,’ Karin said with a smile, ‘and it is I who have cooked it, since I arrived home early. What Frau Schwartz has made for us I have put into the deep freeze.’

Karin paused to taste the soup. ‘Ben, he has had his supper, but I am hoping he will join us for dessert.’

‘If we’re having ice cream, I’m sure he will,’ said Howard.

‘How did you guess?’ said Karin.