‘I read something about that. Herr Dollfuss had cancelled the Parliament.’

‘It’s a rather magnificent place, isn’t it?’ said Rudolf after a pause.

‘The Schloss?’

‘It looks like an old college with lecture halls. Or a hotel in a medieval spa town, but with a country house attached. They’ve given me a room in what they call Clock Court. Do you know if that’s nice?’

‘It’s the best. Are you staying?’

‘Just for a few days. It’s easier to stay than go back and forth.’

Trying not to look at Rudolf, Lena began to tell him how the Schloss worked, how the patients were divided and housed, how the staff were organised and who did what. He hadn’t asked, but she thought it better to give him facts and figures than to risk answering questions about herself.

‘I see,’ said Rudolf, when she had come to a halt. ‘So that all makes sense.’ He paused. ‘And tell me, do you—’

‘Are you still living in Vienna?’

‘Yes. Most of my work is there.’

‘Of course.’

‘But I wanted to come. When the chance came up. I said yes, not just for the work.’

‘What else?’

‘I wanted to see you again.’

Lena felt his eyes on her. Eventually, she said, ‘You could always have written to me. It wouldn’t have been hard to find out where I was.’

‘It wasn’t. I asked at Herr Thaller’s shop. His son’s shop now.’

‘So why didn’t you write?’

‘I thought you were angry with me.’

‘Why on earth did you think that?’

‘I was … confused.’

‘You were confused! When you met me I was fifteen years old.’

‘I remember! In the hospital laundry. With a rash on your hands.’

‘I was a child.’

‘I kept my distance.’

Lena looked away. Distance had been part of the problem.

Rudolf cleared his throat. ‘I wanted to be kind to you. I thought perhaps you’d had a difficult start in life. Your mother was … And your father … But I didn’t want to presume. So I tried to help. The art lessons. The job in Vienna.’

‘That was kind.’ Lena’s voice was quiet.

Rudolf stood up and walked round the bench, as though in some physical discomfort.

‘Look, Lena,’ he said. ‘I want to be honest with you. I feel I behaved badly. I can’t quite explain why. Or how. But …’

‘It doesn’t matter. It was a long time ago. I’m happy now.’

‘But are you? Working here? As a cleaner in a madhouse?’

There were many things Lena could have said in reply. The unexpected humour of some patients; Johanna and Martha; the secret wine that made her sleep … But all she could think of at that moment was the banknotes left on her chest of drawers in Vienna and the clatter of men’s feet going downstairs. Without Rudolf she would not have known those things.

‘Well?’ said Rudolf.

Lena stared up at the leaves in the tree. ‘It’s nice to see you,’ she said. ‘But I don’t know what you want.’