Martha breathed in deeply. ‘I think your mother used to drink a lot of alcohol, didn’t she? It was before my time, but that’s what I was told.’

‘She drank schnapps.’

‘Why do you drink wine in your room?’

‘It helps me sleep. I don’t know. I …’

Martha turned in her chair and looked out of the window. Lena was motionless as she watched.

‘There are two things here, Lena,’ said Martha, turning back. ‘You know you shouldn’t take things that are not yours and—’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘And there’s the question of why you can’t sleep. Is something troubling you?’

‘It wasn’t, no. Not until now, when you called me in. Until then I was feeling happy.’

‘And before?’

Raising her eyes from the floor, Lena said, ‘There are so many things. My life …’

She sensed that Martha was not going to tell her to leave, that her job was safe, but she wasn’t sure how much to confide.

Standing up and walking round the desk, Martha said, ‘What we’re going to do is this. I’m going to fine you a week’s wages. Then we can consider that matter dealt with. We won’t need to talk about it again. But we should probably try to find a way to make you sleep. To make you easier in your mind. If necessary, I can get one of the doctors to prescribe something.’

‘I wouldn’t want that. I like wine.’

‘Why?’

‘It makes my edges seem to disappear. And I think it reminds me of my mother.’

‘Well,’ said Martha. ‘It’s possible that you’ve inherited a weakness. We don’t really know how these things work. It seems to run in families, but it might just be that people who drink too much tend to live poor lives and then their children do as well. So it’s their best escape.’

‘I don’t think my father drank too much.’

‘Who was your father?’

‘I think he was a fisherman. In Trieste.’

‘But you don’t know?’

‘Not for sure. But … Yes, I am sure.’

Martha was still standing next to her. Lena could feel the warmth of her attention and it gave her a moment of confidence.

‘Fräulein, you don’t know about me …’

‘It’s all right, Lena.’

‘You don’t know who I really am.’

‘No one knows who they really are. No one who comes into this room.’

Lena looked up and saw Martha’s eyes steady on her face.

‘I’ve done things. In Vienna … And …’ The words stopped in her throat. She had wanted to unburden herself, but was now afraid.

‘Take your time.’

‘Not just with wine, but with drugs … And with men … And …’

The words stopped again. Martha waited for her to carry on, but Lena said nothing.

Eventually, Martha said, ‘We all have secrets. There is a place in the human animal where shame and joy are … very close together.’

‘What?’

‘For instance, I’m an aunt. I’m telling you this in confidence, though I expect most people know already. Charlotte has a three-year-old daughter. In London. The result of an affair with a married man.’