‘What?’ said Lena.

‘Yes. He’s called Stefan, as I told you. He comes from Villach. He’s a sailor. On the sea. Who did you think your father was?’

‘I … I thought he was dead.’

‘Did you?’ Carina seemed surprised. ‘Stefan lives in Trieste. We’re going to take a train. When school stops for the winter holiday. I don’t think he’ll be at sea then because the weather’s too bad. We’ll visit him at home.’

‘But how will you know how to find it?’

‘I’ve been there before. I remember the name of the street and someone’ll help us.’

Lena wanted to believe her. But the way Carina tossed her head and looked away, as though she was already thinking about something else, made Lena anxious.

‘Why didn’t you tell me before?’

‘The time wasn’t right.’

‘Does he know we’re coming?’

‘No. He doesn’t even know that you exist.’

‘How can that be?’

Carina sighed. ‘One day … I had been in a bar near the railway station for a long time. And I was so … tired. I saw a carriage that looked comfortable and I went through the fence and sat in it. And I fell asleep. It’s a long story.’

‘But you met my father?’

‘Yes. In Trieste. He … rescued me. I didn’t know where I was. He let me stay with him.’

That night on her bed in the corner of the room, Lena tried to imagine what this man looked like. There was a picture of a sailor in one of her books, standing on a deck with a knife between his teeth. He wouldn’t be like that. She knew the men who worked on the river and they were sailors of a kind, but they didn’t go to sea. She turned on her side. It didn’t matter what he looked like because she already felt something towards him that was different from any feeling that she’d had before.

They went to the railway station in the best clothes they had and were told there was a train for Trieste in an hour. Lena had a boiled wool jacket in crimson with silver-coloured buttons that a river pilot had given her. Carina carried a canvas bag with some rye bread and smoked sausage and a few spare clothes in case they stayed. The third-class compartment of the train had wooden seats and dusty floors with cigarette ends and old newspapers.

Lena sat with her hands folded in her lap, opposite her mother. She was too excited to speak and was afraid that if she did say anything Carina would tell her to be quiet. She wondered why her father hadn’t stayed with Carina – married her, like the fathers of the children at school. She couldn’t help feeling that her mother had failed to appreciate him properly. She wouldn’t make that mistake herself. Whatever he turned out to be like, old or young, with a beard, or with reading glasses like Herr Kaufmann, she wouldn’t let him escape.