‘I only do people. Their faces. I can’t do hands either.’

Martha leaned back in her chair. ‘Well, you can do faces then. Did you bring any of your paintings with you?’

‘Yes, I brought some. The others I left in the stockroom of a shop. Herr Thaller’s shop. Where I used to work.’

‘Show me your faces when we next meet, then. My father, when he was a young man – between your age and mine – worked in an English county asylum, a terrible place full of misery and filth. One of the things he did was to take photographs of the patients. It was an expensive process in those days and he used to sit up half the night in his darkroom. But when the prints were made, he used to show them to the patients, and they’d talk about them together. He said it helped them to see that they had a true existence outside the chaos of their own minds. That they could be seen and valued by others. They lived, they existed in the same world – in the same way – as anyone else.’

‘Did it make them better? Seeing their pictures?’

‘Who knows? It may have helped. The work we do is often about tiny differences. The one flake that makes the snowball roll downhill.’

The maid came back to remove the tray.

‘I think I’d better get ready for my next appointment,’ said Martha.

‘Are you a doctor?’ said Lena.

‘No. To be a doctor, you have to pass medical exams, like Dr Bernthaler or Dr Andritsch. I trained to be a therapist. In many strange places with many strange people … Anyway, I talk to people and try to help them. But I don’t write out prescriptions. I’m not allowed to.’

‘But are you in charge of the house?’

‘In a way, yes. The doctors are in charge of the patients. Frau Eckert – Daisy – runs the housekeeping. Then there is a matron for the nursing staff. I look after what we call the talking cures. We have two other therapists who come in every day. And I keep an eye on the place as a whole. It’s quite a job. My aunt Sonia used to do it, my father’s sister.’

‘You must be busy all the time.’

‘Yes, but I like that.’

Lena was reluctant to go.

‘So, I’ll bring you some pictures tomorrow, shall I?’ she said.

‘Yes. Daisy will introduce you to the other people. There are a couple of your age. Johanna and another girl. And you should meet Mary, who does the massage.’

‘How will I know where to find you?’

‘Here. This is my room. It used to be my father’s. I’m always here, but if there’s a wooden notice hanging from the doorknob you mustn’t come in. It means I’m with a patient.’

‘What does the notice say?’

‘It says “Occupied”. You … you can read, can’t you?’

‘Of course I can,’ said Lena.