He looked up, searching her face. You’re so transparent, she thought. You’ll make up anything. He was a fantasist, unbalanced.

‘Don’t lie,’ she said.

He reached for his cigarettes, offered the pack to her.

‘No thanks.’ Who needed cigarettes now? Buying time again. She wouldn’t make it easy for him.

‘Not long after I arrived in Berlin,’ he said. ‘My sergeant got his demob papers. We went to celebrate, in the Kurfürstendamm. Some of the bars had re-opened in the cellars and Arthur and I went to one, the Blaue Engel.’

She could feel her teeth grinding, jaws clammed tight.

‘We drank champagne.’ He looked at her, as if to apologise. ‘It was so cheap. A criminal luxury, really, when all around us was shattered and people starved.’ He took a drag on his cigarette. ‘Let alone those poor so-and-sos in the camps. And all those murdered.’ He shuddered, paused. ‘I don’t think there’d ever been a war like this one. Looking back, I don’t know how we could have drunk it, but the likes of Arthur had been fighting for years. I guess they thought they deserved it.’

‘Spare me your sensibilities,’ she said. ‘Your justifications.’

He stubbed out his cigarette, took another from the pack. He’s nervous.

‘Perhaps we’d had too much, I don’t know. But all of a sudden a young woman appeared. My sergeant thought she might be on the game, you know? He told her to go away.’ John batted his hand, as if he was reliving the scene. ‘But she sat down and pulled out this clock from her bag.’ He reached over, ran his hand around its circular rim. ‘I was taken with it.’ He looked up at Betty. ‘I was taken with her, too. She was so pretty, sitting there. So neat. Innocent, or so I thought.’

‘Why do you say that?’

He fidgeted in his chair. ‘No reason,’ he said. ‘I shouldn’t have said it.’

‘But you did.’

‘I’m sorry.’ He paused. ‘I’ll come to that. Will you hear me out?’

‘Go on.’

‘I bought it. Five cigarettes. Simple as that.’

‘Simple?’ she said. ‘Everything has a story. Everyone has a story. Did you ask her?’

John picked up the teapot, took it into the kitchen. ‘Would you like a top-up?’

She didn’t answer, waited while he poured on more hot water, came back.

‘Did you?’

‘I planned to,’ he said. ‘I planned to ask her. I wanted to see her again, so suggested she gave me German lessons. She agreed, and we met at the Brandenburg Gate, walked in the Tiergarten.’ He stirred the tea, poured himself another cup. ‘But our conversation was awkward, until we started singing. Sounds silly, but there’s German songs and English songs that are the same. We shared a birthday and—’

‘Wait,’ Betty said, holding up a hand. ‘Tell me. When was her birthday?’