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Back The Hiding Game
Chapters (64)
  1. Cover
  2. Naomi Wood
  3. Dedication page
  4. Epigraph page
  5. 1
  6. WEIMAR, 1922
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. 14
  20. 15
  21. 16
  22. 17
  23. 18
  24. 19
  25. 20
  26. 21
  27. 22
  28. 23
  29. DESSAU, 1929
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. 32
  39. 33
  40. 34
  41. 35
  42. 36
  43. 37
  44. BERLIN, 1932
  45. 38
  46. 39
  47. 40
  48. 41
  49. 42
  50. 43
  51. 44
  52. 45
  53. 46
  54. 47
  55. 48
  56. 49
  57. 50
  58. 51
  59. 52
  60. 53
  61. Thank you
  62. Praise
  63. The Hiding Game
  64. Also by Naomi Wood

I wondered what it was I should do. I could follow the Steiners – if that’s what they were – home after their drinks, or follow Ernst to wherever he went next, and hope it would lead me to Walter. But I had no idea what I’d say to my old friend should I find him. Maybe he’d ask my forgiveness. Maybe he’d beg me for my friendship. But really, I hoped he’d say: Follow her. Search her bag. He’d say: Go to the Bauhaus. You’re right to be worried. I knew he’d say all this. Unlike Irmi, Walter was the kind of person who would give me permission to think all these things.

‘Thanks, Irmi. I know I don’t deserve it.’

She shook her head. ‘It’s nothing.’

A porter squeezed past and we stood awkwardly outside the kitchen basement. Irmi wore the same expression I’d seen at her flat. ‘You’re a nuisance, Paul. You know all this time I couldn’t ever get rid of the thought of you. Not when we were in Weimar, not even when you were in Dessau. When you wrote and said you wanted to live with me – well, I thought, this is the beginning. We are on our way. Then silence. Nothing for months. I thought: he’s busy, he has other matters to sort before leaving. Then in October you turned up, and instead of moving in with me, you got me to find an apartment for you and Charlotte.’

I wanted to say sorry but she put up her hand to stop me.

‘And now you talk to me about her and Jenö and honestly, I can’t . . . You can’t talk to me any more about all that stuff. I have run out of patience. I have run out of advice. Please spare me. Spare me any more of these stories.’

She was right: I had taken advantage of her generosity, her ability to forgive. Before I had a chance to apologise she pulled out a folded cheque from her apron: on the front, Ernst’s signature for an expensive bottle of champagne; on the back, his address: Savignyplatz, no. 14, Charlottenburg.

‘Irmi.’

‘Just say thank you.’

‘But I would never have asked you to do that. Thank you, of course; a thousand times. Are you sure no one saw you do it?’

‘It’s a gift. But that’s it. I’m finished. If you do find Walter, don’t tell me. What he did to Charlotte was reprehensible, but it was a long time ago, and I’m not interested in getting involved in any more games. Agreed?’

‘Yes.’ I memorised the address and returned the cheque. ‘It was never my intention to hurt you. I’m sorry if I upset you.’

‘I’m happy,’ Irmi said. ‘But seeing you makes me unhappy.’

‘Will you see Teddy later?’