Her smell in the morning was always a little rank. ‘You need to have a wash.’ I nudged her away and she laughed.

‘I’m going to the Bauhaus later,’ she said. ‘I hope that’s all right?’

‘It’s fine,’ I said. The boy disappeared around the corner. ‘Were you serious, Charlotte, about having a child?’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘If you are. It would be quite fun, wouldn’t it? A mix of me and you. Imagine. A little baby. Ours forever.’

‘Let’s do it. Let’s do it soon,’ I said, as if to say, and not this, not the other thing. Then I closed my hand into a fist. ‘Let’s play. One last time. For old times’ sake.’

‘You don’t have anything in there.’

‘I do. This time it’s an abstraction.’

‘But it has to be here. Materially here,’ she said, and I wondered that she had remembered those words from the River Ilm. ‘That’s the rules of the hiding game.’

‘You’re the sleeper,’ I said.

‘Give me the clues, at least,’ she said, with closed eyes, then opened them once more: ‘Unless it’s just hot air.’

‘All right. Let’s see. Berlin. Family. Impossible-impendingwealth.’

‘Too many words!’

‘The last one was a compound noun.’

‘Is it our life?’

‘Not quite.’ I opened up my fist. ‘Our future.’

‘Impossible wealth!’ she said, kissing me, laughing. ‘What a notion!’

Charlotte went to find her clothes. Maybe it was not so impossible; such wealth. Now that she could use the Bauhaus looms, Charlotte could sell her weaves. Maybe she’d even be able to patent a design, invent fabrics with industrial application, just like she had done with her soundproofing. What had Jenö said, about Otti setting up an adjunct company, one over which she had control? And I could see if Josef needed an assistant. After all, Jenö would soon be gone.

I sat on the bed, wondering what to say next. ‘Kaspar asked if we wanted to go skating,’ I said, making something up. We would need to kill time until Jenö’s flight.

‘Sounds nice. And Irmi too?’

‘Irmi’s not really speaking to me.’

‘Oh.’ Charlotte didn’t ask why. ‘But she loves skating. She always does it with a frown. Very serious, as if she’s Field Marshal von Hindenburg with skates on. You won’t see Walter again, will you?’

‘No.’

‘Because Irmi’s not the only one who’s been in love with you.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘Oh, come on. Walter’s always been half in love with you.’

‘Nonsense. It’s only ever been Jenö for him.’