On Sunday we waited for Kaspar and Irmi at the ice rink. By now I was convinced that this was the end. That she’d tell me, as we skated, in her wine-red jacket against the ice, that it was time for her to go.

Charlotte stared at the skaters with spacey horror. Under her eyes the skin was dark and sallow. ‘It’s getting bad.’ She gestured to the muffled people skating fast upon the ice. ‘Klee’s gone to Switzerland. The Director, Kandinsky, the Alberses; all everyone talks about is where they’ll end up. Someone asked me where I was going and I didn’t know what to say!’ She smiled tightly. ‘I just said Kreuzberg. What a thing. What will Kreuzberg do for us?’

Scrape, scrape, the boots slashing the ice; people wheeling round and round; and the light – from the ice, the snow, the clouds – made it appear like that ceramic menagerie, animated at last.

A woman leapt; turned. Another fell. Kids flew past.

‘It’s your decision.’

‘It’s ours,’ she said. ‘A few months. Then you’d follow.’

‘What about this being part of Walter’s strategy?’

‘Jenö said he can be trusted.’

Jenö’s words ball in my mind; rip, are gone.

‘Go with him, then. Go. Please.’ I pushed her away. I couldn’t stand to be near her any more. ‘It’s your choice. Please don’t pretend it is mine.’

Tears fell rapidly. People watched us. They were watching this man crying, they had seen how I had held this man’s hand. There were even boys daring to laugh.

‘I’m scared! I don’t know what to do!’

‘Give me six months,’ I said, talking fast, knowing if I slowed down my guilt would show itself in all its ugliness. ‘I promise. Six months and we’ll be gone from here together.’

‘Hallo!’ a voice blasted from the crowd. I had never been happier to see Kaspar. He studied us both. ‘Why all the glum faces?’ he said, then sotto voce: ‘Is Adolf himself doing the rounds?’

She gave him a smile but it changed quickly to another sob.

Kaspar took her in his arms. ‘Charlotte, Charlotte. Please, don’t worry. Are we on Jenö’s suggestion again?’ Very softly he said, ‘It’s nothing. It’s nothing. What did I tell you at the theatre? We’ll be fine, I promise.’

Charlotte shook her head, as if to let the air in.

‘In the sea hast thou lived in solitude, and it hath borne thee up. Alas, wilt thou now go ashore?’

Charlotte pulled away. ‘Zarathustra?’

‘What else?’

She took a deep breath. ‘I don’t know what that’s got to do with anything.’

‘Well, neither do I,’ said Kaspar, grinning.

The world would turn; Kaspar would quote Nietzsche; Charlotte would stay. As the old song went, as long as there were linden trees, Berlin would be Berlin.