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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

‘“Be firm in your enthusiasm but not overly passionate,”’ Kaspar continued. ‘“Do not be threatening in your affection. Women can feel menaced by what you may perceive as light flirtation.” Good grief. When was this written?’ He flipped the book and looked for a date. ‘Am I a menace? I always thought they wanted me to carry on. At least I thought they did.’

‘You’re more a mouse than a menace,’ said Irmi. ‘Ask Paul what to say.’

‘How would I know?’

‘I can’t remember when you were with the same woman twice on your little coffee trips.’

‘They keep on offering to pay,’ I said, though I knew the excuse was laughable. ‘That’s the only reason I accept.’

‘Even with your studio fortune?’ Charlotte asked.

I blushed. Charlotte often made jibes about my job. Sometimes it was comic; at other times she was earnest, saying as long as I was there, I’d never be here. In some part, I knew she was right, but the fee was too good, and the rebuttal to my father’s financing too satisfying.

‘God, I’m hungry,’ Kaspar said, shoving the book away.

‘Don’t you feel better? More alive?’ Charlotte asked.

‘No,’ he said, ‘my stomach hurts.’

‘I had a moment yesterday when I saw a blackbird with a yellow beak,’ she said. ‘In the cemetery by the Russian church. I couldn’t keep my eyes off it. All day I’d been wobbling around, wondering what was the point, just like you, but then for ten minutes the bird held my attention and nothing else. It was transfixing: I was watching an opera. It felt like hours, and all that time there were so many images inside my head: what if I had the bird’s wings? Or what would happen if I crushed its small bones in my hand?’ She cast her eye at Kaspar. ‘Really, it was a joy. Such visions wouldn’t have happened on a stomach full of food.’

‘You sound,’ said Kaspar, ‘as mad as the Master.’

Jenö dropped the sketchbook and went to the kitchen. Walter looked at the drawing then shot me an alarmed look. ‘Handsome Pauli,’ Walter said. ‘You’d have looked wonderful in uniform.’

I turned the sketch the right way up. Jenö had made my expression look sour. How strange that he should portray me like that. I bore no ill will to any of them; certainly not to Charlotte, who had been speaking the longest, and whom I had been looking at – I would have guessed – for the duration of her speech about the blackbird.

7

Weimar