‘Good, that’s good,’ said Charlotte. ‘It was a bad idea: the fast, and all that. Master Itten’s in trouble now too. The Director wants things to be straightforward. He can’t stand a scandal.’

She disappeared into the kitchen, and Jenö and I didn’t really look at each other, and we certainly didn’t talk to each other. In fact, he closed his eyes, and I was left standing at the door, doing nothing. When Charlotte came back her skin looked rinsed and her eyes more fierce. She massaged her scalp; I could see the skin move under the stubble. ‘Your job at the studio. Do they need help?’

‘I don’t think Mr Steiner accepts women.’

‘Not for me. For Walter. He’s going to need the money.’

‘Oh, he already asked me. We’re going tomorrow night.’

‘Oh, good,’ she said.

‘What happened to your objections?’

‘Needs must,’ she said, smiling.

I looked at Jenö, who still had his eyes closed. I realised then he’d dropped off to sleep.

Charlotte laughed. ‘Have you ever seen anything so ridiculous?’

Wake him up? Tow him out? I couldn’t think what else to do; I would have to leave him here. ‘I miss you,’ I ventured. ‘I haven’t seen you all week. It’s not your fault Jenö lost his temper.’

‘I just don’t want either of them to go. And I feel responsible. If I hadn’t suggested the fast—’

‘He wouldn’t have fainted. I know. You’re not still fasting, are you? With all this going on,’ I said, thinking if I used Kaspar’s words she might believe me, ‘it might not be a good idea.’

‘Oh no. I ate the most enormous sandwich for lunch.’ She gave a cheery laugh, which convinced me she was being sincere.

‘You’re thinking Sommer might want compensation? That’s why Walter needs a shift at the studio?’

‘That’s the best-case scenario.’

‘The other?’

‘That they might go, Paul. It’s serious,’ she said, her tone changing again. She looked at sleeping Jenö. ‘Don’t you see? All week it’s as if you haven’t really cared.’

‘I do, Charlotte, how can you say that? I’m taking Walter to the studio tomorrow. I’ll lend him a suit. I’ll help how I can.’

‘That’s not it. You’ve been disengaged.’

I wanted to say to her: I’m not disengaged, I’m wary; that everything felt embroidered; that everything felt like a fiction. And I suppose I too had my part to play. ‘The last thing in the world I want is for Jenö to go.’

‘Well, act like it, then. Pretend you care.’

‘You’ve hardly been around to know I do care.’

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, puffing her cheeks. ‘I just want it over.’

‘The curfew’s lonely.’

‘Oh, Paul, it’s only been a few nights.’