‘A hundred thousand marks a week, every week for eight weeks,’ Walter said, holding court at the bar – although Mr Sommer, too poor or too stupid, had not demanded the payments go up with inflation. ‘In a month or so,’ Walter said, ‘he’ll be wishing he’d asked for a bag of marbles instead.’

Everyone laughed, and I looked at Irmi. She was inspecting the shabby carpet. I knew we were both thinking of Mr Sommer’s age. He’s ancient, Paul, ancient. I don’t know why Walter had to crow so cruelly, especially given they’d won.

‘It’s Germany’s new Bath-house Plan!’ he announced, and he said it in English as if he were David Lloyd George himself.

Even in Jenö’s rolling walk you could tell the manner of his mood. ‘Everything’s fine!’ he announced as he came into the Swan and Irmi let out a noise which was like a celebration. Jenö shook our hands, Walter’s and mine, and then took Charlotte into his arms and I heard him whisper, ‘Thank you,’ in her ear.

I was pleased that Walter and even Jenö could stay, but it was in Charlotte that the happiness was truly expansive. ‘Isn’t it a relief! It’s such good news! Jenö can stay!’

‘You never needed to feel so bad about the fast,’ I said. ‘It wasn’t your fault.’

Jenö’s features were animated. ‘Like that,’ he made a big gesture: ‘swept under the rug.’

We clinked our glasses, and I watched Walter finish his drink as if he hadn’t had three beers earlier.

‘Everything’s back to how it’s always been,’ Jenö said, and his expression, I thought, was the opposite to what I’d seen at the baker’s last weekend: today he was a soul sprung free.

The six of us stood awkwardly. We hadn’t been together since the cafeteria. I felt quite gone, drinking as I had been on an empty stomach, and had to remind myself to keep step with their cheer, but the headache was massing, and I longed for home. Anyway, Charlotte’s manner told me I couldn’t leave. Not yet. I had to be here.

‘No more punch-ups,’ said Kaspar.

Jenö did a little jab: a one-two, then he dusted off his knuckles and put them away. ‘I shall be as good as gold for the rest of my artistic career.’

‘I wouldn’t bet on it,’ said Irmi.

‘Is the curfew over?’ said Kaspar.

‘Yes,’ said Walter, ‘we’re free to roam. Just be careful of the Bath-house. I think there’s still a price on our heads there.’