‘But how long can I carry this torch!’ Pain made his voice rich. He took off his glasses and his eyes were smaller without the lenses. ‘Jenö once said to me I had too many feelings. It was early on, in the autumn when we’d all just met. I had no idea what he meant. I didn’t know what it was like not to feel things like I did – to be a man who felt things come and go, as if it were a case of watching the clouds go by; skitter, skitter. I wanted to say: do you not feel things? How is it that out of everyone I’m the only one to ever feel anything? But now I’ve learnt: best to pretend everything is fine. Whatever you do, don’t say what’s on your mind. That’s what will save you. Say nothing. Do nothing.’ He looked at me bitterly, and I knew what he was going to say before he said it, and I knew already that I would lie. ‘Do you still have feelings for Charlotte?’

‘No,’ I said, and I felt relief in my heart for the deceit.

‘You always were so much more sensible. I envy you that. You knew how to keep your cool.’

A flock of birds set off from the trees, spooked by something.

‘Do you want to see him again? Ernst? Like that, I mean?’

‘I’d like to be with someone, yes,’ he said, by way of an answer. I thought about Ernst and Walter together, two bodies pressed between the trees.

‘Well, why not have a little fun then? You deserve it.’

His hand slipped to his pocket again. I wondered what was in there. Rocks to drown himself with? Or his wages from the studio? ‘Shall we head back?’

Walter went, scowling. It was cold and the trees were noisy with wind. Things were in disarray: the sunshine so quickly changing into wet squalls and thunderstorms, and then days of this: nothing but cloud. Even today the iced school shone. The bottom of the building was painted grey, which gave the illusion that the school was hovering. I often found it a confusing place to find my way around; each leg of the building drawing you away from its centre like a switchblade.

We walked toward the big letters spelled in metal and shadow: Bauhaus. The word ran vertically. As we reached the doors – painted in red, the only real colour at the school – there was a knocking above us: it was Jenö and Charlotte, grinning down at us from the Metal Workshop.