The headlights of the jeep illuminated a sign at the door saying ‘Der Kuhhaus’, along with a fresco of a cow with a bell and a large painted edelweiss flower; music was filtering out into the cool night air. ‘I suppose it’ll be too late to call on our mountain guide anyway. Let’s see if we can get some food here and a couple of rooms.’

‘A beer, too,’ Heck said. ‘What is this village?’

‘I saw a sign that said Grünegg.’ Wilde was already parking the jeep, directly in front of the building. ‘Looks a nice prosperous place; doesn’t seem to have been affected much by the war.’

They knocked at the door, but there was no reply, so they pushed it open and walked in. They found themselves in a large room, lit by candles and packed with tables, all of which appeared to be occupied by grey-haired men in Tyrolean leather shorts and close-collared jackets, and women in colourful dirndls, all clapping and singing along to a tune played by a woman with an accordion. She was accompanied by the deep notes of a double bass played by a man with a long grey walrus moustache. Most of those present were women. One or two looked in the direction of the newcomers, but then turned back to their beer and clapping.

A woman dressed like everyone else but with a leather money-belt slung across her hip approached them with a smile. Heck did the talking. ‘We need food and we need rooms for the night. Can you help us?’

‘Of course. We have bread and sausage or you can have spätzle.’ She looked at her wristwatch. ‘You are a little late, but it will be fine.’

‘I’ll take the spätzle,’ Heck said.

‘And I’ll take the bread and sausage,’ Wilde said. ‘Also a beer and a brandy.’

The woman’s expression changed. Just a fraction, but it definitely changed. ‘Ah, you are Ami – American?’

‘I’m not, my friend is,’ Heck said. ‘Does that make a difference, Fräulein?’

‘No, no, of course not, sir. Just from your accent I thought you were Bavarian.’

‘I lived a lot of my early life in these parts.’

‘Now, I understand, sir. Let me find you a table and bring you your food and drink. I hope you enjoy the music.’

*

The food was good, so was the beer and brandy. Wilde began to feel mellow. Then the folk dancers came on in their knee-length tasselled lederhosen and long socks, slapping their thighs, smacking the soles of their shoes and stamping their feet while the crowd all clapped in time. The dancers – six of them – were all boys, none of whom could have been more than twelve years old.

A man, who was clearly the proprietor, came up and bowed graciously to Wilde and Heck. He had thin grey hair and a barrel chest. The flesh of his face was thick and muscled – the mark of a man whose diet had always been predominantly meat. ‘Good evening, gentlemen,’ he said in heavily accented English. ‘Do you like the schuhplattler?’