‘The dancing?’ Wilde said. ‘Yes, it’s fine.’

‘And you, sir?’ he said to Heck.

‘Not my sort of thing, fellow.’

‘May I sit with you a moment? It is not often we get honoured American guests.’

‘Take a seat,’ Wilde said.

The man introduced himself as Heinrich Stifter and ordered more brandy, on the house. As the dancing finished, the audience clapped appreciatively. Stifter shook his head. ‘Half our young dancers are dead. Look around the room – women of all ages but only old men and boys. That’s what the war did – that’s the legacy of those German bloody Nazis across the border. Sent our young men to their deaths.’

‘Where are the other half?’

‘Prisoner of war camps, trying to stay alive.’

‘So, no Nazis here in Grünegg, eh, Herr Stifter?’ Heck said.

The scepticism in his voice was very obvious to Wilde.

‘Oh, you know, one or two among the older folk, but I’m sure they have now seen the error of their ways. But tell me, gentlemen, you do not look like soldiers.’

‘What do soldiers look like?’ Heck said.

‘Well, they wear uniforms. Are you perhaps vacationing?’

‘What we’re doing is our business.’

‘Of course, of course. But we love to have Ami guests here and we would like many more. I was just thinking that if you were US Army, you could tell your friends about our beer and music and food – our gemütlichkeit, our friendly atmosphere. And we want to get skiing again this winter. Perfect for your Ami friends for a weekend of sport. Can I offer you more brandy, gentlemen? Or a little home-made plum schnapps?’

‘I think I’ve had enough,’ Wilde said.

‘You know, Herr Stifter, you all look pretty well fed here? How come you have food when everyone else seems to be starving?’

‘This is a farming community, sir. Farmers always have food. It is the way of the world, I think. I’m sure that in England and America the farmers ate better than the city-dwellers.’

‘Perhaps you’d show us to our rooms,’ Heck said. ‘I don’t want to hear about your well-fed bellies.’

Wilde noted the darkness in his eyes. Was it the brandy – or the display of Tyrolean culture, as though nothing had changed in six years, as though millions had not died. As though life could go on regardless.

‘Of course, sir.’

‘Oh, and by the way. You mentioned the Nazis across the border in Germany. Perhaps you hadn’t heard, but one Adolf Hitler was an Austrian and legend has it that he, too, was a Nazi. Just fancy that.’

Stifter bowed deeply. ‘Your point is well made, sir.’

Heck rose, pushing his chair back so that it fell clattering to the floor behind him. Wilde rose, too, and they followed Stifter towards a door to the reception hall and staircase. Just then, the accordionist struck up a new tune and Wilde heard the scraping of chairs as the whole room rose to their feet.