‘In that case, you’re going to be pleased when you hear the news.’

Norah tried to look interested, but she could feel her thoughts wandering and was pretty sure that Berger sensed her abstraction.

‘Our cover story for the next issue,’ Berger said.

‘The interview with the new Burg Theatre director?’ Norah asked—even she had picked up that much.

Her boss nodded.

‘A whole hour. Quite a coup—he usually refuses to give interviews because he believes, as he puts it, that his work speaks for him. He’s making an exception for us. Or rather: for you.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘I’d like you to conduct the interview.’

‘Please don’t get me wrong,’ said Norah. ‘I’d be delighted to. But why me? Why not Eva?’

It was a fair question. Norah knew a lot about the theatre and had often written reviews of premieres in Berlin, but Eva was the magazine’s official theatre expert. Norah didn’t want her to think she was encroaching on her territory.

‘Well,’ he said. ‘It wasn’t my decision.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Preller seems to be a fan of yours. He specifically asked to speak to you.’

‘Are you serious?’ Norah asked.

Berger shrugged.

‘Okay,’ Norah said. ‘Good. I’d love to interview him. Maybe I could take Eva along with me?’

Berger shook his head.

‘He wants you on your own. No idea why. Shouldn’t think it has anything to do with you; probably just another of his little power games. He has a reputation for that kind of thing.’

Great, Norah thought.

Out loud, she asked, ‘Is there a date?’

‘There is,’ said Berger, rifling through his papers. ‘February 11, 10 p.m. At the entrance to the Prater.’

Out in the corridor, Norah almost crashed into David.

‘You’re white as a sheet,’ he said. ‘Is everything okay?’

Norah gave a brief nod and headed for her office.

‘Why are you always so aloof?’ David asked.

Norah wheeled round to him.

‘I’m sorry?’

‘I don’t understand. We’re all so nice to you, but you seem determined to keep yourself to yourself. Have we done something to offend you?’

‘I don’t keep myself to myself,’ she said.

‘Oh, come on, Norah. We all have lunch together every day. You’re the only one who doesn’t sit with us.’

Norah didn’t reply.

‘Oh well, suit yourself,’ David said, looking at her again for a moment before turning to leave.

Norah felt as if she’d been slapped in the face. What did he mean, she kept herself to herself? Wasn’t it them? Hadn’t they shut her out right from the start? Then reality shifted. For a second she saw the world through their eyes and realised that he was right. Suddenly she heard Alex’s voice in her ear. People aren’t as bad as you think. You’d know that if you gave them a chance now and then.

45

Norah was sitting on her bed with her legs tucked under her, a pillow at her back. She’d been sitting there, staring at the wall, for a very long time. Reinhold Preller wanted to see her in the Prater on the evening of February 11. Could it be a coincidence? No, she decided, it could not. But how the hell did a prestigious theatre director fit into all this?