Yes, Norah thought. But you could have got all that from the girl with the Alsatian. The man registered her suspicion.

‘Woman stand there,’ he said, pointing to the spot where Norah had seen the woman—a monolith in the flood of people. ‘Gold bowl in hand.’

Norah nodded and the man’s smile deepened.

‘Dorotea,’ he said.

‘Is that her name?’

‘Come,’ he urged.

‘First I’d like to know what the information costs.’

‘Only hundred euro.’

Norah shook her head. She almost laughed out loud at the man’s cheek.

‘That’s too expensive,’ she said. ‘I’ll give you twenty euros, if you take me to her.’

The man’s eyes twinkled.

‘Not enough,’ he said. ‘Is long way.’

Norah thought for a moment. All she needed was the address; she had no desire to tramp the streets with a man who looked like a small-time crook, even if he wasn’t planning to lure her into a quiet alleyway and steal her wallet. But how did she know that he wouldn’t give her any old address, pocket the twenty euros and do a runner? The answer was: she didn’t. But it was worth a try.

‘Fifty euro,’ the man said.

‘Twenty.’

‘Forty euro.’

‘Twenty.’

The man clicked his tongue and gave Norah a disparaging look.

‘You change your mind, you find me in Walcher’s Bar,’ he said. His smile had seeped away into his pores.

He walked off, without looking back. Probably for the best, Norah thought. And then: Dorotea. Interesting. If it was true.

16

The weekend was an empty canvas and Norah had neither paints nor brushes. Coming home from a leisurely visit to the Albertina, she was alarmed at how much of the day was left. What was she going to do with so much time? Although she’d been gone for hours, it was only early afternoon. For a desperate moment, she thought of going in search of the man who’d told her about Dorotea and throwing fifty euros of her hard-earned money at him.

How had she filled her weekends in Berlin? She and Alex had lingered over breakfast or had brunch with friends, and in the evenings they’d gone to the cinema or theatre or had dinner out. Or they’d stayed in and ordered pizza and watched a Netflix series, sprawled on the sofa. But what on earth had they done in those hours in between—that wilderness between breakfast and afternoon, that bleak steppe between afternoon and evening? She had no idea. Couldn’t begin to remember. It was as if such empty moments hadn’t existed in her old life.

She wondered whether to go and look up Theresa, but decided to ring Sandra instead. No answer. Norah hung up and tried again—still no answer. She rang Max; he didn’t pick up either. But Tanja did.

‘Hello, sweetheart!’ Her cheerful voice rang out across the ether almost before the dialling tone had sounded. Tanja was so infectiously bubbly that just hearing her speak made Norah feel better.

‘Hey,’ Norah said. ‘Lovely to hear your voice. How are you?’