But, regrettably, there was some truth in Pugh’s suspicions. Although Lockhart had no intention of sleeping with Leni, he couldn’t deny that he very much wanted to. The flesh was willing, Lockhart thought, but his spirit was thankfully weak. He resolved that the least he could do was to keep any drinking to a minimum in her presence. For now, he had to shut parts of himself down, to become even more hollow than he already felt. His biggest fear was that he would not succeed, that before long he would break down.

He knew that if any one thing was going to be the catalyst for such a collapse, it would be the attention of another woman. And the woman most likely to fill such a devastating role was the woman he would be seeing that afternoon, who could help him in a way that nobody else could. As the train drew into Berlin, Lockhart found himself, for the first time in his life, sincerely cursing the existence of feminine beauty.

Lockhart arrived at Leni’s flat shortly after two o’clock. He was half an hour late—the small street map he had of Berlin was barely representative of the bombed-out maze the city was becoming. Leni’s block was lucky to have survived—much of her street consisted of rubble, the remnants of domesticity being picked over by skeletal dogs and rats. What Lockhart found most bizarre was the presence of a smartly dressed old woman, making her way through the spoil, balancing herself with a parasol and a handbag. The woman smiled at Lockhart as she passed him, evidently finding something friendly about his face. Lockhart smiled back, wondering where the woman was going, why she was looking so smart.

The flat was more poky and dismal than he had imagined. He had it in his head that she would be living in an elegant apartment, which would have suited her more than the grimy single-bulbed room he was walking into.

“I’m sorry—it’s not the Adlon.”

“That’s quite all right,” said Lockhart. “Anyway, the Adlon’s far too public.”

Leni walked to the window and looked down to the road.

“Are you sure you weren’t followed?” she asked.

“Yes,” said Lockhart.

“I hope so,” said Leni. “You know they don’t just use men in leather coats?”

“I don’t doubt it,” said Lockhart.

Leni turned from the window and looked at him. Her expression was both fierce and alluring. She looked so out of place, thought Lockhart. She should be on a stage, in a film, anywhere but here, in this seedy room in this nervous city.

“What time is he arriving?” Lockhart asked.

Leni looked at her watch.

“He should be here within half an hour.”

“Excellent,” said Lockhart, sitting on the edge of Leni’s small bed. “And thank you. I mean it.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” said Leni, walking to her desk.

She picked up a packet of Camel cigarettes and offered one to Lockhart, who declined it. Leni lit her cigarette.