‘Oh, you know how stupid I am? I was being sad being alone, the first time, you see, and I got depressed and cried and went to Cuckoo and, well, we talked about things.’

‘Why did you cry? What for? And talked about what things?’

‘Nothing really. Things. I am silly, you know, I am just a joke truly.’

‘A German joke,’ said Marcus, ‘is no laughing matter. What’s it all about?’

Leni pushed a hand through her hair, the airplane slide clattered to the tiled floor. ‘Look what I’ve done! Perhaps broken …’ She stooped, picked it up, dusted it, put it in her shirt pocket. ‘Cuckoo said to pick a good time, is it now?’

‘Is what now?’

‘This is a good time?’

‘What to do?’

‘Show you something.’ She pulled the passport from the same pocket, offered it to him with a far from certain hand.

Marcus took it into the room, looked at it in the light of the one small bedside lamp. ‘Your passport? What for?’

‘Open it,’ she said from the balcony.

He did, flipping through the pages. ‘It’s all blank. Visa, Visa, Visa, Visa … Good God!’ He suddenly spread it wide. ‘Who’s this?’

‘Me,’ she said in a very quiet voice.

‘With all that dreadful hair? Terrible long, fair, hair over your shoulders? You?’

‘Yes. I cut it.’

‘God-awful.’

‘I’m sorry. It was two years ago perhaps.’

‘It’s like a mug-shot.’

‘I don’t know what is.’

‘And what’s all this rigmarole Gräfin Luise and all the rest?’

‘My name.’

‘Your name? Gräfin? What about Leni then?’

‘It’s not there. You see, it’s my, well, my stage name only.’

He jabbed a finger at the opened pages. ‘And all this stuff is who you are? Gräfin, Luise whatever?’

‘Not whatever. Von Lamsfeld.’

‘Well. Whatever; it’s a hell of a mouthful. What’s “Gräfin” for short? Graffi?’

‘No. It’s not. You can’t make it short; it is not my name.’

‘What the hell is it then?’ He closed the passport, dropped it on the seat of the chair. ‘I think you looked awful, with that hair.’

‘It’s my title. I am a Countess.’

‘Hoity toity!’ he said, collecting the cassette-player and going towards the bathroom. ‘No good trying to impress me: I know too much about you, my girl.’ He turned on the taps, poured bath oil, pulled off his shirt.

‘It’s who I am.’

‘You’d hardly guess it from your behaviour; but you might from your cooking.’

‘It’s not funny.’

‘I know.’ He took off his jeans, folded them. ‘I told you, German jokes aren’t.’

‘It’s not a joke. And you don’t care?’ She came into the room, picked up the passport, put it back in her pocket.