Horst came into the room quietly, a bottle under his arm, two glasses bulging the pocket of his velvet smoking-jacket.

‘Here we are. As promised. A secret night-cap.’

‘Dear Horst. The “splendid runner”.’

‘What does that mean exactly? You always bewilder one.’

‘Mamma said that you and Isobel were “splendid runners” to whom she would hand over her baton. Whip, more like it.’

He laughed, settled into a fat wicker chair. ‘That tongue of yours! You really are unforgiving.’

‘I am so stimulated by the conversation of this evening, such wit! Such originality, I reel with pleasure at the sophistication of it all. Particularly Dr Langerdorf.’

He handed her a glass, pressed back the cork with the heel of his hand, took up his own glass and smiled across the lamp-lit room. ‘You can hardly expect Berlin or London at Lamsfeld. We are simple people with simple things to discuss. But you can expect the best schnapps in Germany.’ He raised his glass. ‘To you, dear Luise. The little sister now a woman.’ Horst was tall, thick-thighed, thick-necked, with strong hands. ‘This is your celebration as well as mine.’

‘Is yours such a celebration? Such responsibility … poor Isobel. Prisoners here for the rest of your lives.’

‘No, not so. Isobel is happy. I am happy. It is what I expected, what I wanted. We have Klaus and Helmut to help us, we are a united family still. I am also, as I have told you, a country boy, I have no love for cities and so on, and I love my land.’

She sipped her glass carefully, he had filled it very full. ‘What is left of it.’

‘Yes. But enough.’

She looked about her room, familiar, unloved. The high wooden bed, blue porcelain stove, a lithograph of The Crucifixion, the cuckoo clock, a worn plush teddy bear. ‘The relics of my youth,’ she laughed and raised her glass. ‘Adieu! Goodbye youth, goodbye relics, goodbye past! My celebration.’

‘You gave Mamma great pleasure in coming.’

‘I hadn’t much option. She wrote and said, “Come!” and sent the fare. I came for you, the new “Squire” of Lamsfeld.’

‘I knew. Thank you.’

‘I shall not return, you know.’

‘Perhaps? One day? Later?’

‘No … no, I have a new life. I invented a new person to be, I like her best, I like her life, she amuses me, I know her well now, she’s not very original, and she doesn’t belong here. But then, even I never really did.’

Horst crossed his thick farmer’s legs. ‘Oh come now. What nonsense. You were born here, you are our blood. Of course you belong.’