Carla wore a beginner’s uniform, but she considered herself to be more than just hopeful. ‘I am a trainee nurse,’ she said. She did not like Willrich.

‘Please sit.’ He opened a thin file. ‘Kurt is eight years old, but has reached the developmental stage of only two years.’

He paused. Neither woman said anything.

‘This is unsatisfactory,’ he said.

Ada looked at Carla. Carla did not know what he was getting at, and indicated as much with a shrug.

‘There is a new treatment available for cases of this type. However, it will necessitate moving Kurt to another hospital.’ Willrich closed the file. He looked at Ada and, for the first time, he smiled. ‘I’m sure you would like Kurt to undergo a therapy that might improve his condition.’

Carla did not like his smile: it seemed creepy. She said: ‘Could you tell us more about the treatment, Professor?’

‘I’m afraid it would be beyond your understanding,’ he said. ‘Even though you are a trainee nurse.’

Carla was not going to let him get away with that. ‘I’m sure Frau Hempel would like to know whether it would involve surgery, or drugs, or electricity, for example.’

‘Drugs,’ he said with evident reluctance.

Ada said: ‘Where would he have to go?’

‘The hospital is in Akelberg, in Bavaria.’

Ada’s geography was weak, and Carla knew she had no sense of how far that was. ‘It’s two hundred miles,’ she said.

‘Oh, no!’ said Ada. ‘How would I visit him?’

‘By train,’ said Willrich impatiently.

Carla said: ‘It would take four or five hours. She would probably have to stay overnight. And what about the cost of the fare?’

‘I cannot concern myself with such things!’ said Willrich angrily. ‘I am a doctor, not a travel agent!’

Ada was close to tears. ‘If it means Kurt will get better, and learn to say a few words, and not to soil himself . . . one day we might perhaps bring him home.’

‘Exactly,’ said Willrich. ‘I felt sure you would not wish to deny him the chance of getting better just for your own selfish reasons.’

‘Is that what you’re telling us?’ said Carla. ‘That Kurt might be able to live a normal life?’

‘Medicine offers no guarantees,’ he said. ‘Even a trainee nurse should know that.’

Carla had learned, from her parents, to be impatient with prevarication. ‘I don’t ask you for a guarantee,’ she said crisply. ‘I ask you for a prognosis. You must have one, otherwise you would not be proposing the treatment.’

He reddened. ‘The treatment is new. We hope it will improve Kurt’s condition. That is what I am telling you.’

‘Is it experimental?’

‘All medicine is experimental. All therapies work on some patients but not on others. You must listen to what I tell you: medicine offers no guarantees.’

Carla wanted to oppose him just because he was so arrogant, but she realized that was not the basis on which to make a judgement. Besides, she was not sure that Ada really had a choice. Doctors could go against the wishes of parents if the child’s health was at risk: in effect, they could do what they liked. Willrich was not asking Ada’s permission – he had no real need of it. He was speaking to her only in order to avoid a fuss.