At one end of the sports-hall in Charlottenburg, West Berlin, two mixed-doubles pairs were playing table-tennis, and excited cries were coming from the benches at the side. Erich Ritter and Heidrun Kassner were practically unbeatable, but they still trained as if they were fighting for their places on the team. They had been at the table almost two hours with the club second pair, Frank and Renate, and the play was fast and intelligent. At this stage of the evening, they weren’t scoring, but simply practising shots.
‘Time to stop, I think,’ Frank appealed to the others. He had a job as a drummer in a strip club, and liked to be away by 9.30.
‘Not yet,’ said Heidrun flatly. ‘Erich’s return of service is still rising too high.’ She appealed to the benches. ‘Yes?’ She was popular with the club juniors, because she knew them all by name and took an interest in their progress, often sparing time to coach them. She’d come up from the juniors herself, made the first team as a singles player, and only changed to mixed doubles for the sake of the club, to strengthen one of its obvious weaknesses. The pairing of Erich with Renate had never been dependable. Naturally, there had been some red-eyed looks from Renate when Heidrun had displaced her, but it had been obvious that Erich deserved a better partner.
‘No,’ Renate declared, affirming it by laying her bat on the table. ‘That’s enough for me, too.’
Erich picked up his tracksuit top and turned to Heidrun, who was signalling her obstinacy in the way she was bouncing the ball on her bat. ‘A coffee before I see you home?’
‘What’s the hurry?’ asked Heidrun off-handedly. ‘I fancy a swim. Renate, would you care for a swim?’
Renate gave her a long look. Everyone knew that Erich was hopelessly in love with Heidrun. He waited for her each evening outside the coffee-shop where she worked as a waitress. ‘That’s not a bad idea. Why don’t you join us, Erich?’
But something had snapped. Erich reddened and said, ‘No, thanks. I’m off.’
Frank offered him a lift, and the men left together.
There were times when Renate found Heidrun’s treatment of Erich insufferable. When she had taken him over as her partner, it was all kisses and clasped hands and would you like to take me home, darling? Now that they were the regular first-team pair, she had switched off the sweet-talk, only resorting to it when Erich showed signs of losing interest in table-tennis.
As the two girls showered after their swim, Renate found herself doubting whether Heidrun had ever actually taken Erich to bed. She had no other lovers, but she was undeniably attractive – curvy, clear-skinned, big-breasted, all the things guys lusted over. Standing there now, massaging shampoo into her short, silver-streaked hair, Heidrun was clearly untroubled about Erich’s leaving. Sport apparently gave her all the fulfilment she wanted. If those shapely thighs ever parted for Erich, she’d probably still be going on about his return of service.
‘Something amusing you?’ Heidrun suddenly demanded.
Renate reddened and turned away.
Heidrun shook her hair. ‘Is this how you get your kicks – grinning at girls in showers?’
Insulted, Renate said, ‘There’s no need to be coarse. This is free Berlin. I’m allowed to smile if I wish.’
Heidrun stepped out of the shower and picked up her towel. ‘It might not be a bad thing if people this side of the Wall were more serious.’
‘They have reason to be serious on the other side,’ Renate replied.
‘Yes, but they beat the world at sport.’