Red entertained the house-party until after midnight with tales of the divided city. Not wishing to crack another bottle of brandy, Cedric had produced some six-packs of lager. By tacit consent, no more was said about Hess. Everyone needed a break to let Cedric’s startling theories shake down, so Red talked vividly about the Fluchthelfer, the reckless characters who made a business of smuggling fugitives out of East Germany, sometimes for ideals, sometimes profit. The way he laughed off a suggestion that they were the Cold War heroes had the curious effect of revealing how closely he identified with them. Whilst not admitting to cross-border adventures of his own, he was vague about the way he had researched his highly original feature.
Jane was the first to leave the party, blaming the brandy for making her tired, and Dick moved off soon after, each of them taking one of the books about Hess which Cedric had thoughtfully distributed as bedtime reading. Eventually, Cedric left, muttering something about the bathroom. Red stretched out on the sofa for a last cigarette, and dozed.
When he stirred, it was 1.15 a.m. He stood up, picked up the book Cedric had left him, and on second thoughts put it down and picked up a lager instead, and made for the passage leading to the front door.
Outside, it was mild enough to let him take stock of the scene as he strolled towards the end cottage. He was amused to notice there were no lights at any of the windows; even Ginge was too tanked up to do the homework.
He let himself in, stripped and stepped into the shower, this time remembering to slide the door across. He was not too tired to enjoy the sensation of the cool jets striking his skin. He gave a thought to Jane, and the business earlier with the key of the connecting door. She amused him with her riding-school accent and Young Conservative opinions. For all that, a bit of a feminist, he guessed. Not the sort who would muck out the stables for the riding-master.
Out of curiosity, when he was dry and ready for bed, he tried the handle of the connecting door. It was locked from the other side. Grinning, Red got into bed and was soon asleep.
Some hours later, he woke and it was light, that pale suggestion of dawn that he only ever expected to see when nature called him to the bathroom after a heavy night’s drinking. Out in the woods, the rooks sounded like a peace demo. At least it wasn’t in his head. With a sigh, he heaved himself out of bed.
While he was drinking to take the dryness off his throat, he was pretty sure he heard a click, followed by the creak of boards next door.
His thoughts were not at their most agile, but on the way back he decided to try the door again.
It opened. Jane was in bed on the other side of the room staring at him, apparently not in panic.
She said in her best county accent, ‘Naked again, Mr Goodbody?’
Red answered truthfully, ‘I sleep like this.’
Jane said, ‘Snap,’ and pulled aside the duvet.