23

‘Thomas! What are you doing here? I thought we were never going to see each other again?’

Thomas walked towards Erich to greet him. To challenge him.

‘Have you come to see how I do it?’ Erich said. ‘Jana tells me I’m one of the best models she has ever known.’

The artist laughed with chagrin as she returned to her easel. Whatever was troubling Thomas about the painting, she decided it was none of her concern.

‘Are you okay?’ Erich asked, changing his tone as he approached Thomas.

‘I’m fine.’

Erich turned to Jana. ‘Did you know this man is my closest friend?’

‘He’s been modelling for me this afternoon,’ she said. ‘I’m making wonderful progress now.’

‘Well, that is good news. You have done a good turn today, Thomas.’

‘Don’t patronise me,’ Thomas said quickly.

‘For the artist, I mean,’ Erich said. ‘A good turn, for the artist.’

Thomas turned to him with a scowl, lining up his first blow. ‘How could you leave Ingrid like that?’

‘Like what?’

‘The other night. You left us all on the street.’

‘Calm down.’ Erich came forward and put his hand on his friend’s shoulder. ‘Have you seen the painting? – Jana, can he see it? It really is a masterpiece.’

‘He’s already seen it.’

‘Don’t you think it’s a masterpiece, Thomas?’

‘How would I know? I don’t know anything about art.’

Erich moved round to the front of the painting as it stood on the easel.

Thomas followed. Suddenly his blood was heating up. ‘I’m not interested in art,’ he said in a rush of anxiety. ‘I don’t care about the painting. These are modern times – what is the point of a painting?’

‘Please don’t say that,’ Jana said. The surly, slightly embarrassed look Thomas had first known her with reappeared. ‘We’ve just spent two hours working on it together. You don’t really mean there’s no point, do you?’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Thomas. His voice carried new vibrations. ‘I’m not thinking straight.’

‘Do you see how she’s painted me?’ Erich said, disregarding the atmosphere in the room. ‘Full of vigour and life. I have so much admiration for this woman.’

‘I see you’re wearing glasses,’ Thomas said as he found his focus again.

‘How do you mean?’

‘In the painting. You have glasses on.’

‘Yes. So I have.’

‘You don’t normally wear them.’

‘That’s true.’

‘Then whose glasses are they? They’re not yours, I know that.’

‘No, I don’t suppose they are.’

‘Then whose are they?’

‘An artistic prerogative?’

‘No, Jana has already told me, you had them with you in Potsdam. I know who’s glasses they are, but I want you to tell me.’

Erich looked his friend in the eyes. ‘I don’t know who those glasses belong to.’ His voice began to falter.

Thomas crossed his arms across this chest in preparation for a battle. ‘You’re lying.’

‘Thomas, let’s go out for a walk. Jana? Can you wait for me? I promise I won’t be long.’

Erich put his arm around Thomas’ shoulder and led him out of the studio. As they descended the stairwell, they did so in a brutal silence that took Thomas straight back to that morning in Potsdam. When they entered the wide space of the street, he was quick to make sure he spoke first.

‘Did you know that Ingrid is taking drugs?’ he said sharply. It seemed to make sense to attack on several fronts. ‘Did you know that? Because she told me all about it the other night.’

‘Yes, she injects herself with morphine,’ Erich said, using a matter-of-fact voice that only agitated Thomas.

‘And doesn’t that bother you? How is it possible that she is carrying your child and you don’t seem to care?’

‘Carrying my child? How do you know that?’

‘Because she told me.’

‘She told you? She wasn’t supposed to tell you. That wasn’t part of the plan.’

‘Plan? What plan?’

‘Only… mine and Ingrid’s. Our plan to marry.’

‘Well, she told me. After you left us the other night, she told me. It’s true, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, I think so. It’s been a few weeks, maybe longer. Thomas, look, I don’t know. She’s been going to the doctor – I don’t know what the situation is.’

‘But you think she’s pregnant?’

‘So it would seem.’ Erich brought out a pack of cigarettes and lit the tip of one.

‘Don’t you care?’

‘Thomas, instead of shouting at me, why don’t you tell me what all that was about in Jana’s studio? Why did you say you don’t care about painting? I think you hurt her feelings.’

‘I know you have seen Arno. I know that you saw him before the night in the bar. It wasn’t a thief that night, was it? It was Arno. And you knew it was him. Yet for some reason you decided to push him over the railings. You knew it was Arno. Why Erich? Why?’

‘Where did you get that gem from?’ Erich’s tone seemed oddly relieved. Thomas didn’t know what to make of it. ‘I simply have no idea what you’re talking about,’ Erich said.

‘No Erich! It’s time for you to tell the truth – for once!’

Erich sighed. Then the shape of his face changed and his lively expression suddenly turned grave. Thomas wasn’t sure, but he thought he could see tears welling in his eyes.

‘The trouble with you, Thomas, is that you’re just too good. We don’t deserve you. None of us deserve you.’ With that, he began fishing around in his jacket pocket. After a moment, he pulled out his hand and opened his palm. In it was a large bronze key.

‘What’s this?’

Erich handed it over.

Thomas took the key and felt its weight in his hand. He seemed to know he was in the possession of something important, but what it was for, he had no idea.

‘Take this key to Potsdam. Take it to Käthe. She’ll know what to do with it.’

‘What’s Käthe got to do with this?’

‘Take it to her. Then you’ll understand.’

‘If you tell me now, then I might understand right away.’

‘I can’t tell you now. If I tell you, it will put someone in danger. I don’t know who’s watching. We should have done this inside. I’ve made a mess of things. I thought I knew you Thomas, but I didn’t. You surprised me.’

‘Erich, tell me what’s happened.’

‘You must find out for yourself.’ Erich looked up at a darkening sky. ‘Rain,’ he said, just as a large drop clashed onto his forehead. He let out a laugh and reached up to touch the wet spot with his finger. As he brought his hand before his eyes, his face took on a woeful look as if it wasn’t rainwater that had hit his brow but something altogether more sinister. For a second he looked perplexed, and Thomas had the sense that instead of rainwater, he saw blood. ‘I’m leaving Berlin in tomorrow,’ he said.

‘Where are you going?’

‘I’m coming back, but I must leave for a few weeks. I can’t tell you where I’m going. It’s safer if you don’t know.’

‘What does that mean?’ Thomas called out. ‘Please Erich. Please tell me what it means.’

‘It means you must think for yourself now. Separate one thing from another. Don’t consider me anymore. We’re both safer if you can forget about me for a while’

Thomas had no answer, but held the key in his hand as he watched his friend go back into Jana’s building and close the door behind him.