24

Berlin at dusk. The noise of iron-rimmed wheels turning over cobblestones, a horse and cart in the purple light, the three-pronged candelabra street-lamps flickering into life. Thomas rounded the corner of the long street, feeling the brilliant glow of the city on his shoulders. The air seemed suspended in this moment, as if dusk had paused and would last for hours.

He passed a small gathering of protesters carrying placards and singing Freie Bahn dem Tüchtigen. A boy with a tambourine banged a rhythm, keeping time with the melody. ‘Make way for the brave,’ Thomas repeated to himself as he went by.

Outside the Kakadu Bar, a soldier had accosted two women in fur coats and was handing them pamphlets, holding the wrist of one of them, smiling as he spoke, and snarling as he smiled. The woman was struggling to release herself from his grip, smiling too.

Thomas went on. The impulse he felt banged inside him like a headache he knew would pass. He went to the garage where his motorbike was kept and rode it out of the city to Potsdam, through the darkening countryside where the lighted windows of farmhouses reflected in the waterways and the trees swayed in hunched silhouettes.

At Käthe’s apartment, he took the stairs up to the hallway where a dim electric lamp lit the space with a cold-grey light. He didn’t knock because he imagined he would always be welcome. He moved through the rooms slowly, spaces he had come to know well, rooms that were marked in the deepest quarters of his memory. He called out her name.

‘Thomas?’ she called back from behind a wall. A moment later, Käthe appeared before. She was wearing a knee-length evening dress, a glamorous shard of emerald-green that took her visitor by surprise.

‘Have you come to see me? I haven’t really got time right now, Thomas.’ She gave a shrug of sorts. He noticed she was holding a bottle of wine in her hand.

‘I wanted to see you,’ he said.

‘It’s been more than a week. I thought you’d disappeared.’ She passed her hand through her short hair, a reflex she tried to subdue as soon as she was conscious of it. Her neck sparkled with a string of coloured stones, and on her ears, two pearls clipped to the lobes. ‘Well? You weren’t very pleased to see me the last time?’ she said insistently.

‘I’m sorry. Are you going out?’

‘You’ve come at a bad time. I’m in a terrible rush.’

She walked out of the hallway, leaving him in the company of the walls and the big rubber plant. Ahead of him he saw the passageway to the terrace.

‘Käthe?’ he called out, following her through the apartment. ‘Where are you going tonight?’

He found her washing dishes in the sink.

‘Does it matter where? I’m seeing some friends from the office. Not that it’s any of your business.’

‘I’ve come to see you.’

‘Where have you been Thomas?’ Suddenly her cheeks blushed pink. She put down the plate in her hand, dried her hands, and began to scratch her neck.

‘It hasn’t been so long.’

‘Eight days?’ She posed the number as a question. ‘And you didn’t think to come to see me? Or even make contact?’

He didn’t answer.

‘You hurt me that day. You said some very unkind things to me.’

‘Then let me make it up to you,’ he said.

‘No. I don’t need someone to hold my hand anymore.’

Thomas bowed his head. Suddenly the thought of waiting so long to see her seemed ludicrous. These familiar, hospitable surroundings left him feeling confused, and the woman stood before him took on a manner that was obscure and distant.

‘What I don’t understand’ – she started up again, pausing now to find her composure – ‘What I don’t understand is how it all changed. You seemed to like me, then overnight, you seemed to change your mind. Your behaviour – I don’t understand it.’

He looked at her in silence, this stranger stood before him. She continued:

‘I think I was falling in love with you. But – you! You have created this void between us. I could never have imagined it. It just seems, so, improbable!’ She laughed a strained, ironic laugh, and shook her head with her hand resting on the back of her neck.

‘I went to see Jana today,’ he said. ‘I sat for her. She’s almost finished the painting.’

‘That’s good. I’ve heard there’s to be an exhibition.’

‘An exhibition?’

‘I’m sorry Thomas. I have to go. I’ll be late if I don’t leave soon.’ She began picking up objects from a side table and putting them into a purse.

‘Do you need a lift?’ he said.

‘No, thank you.’ She drew a hat over her head. ‘I’ll make my own way. It’s not far.’

‘Wait,’ he said. He held up the bronze key that Erich had given him. ‘I need to ask you about something.’

‘Thomas! Another time.’

‘It has to be now.’

‘What is it?’

‘Erich gave it to me.’ He handed the key over to her. ‘He told me you would know what it’s for.’

‘Where did you get this from?’

‘Like I said, Erich gave it to me.’

‘But where did he get it from? It’s the key to my apartment.’

‘Is it?’

She went to the key-box on the wall of the hallway and opened its tiny wooden door. She unhooked a second key from the inside.

‘No, it can’t be. I have mine here.’ She shook her head confused. ‘It looks like my key, but it can’t be.’ By way of checking, she took the key Thomas had given her and tried it in the front door lock. ‘No, it’s nothing to do with me,’ said swiftly, handing the key back to Thomas. As she did, she pushed it soundly into his hand to reaffirm her impatience with the moment.

‘But Erich said you would know what it’s for.’

‘I’ve no idea. I’m sorry. You’ll have to ask him yourself.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘This is ridiculous. You turn up unannounced and present me with a key. Then you expect me to know all about it. Well, I don’t. I’ve never seen this key before.’

‘Käthe, please. This is important. It may have something to do with your brother.’

She stopped. ‘What’s Arno go to do with it?’

‘He may be in danger.’

‘Why do you say that?’

‘Erich said…’ he trailed off.

‘Thomas? Why do you say that? Tell me. Or are you making this up?’

‘Have you seen him recently?’

‘Arno? No I haven’t.’

‘When did you last hear from him?’

‘I don’t know. Two months ago. Or three months perhaps.’

‘Do you have any idea where he is now?’

‘No I don’t.’ She slipped the hat from her head, a sign she would listen to what Thomas had to say.

‘We found his glasses, out on the terrace, didn’t we? Remember?’

‘Yes.’

‘And did you ask your aunt about them? Did she leave them here?’

‘No, she didn’t. I asked her, but she didn’t know what I was talking about.’

‘So he’s been here, to this apartment.’

‘Yes, but I haven’t seen or heard from him since. It’s like he’s vanished from the face of the earth.’

‘Erich has seen him. It was Erich who left his glasses on the terrace. And Erich told me someone is in danger.’ Thomas suddenly had a feeling of incoherence. He wanted to describe all that had happened, how he’d seen Erich throw Arno over the railings, but he dared not frighten her like that. ‘Look, I don’t know! Except that this key is important!’

‘You’re not making any sense. You’re just worrying me. What else do you know about Arno?’

‘I think we saw him, on the night we all came here for the painting.’

‘Where?’

‘In a bar. He came up to us, asking us for help. He didn’t seem to look well.’

‘Why are you only telling me this now?’ Her voice became taut.

‘I didn’t know it was him! But this key – it will explain.’

She took the key from his hand and examined it.

‘It looks like the key to my apartment. But it’s not mine. Perhaps it’s for one of the other apartments.’

‘How can we tell?’

‘There’s only one way.’ She slipped out of the front door and down the stairwell. On the floor below, four apartment doors lined the narrow hallway. She went straight to the first door and put the key in the lock. It rattled but didn’t turn.

‘Not this one,’ she called out as Thomas followed down the stairs. He watched her move between the doors at a fearless pace. At the next door, she put the key in and tried to move it. Nothing.

At the third door, she put the key in the door and this time her wrist began to turn with the lock. She looked back at Thomas. ‘This is it,’ she said. She turned the handle of the door and went inside.