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When she opened the little cigarette case I took one and rolled it in my fingers for a moment and passed it under my nostrils to remind myself that it was better to have America as a friend than an enemy before poking it between my lips and dipping my head onto a match from a book off the table that was in her scented hand.

‘Guerlain Shalimar,’ I said and puffed my cigarette happily for a second before adding, ‘You were wearing it when I last saw you.’

‘A gift from an admirer. Seems like every Fritz who comes back on leave from Paris brings a girl perfume. It’s the one thing there’s no shortage of here in Berlin. I swear I could open a shop, the amount of perfume I’ve been given since the war started. Men. Why don’t they bring something useful like shoe laces, or toilet paper?’ She shook her head. ‘Cooking oil. Have you tried buying cooking oil? Forget it.’

‘Maybe they figure you smell better wearing the perfume.’

She smiled. ‘You must think I’m really ungrateful.’

‘The next time I’m in Paris I’ll buy you some paperclips and put you to the test.’

‘No, really. The other night I didn’t get a chance to thank you properly, Parsifal.’

‘Skip it. You were in no state to be throwing me a cocktail party.’ I took hold of her chin and turned her profile toward me. ‘The eye looks fine. Maybe just a little bruised around the edges. Then again I always go simple for blue eyes.’

For a moment she looked bashful. Then she hardened again. ‘I don’t want you being nice to me.’

‘That’s all right. I didn’t bring any perfume.’

‘Not until I’ve apologized to you. For not being honest.’

‘It’s a national habit.’

She took a sip of her beer and then a kiss from her cigarette. Her hand was shaking a little.

‘Really. There’s nothing to apologize for.’

‘All the same, I would like to explain something.’

I shrugged. ‘If you want. Take your time. There’s no one waiting for me at home.’

She nodded and then picked out another smile to wear. This one was looking sheepish.

‘First of all I want you to know I’m not some joy-girl. Sometimes, when I’m in here, I’ll let a man buy me a drink. Or give me a present. Like these cigarettes. But that’s as far as it goes unless – well, we’re all human, aren’t we?’

‘I certainly used to believe that.’

‘That’s the truth, Parsifal. Anyway, being the cloakroom girl in a place like this is a good job. The Amis – even a few of the Germans – they tip well. There’s nothing much to spend it on but I figure you still have to put something away for the bad times. And I’ve got an ugly feeling that there’s plenty of those yet to come. Worse than now, I mean. My brother says so. He says—’

Whatever her brother had said she seemed to think better of telling me about it. A lot of Berliners were forgetful like that. They would start talking, then remember a little thing called the Gestapo and just stop, mid-sentence, and stare into the distance for a minute and then say something like what she said next.

‘Skip it. What I was saying. It wasn’t anything important.’

‘Sure.’

‘What’s important is you know I’m not selling it, Parsifal.’

‘I understand,’ I said, hardly caring if she was selling it or not. But I was keen to hear her out, although I was still wondering why she felt obliged to explain herself at all.

‘I hope so.’ She picked a piece of tobacco off her tongue and her fingers came away red from her lipstick. ‘Okay. Here’s what happened that night. Household, building, contents, everything because I figure I have to tell someone and I get the feeling you might be interested. Say if you’re not and I’ll just shut up. But you were interested enough to come down here and look for me, right?’

I nodded.

‘And as a matter of fact it’s in here that the story starts. It was during my break. Magda – she’s the girl you met, in the cloakroom – was behind the desk and I was in the bar. When we have our break we’re supposed to come in here and have a drink with the customers. Like you and me are doing now.’

She tried on another smile. This one looked wry.

‘Some break. Frankly it’s not a break at all. The Fritzes here are generous with their drinks and their cigarettes, and usually I’m glad to get back to the cloakroom to have a rest and try to clear my head.’ She shrugged. ‘I was never much of a drinker but that kind of excuse really doesn’t work in here.’

‘I can imagine.’