I wait for him at the Frauenhuber. He will join me when the lecture is over, at four. I order coffee for both of us, then take the Wiener Zeitung from the newspaper rack. I start on a long news item, imagining that before I have finished reading it, he will be here. I read to the end of the article; but Harri hasn’t arrived. His coffee will be getting cold: I shouldn’t have ordered so soon. I glance at the other customers – two businessmen sharing a strudel; a girl with an older woman, the girl politely talking but looking round with restless eyes. I feel lonely, and rather self-conscious, sitting here on my own. The minutes drag on. I feel a small dark niggle of worry. I have to force myself not to keep glancing towards the café door. I play games. I tell myself I will count to fifty, not look at the door all that time; and when I finish counting, he will have magically appeared. I count, look up: no Harri.
