While I looked through the files and signed them, I had begun wondering whether to call Frauke and indeed whether it would be tactically wise to do so at the moment. She hadn’t been in touch since the event at Frau Novotna’s gallery, which had ended with the two of us going our separate ways, and I could easily believe that she wanted to let me stew in my own juice. Or it was also possible that she herself, if I showed I wasn’t impressed by such conduct, would begin feeling insecure if not even jealous, and would unexpectedly turn up maybe on Sunday morning, maybe on Monday evening, perfectly casual, carefree and at her ease, apparently without any recollection of our quarrel and the icy silence that had followed it. I was even wondering whether there was any point in bothering about the tactical wisdom of making overtures to Frauke again. Did I know how our relationship was going to turn out in the long run? I wasn’t sure. However, I did know that I didn’t want to spend the weekend on my own.
