It’s me.’ Theresa’s voice was faint and distant, masked by pings and rattles and a swelling ocean of hiss, as if she were calling from another world. ‘Hello, you.’ ‘Darling.’ Darling was a first from Theresa, a little touch of theatre. ‘Where are you?’ ‘Berlin. East Berlin. I just got in this afternoon. I’m using a neighbour’s phone, so I can’t . . . Is everything all right?’ In my hand the receiver creaked. I was holding it so tightly I was in danger of rupturing the plastic. ‘Of course. Never better. I thought you were coming over last week.’ ‘I meant to. Something came up. Martin said it was . . . I couldn’t really get out of it.’ ‘When am I going to see you?’ ‘Soon. I have to sort things out here first. I can’t just dump my suitcase with Professor Ebert and vanish – though I wish I could. I’m supposed to be studying here.’ Even through the noise I could tell that she was nervous, troubled. But about what? ‘I was thinking I should come to you for a change?
