A Peaceful Summer

Good old days in Leipzig. Frank was at the conservatoire at that time; Helmut was a small boy, spoilt, ill-bred, but distinctly talented.

Now that he knew the ultimate purpose of his journey – to play music – he almost fainted and could barely move his legs.

In the cheerful family scene he stuck out like a guest on a reluctant courtesy visit.

He was in no position to ask questions.

Rilke cheered splashing not unlike one of those sparrows.

‘Unbelievable,’ Rilke thought. ‘An inch of wood separating me from normal life. Spring, freedom. Sunshine. Chats with friends over a beer or two. Girls. Better not to think about it.’

‘Good man… But spineless. By the looks of him he gave up a long time ago. Pity, because his kind doesn’t survive. I’m different. I’ll never give up.’

But the greatest inconvenience of all was the uncertainty.

‘You mean the autobahns and the swastikas? I got the picture all right. I don’t need to see it again.’

‘Something’s about to happen,’ she sensed. And then there were those calls from Florence which she didn’t like at all. Something was building up.