Now, she said, we were going to see the suburbs of Berlin and find somewhere she loved for lunch. Her hand was resting between my legs as if that inti...acy was the most natural thing in the world. Her ‘girl,’ the blonde haired driver seldom spoke except to accept instructions. ‘She is Eva and she is a good driver. She used to work in one of our clubs but became too old and hideously ugly, is that not correct, Eva.’ The girl turned to look at her employer and she was quite beautiful and looked. I am so very glad you invited me.’ ‘That’s beautiful, Agnes,’ Elizabeth said with a relieved smile. ‘I needed that just now, thank you. I hope you are adjusting to being back home?’ ‘It is not easy,’ I had to admit. Having weathered an ill-fated marriage just after the war, I had gone back overseas for a time to clear my head, and had ultimately stayed flung to the four winds while Elizabeth and Jonathan were raising their four children. The life of a writer is hell with respect to. More

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