Lucia pulled her coat collar up and fastened the button at her throat. The snow was falling steadily, coating the pavements and roads with an ever-deepening layer of frozen white candy floss: typical weather for the time of year. She stomped feet encased in fur-lined boots and slid her arm through his.
“It’s freezing, Harrimale!” she squealed. “Can we not go somewhere warmer?”
“Of course we can. Kaffeeshop mit Sachertorte, or hotel room with, er… bratwurst. Which would you prefer?”
“I meant a warmer country, stupido.”
“Like England?”
“England must be warmer than this?”
“A little, I suppose. How are you with rain?”
“I can make do. If you are there with me.”
“We’ll be back in a couple of days. I just wanted you to see the Wall.”
They stood in the Straße des 17 Juni, looking east at the twelve-foot high concrete structure and, behind it, the iconic Brandenburg Gate topped with the Quadriga that, incongruously, faced east over the city.
“Up until 17 June 1953, this street used to be called the Charlottenburger Chaussee. It was renamed after an uprising against the communists but was brutally suppressed by the East German police. Eventually they built the Wall. They said it was to keep us westerners out.” He laughed at the irony.
“It’s terrible,” she said. “Do you think it will ever come down?”
“Can’t see it. Not in our lifetime. But the US has a strong young president, in contrast to those dinosaurs in the Soviet Union. Maybe he’ll make a difference.”
He swung her around and they took a path through the Tiergarten, its snow-laden trees giving it the appearance of an enchanted forest. A young couple pushing a pram approached from the opposite direction and they all stopped.
“Hello, Petra.”
“Hello, Harry. How nice to see you.” The greeting was warm and genuine.
“It’s very nice to see you too. This is Lucia.”
“Hello, Petra,” said Lucia. “Harry told me all about you.”
“This is my husband, Walther,” she said, and a tall bearded young man with glasses extended a hand which Harry shook. He peered into the pram.
“And who do we have here?”
“This is Marie,” she gushed. “She is just a few weeks old. I thought work was hard but this is much harder. How have you been, Harry? Are you still working for the government?”
“No. I left all that nonsense behind. I have you to thank for that. I gave up the cigarettes too.”
“Tobacco is a filthy weed…” she started and they both laughed.
“That’s enough, thank you!”
“When is the baby due?” asked Petra. Lucia had instinctively placed a hand on her own swollen figure.
“June.”
“Lucia and I live in England now,” said Harry. “I just came back to show her one or two of my old haunts.”
“And are you still haunted by the dark?”
“No.” He put his arm around his wife. “An angel showed me the light.”