The thought of this amused Wilson who, no longer bothered by the old Italian physicist, was able to get on with his secret work with no spy looking over his shoulder and his conscience as clear as it always had been.

His Feuerball was taking shape.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN Ingrid's mother answered the door, stared at Ernst in surprise, then looked embarra.s.sed and tried to hide it by crying out, 'Ernst! You're back at last!' She took him into her arms to give him a hug, then stepped back and waved him inside. 'Come,' she said. 'The children will be so pleased to see you. They've missed you so much.'

Noting that she hadn't mentioned Ingrid and still looked embarra.s.sed, Ernst picked up his suitcase and stepped into the apartment he had not seen for three months. It was late in the morning and both his children were in the living room, four-year-old Ula setting up coloured blocks for baby Alfred, now fourteen months old. Alfred knocked the blocks down and giggled delightedly while Ula glanced sideways and saw Ernst, studied him with slowly dawning recognition, then shyly stood up to greet him.

'It's your father!' Ingrid's mother exclaimed, as if Ernst had been gone for three years instead of four months.

Realizing that he must seem like a stranger to his own daughter, Ernst set his suitcase down, fell to his knees, and swept both children into his arms, hugging them pa.s.sionately.

'Don't be embarra.s.sed,' he said, stroking Ula's flushed cheek and golden locks. 'I know I've been gone a long time and must seem like a stranger to you. But you'll get used to me again, my darling, before very long. And how pretty and grown-up you look. And Alfred!' He grasped the gurgling baby under the arms and held him up in the air. 'What a fine boy he is! Do you look after him, Ula?'

'Yes,' Ula replied, smiling.

'Good,' Ernst said. 'Very good!' He stood up and glanced around the room. 'Ingrid isn't here?' he asked, wondering why his mother-inlaw was looking after the children.

'No,' his mother-in-law said too quickly, blushing again. 'She went to visit some friends.'

'Who?'

'I don't know,' she replied, avoiding his gaze. 'She told me, but I can't remember the name. I mean, she didn't know you were coming back today, so...'

'When did she leave?' Ernst asked, feeling more disturbed. 'This morning.'

'Then you must have been here all night, Maria.'

'Yes... Yes, I was!' And she nodded her head vigorously. 'I didn't want to have to get out of bed too early, so I decided to sleep here. But please, Ernst,' she added, changing the subject and waving toward the couch, 'sit down and take your boots off and let me fix you some tea. You must be exhausted.'

'I'm fine,' he replied, then knelt on the floor by his suitcase and proceeded to open it, determined to distract himself from his dark thoughts. 'I arrived in Berlin last night but had to report straight to barracks and yes, I would like a tea. Here, Ula,' he said, opening the suitcase, 'I have some presents for you and Alfred. All wrapped up, just like Christmas!'

Already getting over her shyness, Ula unwrapped the doll that Ernst had, in fact, bought only that morning, right here in Berlin, along with Alfred's box of rattling toys. Nevertheless, she was delighted with it, and for the next half hour or so, Ernst enjoyed his tea, felt better watching his son and daughter playing with their presents, made desultory conversation with his normally pleasant but now clearly uneasy mother-in-law, and determined not to show the anger and suspicion he was feeling over Ingrid's unexpected absence.

After all, they had agreed to live separate lives, so he could hardly complain...

The practice, however, was more difficult than the theory. As he sat there, sipping tea, appreciating the feminine cosiness of the apartment after the rigours of his sea voyage, he had to choke back his feelings of disappointment and loss. He had just returned from an epic journey, an historically important endeavour, and was not even being welcomed back by his wife... He filled up with self-pity, despised himself for it, and had managed to accept what he had wrought by the time Ingrid returned.

When she walked in and saw him, her face turned bright red. She was wearing a long gray coat and a broad black hat, but removed them first and composed herself. By the time she had crossed the room to kiss his cheek, her face had turned pale again and her vivid green eyes were cautious.

'Ernst!' she exclaimed, whispering into his ear. 'I didn't realize...'

Not having known the touch of a woman's body for a long time, Ernst instantly filled up with longing when, for the brief duration of her chaste kiss, Ingrid could not prevent her body from touching his.

'I know,' he said as she stepped away from him, leaving only the intoxicating smell of her scent, the seductive warmth of her lips, and the bitter knowledge that she no longer desired him. 'They didn't tell us when we'd be returning, so I couldn't tell you. Still, here I am.'

'Yes, Ernst.' Her once-radiant smile was hesitant. 'Here you are!' Her gaze slipped away from him, fell on her mother, roamed around the room, then finally, reluctantly, returned to him. 'So,' she said with forced gaiety, waving her hand to indicate the children. 'Have you noticed the change in them?'

The ba.n.a.lity of the question almost amused him, and he did indeed smile. 'Remarkable,' he said. 'And Ula looks as lovely as her mother.'

At least Ula liked that remark, blushing and giggling.

'Tea!' Ingrid said, trying to sound gay. 'At least mother's looked after you. Would you like something stronger?'

'A little schnapps would be nice.'

'You didn't ask me for that,' Ingrid's mother said too shrilly, and then, looking confused, added, 'Anyway, I have to be going now and I'm sure you two have lots to talk about. My bag's packed already.'

'Mother, you don't have to '

'No! ' Ingrid's mother protested. 'I can't stay another minute! I promised to have chocolate with Fraulein Vogt at the Konditerei before I go home, and if I stay here any longer, I'll be late. I've already called for a taxi and packed my overnight bag.'

The repet.i.tion was a product of her embarra.s.sment. Clearly she was as relieved as was Ernst when the taxi came for her. When she had gone, after more oddly melodramatic hugging and kissing (which merely confirmed for Ernst that his suspicions about Ingrid were well founded), he felt the oppressive weight of the silence that filled up the cosy room. Having poured two gla.s.ses of schnapps, Ingrid handed one to him and sat facing him. As he drank, feeling better with each sip, he studied his playing children, the golden girl and the giggling baby, glanced repeatedly around the room with its heavy, darkly-varnished cupboards, lace tablecloths, doilies and curtains, Germanic bricabrac and paintings, and realized that no matter how homely it was, it was no longer his home. He was a German soldier, an SS officer the elite of Himmler's elite and that made him different.

He no longer needed this.

'How was the trip?' Ingrid asked him.

'It wasn't a holiday, Ingrid.'