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wait.’
    ‘Mine should fit you,’ Peter observed.
    ‘Not length-wise, and width-wise only if he tightens the trouser belt. As you will have to, Peter. I’ve never seen such skinny, hungry-looking men.’ Martha ruffled her son’s hair.
    ‘Go, both of you. By the time you finish, the meal will be ready.’ Pippi went into the kitchen and began rattling pots and pans.
    ‘Be sure you kill every stray louse and flea. I don’t want to find any on the children. Here.’ Martha took a bottle from the storeroom in the passageway and gave it to Wolf. ‘The best cognac. I saved it for your return.’
    Half the size of the barn, the wash house held a massive three-foot-deep stone sink. Wolf’s father used to joke that it had been built to wash the cows. Next to it was a wood-burning, iron boiler filled by a pump connected to a well. As the sink was large enough to hold the weekly wash for the castle, half a dozen adults or double the number of children, the wash house was used by everyone, servant and master alike.
    The water was bubbling. Peter raked out the fire beneath the boiler, pushed in the wooden plug that sealed the sink, and opened the brass tap. Water gushed out in noisy spurts and steam filled the air when he pumped in cold water to temper the hot. He breathed in and Wolf sensed he was bracing himself for unpleasantness.
    ‘Wolf, have you thought …’
    ‘If you’re going to tell me to talk to Gretel, forget it.’
    ‘Your son …’
    ‘Your mother’s invited him to supper.’
    ‘But …’
    ‘I couldn’t give a damn about Gretel.’ Wolf had hoped to fool Peter but his friend knew him too well.
    ‘You’re just putting on a brave face.’
    ‘After seeing Gretel with Franz, all I feel is relief that she’s no longer my responsibility.’
    ‘If Pippi …’
    ‘You and Pippi had five years together, Gretel and I not even two years. Do you know what I remember most about that time? Trying to avoid her. Which is why I organised so many men-only hunting parties.’
    ‘You don’t love her?’
    ‘If I ever did, I don’t now.’
    ‘It’s battle fatigue. The responsibility of caring for so many men. Now you’re home you’ll soon start feeling normal again.’ Peter stripped off the last of his clothes, lowered himself into the steaming sink, and reached for a bar of carbolic soap.
    Wolf was half-undressed when there was a banging on the door.
    ‘It’s Pippi. I’ve brought clothes for you and Peter.’
    He pulled his trousers back on and opened the door.
    ‘Shut it quick,’ Peter shouted when a draught of freezing air sliced in from outside.
    Wolf took the bundle from Pippi and saw Franz hovering around the porch of the castle. He closed the washhouse door and thrust the bolt home, but that didn’t deter Franz. He crossed the yard and hammered on the door.
    ‘Wolf, I need to talk to you.’
    Wolf finished undressing and climbed into the sink opposite Peter.
    ‘Can we talk?’ Franz demanded. ‘If not now, when you come out?’
    Wolf lay back in the water.
    ‘Aren’t you going to answer him?’ Peter asked when Franz persisted in shouting.
    ‘No.’
    Peter grabbed a scrubbing brush. When he finished washing he ducked his head under water. He was rubbing soapsuds into his hair when Franz finally fell silent. ‘Peace, perfect peace.’ Peter rinsed himself off, handed Wolf the soap, climbed out of the sink, dried and dressed. ‘Pippi and Martha will have the meal ready.’
    Wolf luxuriated in the steaming water and closed his eyes. ‘I’ll be out in a few minutes.’
    ‘You’re there for the next half hour.’ Peter picked up an enamel jug and held it below the pump.
    ‘Tip cold water over me and it will be the last thing you do.’
    ‘If you’re not out in two minutes I’ll send Pippi and Martha in.’ Peter unbolted the door and banged the door shut behind him.
    It had been years since Wolf had been able to soak his entire body in a bath. Wondering why French bathtubs were so