Hornet Flight by Ken Follett

glad he had brought a clean white shirt.
    â€œWould you like to bathe first?” Tik said.
    â€œSure.” The idea that you had to have a bath before dinner seemed odd to Harald, but he told himself he was learning the ways of the rich.
    He washed his hair in the bath, and Tik shaved at the same time. “You don’t shave twice a day at school,” Harald said.
    â€œMother’s so fussy. And my beard is dark. She says I look like a coal miner if I don’t shave in the evening.”
    Harald put on his clean shirt and school trousers, then went into the bedroom to comb his damp hair in the mirror over the dressing table. While he was doing so, a girl walked in without knocking. “Hello,” she said. “You must be Harald.”
    It was the girl in the photograph, but the monochrome picture had not done her justice. She had white skin and green eyes, and her curly hair was a vivid shade of coppery red. A tall figure in a long dark-green dress, she glided across the room like a ghost. With the easy strength of an athlete, she picked up a heavy chair by its back and turned it around to sit on it. She crossed her long legs and said, “Well? Are you Harald?”
    He managed to speak. “Yes, I am.” He felt conscious of his bare feet. “You’re Tik’s sister.”
    â€œTik?”
    â€œThat’s what we call Josef at school.”
    â€œWell, I’m Karen, and I don’t have a nickname. I heard about your eruption at school. I think you’re absolutely right. I hate the Nazis—who do they think they are?”
    Tik emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a towel. “Have you no regard for a gentleman’s privacy?” he said.
    â€œNo, I don’t,” she retorted. “I want a cocktail, and they won’t serve them until there’s at least one male in the room. I believe servants make up these rules themselves, you know.”
    â€œWell, just look the other way for a minute,” Tik said, and to Harald’s surprise he dropped the towel.
    Karen was unperturbed by her brother’s nakedness and did not bother to look away. “How are you, anyway, you black-eyed dwarf?” she said amiably as he pulled on clean white undershorts.
    â€œI’m fine, though I’ll be finer when the exams are over.”
    â€œWhat will you do if you fail?”
    â€œI suppose I’ll work at the bank. Father will probably make me start at the bottom, filling the inkwells of the junior clerks.”
    Harald said to Karen, “He won’t fail the exams.”
    She replied, “I suppose you’re clever, like Josef.”
    Tik said, “Much cleverer, actually.”
    Harald could not honestly deny it. Feeling bashful, he asked, “What’s it like at ballet school?”
    â€œA cross between serving in the army and being in jail.”
    Harald stared at Karen in fascination. He did not know whether to regard her as one of the boys or one of the gods. She bantered with her brother like a kid. Nevertheless she was extraordinarily graceful. Just sitting in the chair, waving an arm or pointing or resting her chin on her hand, she seemed to be dancing. All her movements were harmonious. Yet her poise did not restrain her, and Harald watched the changing expressions of her face like one mesmerized. She had a full-lipped mouth and a wide smile that was slightly lopsided. In fact her whole face was a little irregular—her nose was not quite straight and her chin was uneven—but the overall effect was beautiful. In fact, he thought, she was the most beautiful girl he had ever met.
    â€œYou’d better put some shoes on,” Tik said to Harald.
    Harald retreated to his room and finished dressing. When he returned, Tik was looking spiffy in a black jacket, white shirt, and plain dark tie. Harald felt very much the schoolboy in his blazer.
    Karen led the way downstairs. They entered a long, untidy room with several