‘Then if he does, we’d better hope she isn’t a Nazi,’ Max said drily. ‘Three in the family is already three too many.’

There was an awkward silence. That Berthold had years ago followed in Josef’s wake where admiration of Hitler was concerned was something they all had difficulty with.

Not wanting Max to begin talking about Claus—certain Nancy would not be able to cope if he did—Vicky changed the subject. ‘As soon as we’ve cleared away the lunch things, we’ll put the house decorations up,’ she said decisively. ‘I want Shuttleworth Hall to be at its Christmassy best by the time Hugo, Hester and Lotti arrive.’

Later that afternoon, Nancy spent time upstairs with her grandfather. ‘I can still get downstairs,’ Arthur Hudson said to her as he sat in a chair by the window, looking out over the snow-covered lawns to the river, ‘but at the moment I’m saving my strength for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.’ He struggled with his breathing for a few minutes and then said, ‘And what about you, Nancy? Why are you in London and not in Yorkshire? You could have gone back to reporting for the Yorkshire Post, couldn’t you?’

‘I could, Grandpa, but I didn’t want to.’ She tucked his blanket a little tighter around his knees. ‘It would have seemed too much like going backwards instead of forwards.’

He looked at her with rheumy eyes, seeing how the light had gone out of her, sensing her misery.

‘It wouldn’t have worked out for the two of you, lass,’ he said gently. ‘Not as long as there’s a House of Remer steelworks making armaments. It didn’t work for your mother and it wouldn’t have worked for you.’

‘I know.’ Her eyes were bright with tears. ‘I know, Grandpa. But it doesn’t make it any easier to bear.’

‘Time will heal the hurt,’ he said, trying to offer comfort. ‘It always does.’

From downstairs there came the sound of Vicky laughing and Emily Elise squealing with joy as Adam swung her high onto his shoulders.

She squeezed his gnarled hand, grateful for his love and concern, certain history wasn’t going to repeat itself in the same manner. She couldn’t know for sure, but she didn’t think her mother had loved her father in the way that she had loved Claus and she couldn’t even begin to imagine loving someone else.

Pain bit deep into her heart, so forcefully she didn’t know how she was bearing it. It was the first Christmas, since she could remember, that they hadn’t been spending together. He had always been a part of her life, and trying to live life without him was proving to be almost impossible for her to manage. She had known even before the door of his apartment had closed behind her that she couldn’t continue living in Berlin, knowing he was near by, knowing she might see him unexpectedly at any moment. And she had known too that she couldn’t return to life at Shuttleworth Hall, working for the Yorkshire Post or the Bradford Telegraph & Argus, for Shuttleworth Hall was filled with just as many memories of him as Berlin was.