And they would be wrong. Nancy knew they were wrong. Nancy knew that Fascism was an evil that had to be fought wherever it was to be found and, in volunteering to help the Republican cause, she would be in the thick of the fighting.

As they sat in silence watching the bunting being hoisted high over shop fronts and street lamps he had to fight the temptation to unburden himself, to tell Ilse of the plans he and a small group of like-minded friends were making. Plans that would, he devoutly hoped, bring sanity back to Germany.

It was the kind of disclosure that could be made only to a wife—and maybe not even then. Determined not to let such dark thoughts spoil the last twenty minutes or so of his precious time with her he took a drink of his wine, smiled across at her and said, ‘What is it to be for dessert? Chocolate cake or apple cake?’

They both opted for apple cake and when their meal was over and time had run out on them he walked her back to the theatre, asking her if she’d like to go with him that evening to Vladimir Ovelensky’s birthday party. When she said she had already decided not to go to the party as Max wasn’t in Berlin to go with her, he wasn’t surprised by her refusal, but he was deeply disappointed.

At the theatre, when he said goodbye to her he did so without giving her a customary kiss on the cheek. She knew why he hadn’t done so. It wasn’t because he was cross with her. It was because a light kiss on the cheek would have been a torment for him when what he longed to do was to kiss her full on the mouth.

She felt vaguely out of sorts during the afternoon rehearsal. She had enjoyed having lunch with Nicholas. He was relaxing, easy company and, very important in the present political climate, utterly trustworthy. The problem was, though, that being with Nicholas always aroused in her anxieties about her relationship with Max. Anxieties she never shared with anyone.

When Gustav Gründgens hurled the expletive ‘Dummkopf!’ at the actor she was playing a scene with and then stormed off amid clouds of cigarette smoke, leaving them to stay or go as they wished, she decided to go.

Not home, though. Since her parents had moved out of the Unter den Linden mansion, it had ceased to be a proper home to her. Claus still seemed quite happy living there, but she suspected that was only because he felt that, as head of the House of Remer, it was his duty to do so.

She walked to where her silver-grey Sports Cabriolet was parked, trying to decide what to do and where to go. In the past, whenever she had felt out of sorts, Lotti had always been her first port of call. Lotti, though, was now part of her problem.

She unlocked the car and slid behind the wheel, knowing that Lotti would be devastated if she knew why it was they weren’t seeing quite as much of each other. Not in a million years could she admit to Lotti that she was still jealous of the close relationship that existed between her and Max, for it was a jealousy she knew was senseless. Max loved her, not Lotti. His relationship with Lotti was simply one of best buddies. She knew that—hadn’t a shadow of a doubt about it. And to her deep and scorching shame, she was jealous of it.