Almost without thinking she began driving out of Berlin in the direction of Wannsee. It had been the favourite place for outings for all of them when they had been children and was still one of her favourite places for simply walking and thinking.

As she continued south-west, through the tree-lined roads of the elegant, wealthy suburb of Dahlem, a frown furrowed her forehead. She was a serenely happy person by nature and yet instead of being even happier now that she and Max were openly in love, she often found herself having to simulate happy radiance—as had happened with Nicholas, when Max’s name had been mentioned.

She stopped short of Wannsee, pulling off the road into a wooded area through which the lake could be glimpsed. One of the things that most troubled her was how little she now saw of Max. Before the change in their relationship he had nearly always stayed at the Unter den Linden mansion when in Berlin. It was, after all, his family home. He had been born there. His father still lived there. Even when he had opted to stay with Hester’s parents or with one of his many Berlin friends, he had still been in and out of the Unter den Linden mansion to see her parents and his father and Claus—and her—on practically a daily basis.

It hadn’t been something she had expected would change. Max, though, had felt it inappropriate for them both to be sleeping beneath the same roof. As he wasn’t remotely a prude, she had realized that it was the reminder of their family relationship that troubled him. He was the oldest Remer cousin, she the youngest, and all through her childhood he had behaved towards her as if he were not her cousin, but an indulgent uncle, rather as Paul, because of his age difference, had behaved to all of them. It was a relationship she knew Max now didn’t want reminding of too strongly. And that it troubled him, troubled her.

It was early evening, but the July sun was still strong and the walk towards the lake, beneath the dappled shade of the trees, was pleasant. She discovered something else that was pleasant when she reached the lakeside. Because there were no cafés, as there were at Wannsee, there were also no jackbooted, black-uniformed SS men in view—and no Gestapo, either.

She sat down on a shallow bank where the trees gave way to sand, and hugged her knees to her chest. As if the complications with her relationship with Max weren’t enough, she also had other difficulties to contend with.

Claus moved in very prestigious Nazi circles, Nazi circles that were aware of her existence in a way they were no longer aware of Lotti’s existence.

‘I’ve been invited to a Four-Year Plan celebration dinner on Friday,’ Claus had said to her a few days ago. ‘Göring is hosting it and he’s expressed the desire to meet you. You don’t have to stay long. I’ll tell him you have a theatre performance that evening.’