Knowing of how close they had always been it was something that hadn’t surprised her in the least. It had flabbergasted Adam.

‘Good God!’ he’d said, his sandy eyebrows rising so high they nearly disappeared into the thick thatch of his curly hair. ‘First he’s in love with one cousin and then, when that doesn’t work out, he falls in love with her sister! It’s downright incestuous!’

‘He was never truly in love with Ilse,’ she’d said, unruffled, and feeling a deep sense of rightness about the news. ‘He was just mesmerized by her beauty and deeply infatuated with her. Lotti is different. He and Lotti are soulmates and always have been.’

There was mist still hanging about in the hollows near the river and a smell in the air of a warm, sunny day to come. As she reached the river bank and turned left, to walk down towards the woods, she wondered where her much-loved elder son now was. Was he still in Berlin? Was he in Munich? Was he still living under the name Max Remer, or was he now living under an alias? And for how long, if he were still in Germany, would British Military Intelligence keep him there?

Her fear for his safety was compounded by fears for Nicholas and Ilse’s safety. She knew very well that Nicholas wanted nothing more than to oust Hitler and, with those who thought like him, to bring the war to an end by coming to a peace agreement with the Allies. As the only way to oust Hitler was to assassinate him, wondering how deeply they were involved in such a plot left her in a state of permanent nervous tension.

One thing was certain: Claus wouldn’t be one of the conspirators. Whenever she thought of her nephew sporting his Hitler-autographed gold swastika pin in his jacket lapel or, even worse, dressed in his Nazi Party paramilitary uniform, she felt heartsick. The war may have riven the Yorkshire and Berlin sides of their family apart, but that was a separation that would, God willing, end when the war came to an end. The chasm dividing Claus not only from the Yorkshire side of his family, but from the Berlin side of his family as well, was much deeper and was, she feared, unbridgeable.

She was in the woods now and bluebells spread out around her in a seemingly endless azure sea. She stood still for a moment, drinking in the sight and scent of them. They represented, to her, the very essence of England, and at the thought of all that England was fighting for, her heart felt as if it were going to burst.

‘We’re going to win this war, Tink,’ she said fiercely as he sniffed the air for rabbits. ‘And Germans like Nicholas and his friends, Germans who represent everything that is good and fine about Germany, are going to help us win it.’

Paul scrambled out of the early morning milk train into Harrogate. He had a forty-eight-hour pass and the only place he wanted to spend it was at Shuttleworth Hall.