As he walked out of the station, deciding that as there wasn’t a train to Little Ridding he’d have to hitch a lift there, he wondered if he was right in assuming that, with Hitler dead, the entire monstrous Nazi regime would also collapse. Surely what would actually happen was that Himmler would replace Hitler? Or if Himmler did not replace him, then Goebbels would.

He began walking out of the centre of Harrogate in the direction of the Little Ridding road, remembering a conversation he had once had with Nicholas.

‘Once Hitler’s death frees the army from their sacred oath of allegiance to him, its senior ranking officers won’t give the same oath to Himmler. They loathe him. Which leaves as candidates Göring and Goebbels. Göring has long since alienated other senior Nazis with his ridiculous vanity—he’s now taken to wearing make-up—and Goebbels is a realist. He’d know the Nazi regime wouldn’t survive without Hitler and my guess is that, when he hears of Hitler’s death, he’ll commit suicide. Once he does so, there’ll be no other contenders for the title of Führer and the way will be clear for the generals and high-ranking civil servants in the conspiracy to form an anti-Nazi government acceptable to the Allies.’

‘And you reckon they’ll do so with the backing of the armed forces?’ he had asked, unable to keep the doubt from his voice.

Nicholas had nodded. ‘There is more than one group of conspirators plotting to kill Hitler,’ he’d said, revealing more than he’d ever revealed to him before. ‘And every one of them is made up mainly of army officers. The SS, of course, is a different matter, but without Hitler and Himmler, the SS will crumble.’

‘And the Luftwaffe and the Kreigsmarine?’ he had asked, fascinated.

Nicholas had hesitated and then had said, ‘The air force and the navy are more problematic. The air force owes its very existence to Hitler and will be slower to give its support. As for the navy…’ His forehead had furrowed in a deep frown. ‘There’s bitter rivalry between the navy and the army and there may be difficulties there—but there won’t be difficulties that can’t be overcome, Paul. Of that I’m sure.’

A lorry slowed to a halt beside him. ‘Looking for a lift, mate?’ its driver asked.

‘I am if you’re heading towards Little Ridding,’ Paul said, banishing all thoughts of what support, from within Germany, an anti-Nazi government would receive if one of the many plots to assassinate Hitler succeeded.

‘Hop in,’ the driver said. ‘You’re in luck,’ and then, as Paul slammed the passenger door closed behind him, ‘Got any chewing gum, mate?’

Adam rolled over in bed, expecting to come into contact with his much-loved wife. When he didn’t do so, he opened his eyes and looked at the clock. It was still only half-past six.

He blinked, lay there for a minute or two and then, seeing absolutely no point in staying in bed on his own, flung the covers back and swung his legs to the floor.