Lotti thought of the intensely heavy bombing raids taking place over central Berlin, the British by night and the Americans by day. She and Ilse spent more time in cellars and air-raid shelters than they did in their own beds and the thought of having to shepherd a confused Berthold with them whenever they had to scurry for cover was horrendous.

‘Central Berlin is no longer any place for Uncle Berthold,’ she said, hoping the conversation wasn’t going to end in an unholy row. ‘He’s much better off here and you probably see very little of him. It isn’t as if it’s a small apartment, is it?’

‘It is when it comes to sharing it with your uncle,’ Zelda said sharply. She wrapped her coat even closer around her. ‘It would be just as bad if I were living in the Charlottenburg Palace. It wouldn’t be big enough. Nowhere would be big enough. After the war Max or Hugo or Nancy will have to take care of him. For now, though, it will have to be you and Ilse. I’ve had enough.’

Lotti set her cup and saucer down on the art deco table that separated the chairs they were seated on. ‘Why can’t Claus look after him? I know I said central Berlin was no longer any place for him, but I was forgetting about Unter den Linden. The house there has vast cellars and is probably as safe as anywhere else in Berlin. Why can’t he go back there?’

‘Because Claus doesn’t want him living there.’ With unnerving agility Zelda sprang to her feet. ‘God, but I’d like a little bit of cooperation from my children! All I’m profoundly grateful for is that I didn’t know Berthold was older than Josef when I first came to Berlin, because if I had, I’d have spent the last thirty-six years married to him and would now be a complete mental wreck!’

Lotti stared at her, wide-eyed and open-mouthed. That her mother might once have married Berthold was something that had never occurred to her, nor did she imagine that it had ever occurred to anyone else.

Aware that she had let a long-hidden cat out of the bag and regretting having done so, Zelda rammed a cheap blackmarket cigarette into an ebony holder that had been accustomed to better things. ‘As for Berthold…you can stop looking so panic-stricken. I’ve thought of a solution.’ She lit the cigarette and inhaled deeply. ‘Eva will take him in. He’ll be company for her mother. And it won’t be for long. According to last night’s BBC broadcast, the British and the Americans are nearing the Rhine. Once they’ve crossed it, Hitler will have to capitulate and it will all be over.’

‘He’ll never capitulate.’ Lotti’s eyes glittered. ‘A sane man—a man who cared for Germany and the German people—would have surrendered a year ago when it became obvious Germany had no hope of ever winning. But Hitler doesn’t give a damn about Germany and the German people. He’ll see the country destroyed beyond hope of recovery and every man, woman and child in it dead, rather than lose his precious pride and surrender.’