‘Ships? You mean the House of Remer will be building ships?’

‘Yes, Liebchen. It’s a huge contract. The biggest the House of Remer has ever had.’

He beamed down at her.

Vicky didn’t beam back. Her mouth felt dry and her throat felt tight.

‘What kind of ships?’ She was remembering her father telling her of how the Kaiser was building up his navy and of how the action brought with it a terrible threat of war.

‘Battleships.’

She stopped dead.

‘What’s the matter, Liebchen?’ His good-natured face was concerned.

‘No.’ Her eyes were urgent. ‘Berthold, you must find a way out of this contract. Building battleships is no different to making armaments and that is something the House of Remer doesn’t do.’

She knew then, as she saw his expression, how very wrong she was, how stupidly ignorant and pathetically naive she had been. The blood drained from her face.

‘Please tell me we don’t produce armaments, Berthold,’ she said hoarsely. ‘Please.’

‘We don’t produce them in huge numbers,’ he said evasively. ‘We don’t dominate the industry as Krupps do—and we make lots of other things. Ovens and agricultural machinery and cash registers and—‘

She wasn’t interested in ovens and agricultural machinery and cash registers. ‘What kind?’ she asked urgently. ‘What kind of weapons do we make?’

‘I’m not sure.’ He was looking more and more uncomfortable, and more and more unhappy. ‘Guns…cannon. These things don’t get used, Vicky darling. Every country in the world has armaments. They’re a safeguard. A kind of currency.’

They were still on the station platform. Another train had pulled in and people were streaming past them in order to board.

‘Let’s go home, Liebchen,’ he said pleadingly. ‘I’ll explain to you later…I’ll ask Josef to explain to you later…when you are not so tired from travelling.’

As the chauffeur pulled out into a maelstrom of motorcars, horse-drawn carriages and trams, she pressed her fingers to her throbbing temples. Only minutes ago she had been on top of the world, head over heels with happiness at being reunited with Berthold, full of fierce determination to turn herself into a true Berliner. Now all she could think of was that if Germany went to war it might very well be war against Great Britain, and in such a war Remer armaments would kill and maim British soldiers and Remer-built battleships would be responsible for wholesale slaughter on the high seas.

By the time she reached the sanctuary of their bedroom her hands were trembling.

‘You’re tired, sweetheart,’ Berthold said tenderly, lifting her flower-bedecked hat from her hair. ‘There’re only another seven or eight weeks before the baby is due to be born. You should be resting all day, every day, not crossing the Channel and then travelling hundreds of miles on a train.’

‘The Channel was like a millpond.’

She seated herself on her dressing-table stool and took hold of his hand. ‘Berthold. Please listen to me. My father thinks the Kaiser is building up his navy because he intends to go to war. All the British newspapers think so too. If the House of Remer provides him with guns and cannon and battleships—and if there is a war—we will have the blood of thousands of men on our hands. You must tell the navy Remers don’t have the facilities for shipbuilding and you must renege on all existing contracts for guns and cannon.’