‘Absolutely.’

Her relief had been total. ‘Thank God,’ she’d said shakily, clasping her hands in her lap to prevent them from trembling. ‘I couldn’t have borne it if anything terrible had happened to him—not so soon after learning of Hugo’s death.’

Her eyes were red-rimmed and there were deep shadows beneath them. She had been crying ever since Ilse had broken the news to her that Hugo had been shot down over the city he’d once been so happy in. Though the Tiergarten was now a wasteland, its trees decimated by enemy bombing or by having been cut down by Berliners for much-needed fuel, she was drawn to being there.

There had been fierce fighting in it during the last days of the war, but now all the burned-out tanks had been removed and there was no longer any sign of the British aeroplane that had, for so long, lain half submerged in the middle of its lake.

There were no cultivated flower beds left and hadn’t been for years, but self-seeded flowers had grown and she would sit on the grass overlooking the water, her arms encircling her knees, remembering her life with Hugo and knowing she would carry her love for him in her heart for always. Having loved so completely once, she knew the love she and Claus now shared would be just as complete; that it hadn’t been born only out of extreme circumstances and extreme need, but was a love that would last them the rest of their lives.

Lotti also knew she had a love that would be lifelong. Permission had been given for her and Max to marry in the chapel of the St Andrew army barracks and it was going to be as much of a family occasion as they could manage. Nancy, because of her married status, was to be her matron of honour. There were to be no bridesmaids, as she couldn’t very well have Eva and Hester as bridesmaids and not Ilse, and asking Ilse to be her bridesmaid would, she felt, have been crassly insensitive.

Her wedding dress was one all four of them had worked on like beavers. Made out of white parachute silk, it had a sweetheart neckline, a dropped Basque waist, narrow sleeves that tapered to a point over the back of her hands and a long flowing skirt that reached to the floor.

‘By rights, you should be carrying a bouquet of red roses,’ Nancy said as she helped her to dress and do her hair on the morning of the ceremony. ‘Ilse has tried everywhere to find some, but it’s an impossibility.’

‘I don’t mind,’ Lotti said. ‘Eva has made me a bouquet of purple buddleia and daisies. She’s tied it with white silk ribbon and it looks beautiful.’

‘Happy?’ Nancy asked unnecessarily as she stepped away from her to admire her handiwork.

Lotti’s radiant smile was her answer. ‘Ecstatic,’ she said, taking a last look at herself in the mirror and picking up her bouquet.