In April the following year, Berthold travelled with her to Yorkshire and this time, as well as their own children accompanying them, so did Paul.

As always when she was at Shuttleworth Hall, her father discussed the contents of the day’s newspapers with her every evening, shaking his head at the way Europe was being divided into two camps, with Germany, Italy and Austria on one side of the divide, and France, Russia and England on the other.

‘What will you do, my dear, if war comes?’ he asked her sombrely one evening as Berthold was reading a bedtime story to Max. ‘Will you stay in Berlin, as Zelda almost certainly will stay? Or will you come home to Yorkshire until the world regains its senses?’

‘And not see Berthold again until it does so, Papa?’ She hugged her arms to her chest. ‘It’s too hard a question for me to answer. All I can do is pray the situation never arises.’

All through the winter the build-up of arms continued. In the spring, as the arms race threatened to run out of control and as photograph after photograph appeared in German newspapers of the bemedalled Kaiser on military manoeuvres with his senior officers, Vicky finally raised the subject with Berthold.

‘If there is a war, what will we do? How can I stay here, in Berlin, if Germany is at war with England?’

‘But you must stay here!’ His face was agonized with distress.

She was pregnant again and knitting a shawl. She laid her needles down. ‘If I went to Yorkshire, would you come with me?’

‘How could I?’ His voice was despairing. ‘I would be interned as an enemy alien.’

Their eyes held, the hideousness of their situation starkly clear to them.

‘And if you went to Yorkshire,’ he said, breaking the silence, ‘would you take the children with you?’

It was a needless question. Both of them knew that she would never leave Germany without Max and Hugo.

‘I think we must pray, Liebchen,’ he said at last, his voice raw. ‘It is all we can do.’

Their prayers were in vain. On 28 June, a Bosnian Serb, Gavrilo Princip, assassinated the heir to the Austrian throne in Sarajevo.

From then on, with Austria calling for a military response against Serbia and the Kaiser promising Germany’s full support if she were to take action, it was obvious war was only days away.

‘I’m leaving for England before the borders close,’ she said to Berthold, tears stinging her eyes at the pain she knew she was causing him. ‘I can’t remain in Berlin.’

‘And I can’t leave it, Liebchen.’

For both of them, it was the most terrible moment they had ever endured.

‘Put your arms around me,’ she said hoarsely. ‘Hold me close, Berthold. For the next few hours, let’s not think of what the future holds.’

Chapter Five

Yorkshire, July 1914

Seeing Berthold saying goodbye to his children at the train station was so heart-rending it took Vicky all her strength to keep her composure.