‘That’s a good idea.’ Max shot his mother a look of relief, hoping to goodness his father wasn’t going to start referring to her as a German Frau.

Once in the second of the cars with Nancy seated comfily between them, Berthold said, ‘I didn’t realize Paul would be so unaware of how Zelda thinks of herself. In everything but birth she is German now. And she will expect him to speak German.’

‘Then her expectations will be disappointed, Berthold. None of the children has had the opportunity to continue with lessons in German. The minute war was declared German was taken off every school syllabus in England—and it still hasn’t been reinstated. And though Paul hasn’t lived in America since he was a small child, he is still very American—and proud of being so.’

He frowned in concern. ‘Being American—or British—is still difficult in Berlin. The sooner Paul, Max and Hugo get to grips with German again, the easier they will find living here.’

Aware they were heading towards a conversational minefield she wasn’t yet ready for, she changed the subject, saying, ‘The city has altered so much, Berthold, it’s hard to recognize it.’

Shops that had once glittered expensively now had windows displaying only shoddy goods. Peeling billboards were everywhere. One large poster, ripped and defaced, depicted a giant red fist smashing into an assembly at the Reichstag, the words ‘Vote Spartacus’ emblazoned across it in giant lettering. Everywhere people were walking aimlessly, seemingly without purpose. The frenetic activity, so much a part of Berlin, was shockingly absent.

‘Things still haven’t settled down,’ Berthold said, his voice strained. ‘A few months ago a peaceful political demonstration turned into a bloodbath. There’s bad public feeling about the number of war criminals awaiting trial—and how Josef and I are not among their number is a miracle—and there’s growing bad feeling about the Jews and the amount of influence they have.’

‘Do they have a lot of influence?’ Vicky asked, seeing another political poster, this time with the word ‘Juden’ written in large letters.

‘I don’t know.’ He flashed her a wry smile. ‘I only know that I don’t have influence any more, not even in Remer factories.’

She didn’t want the subject of the steelworks and factories to mar their reunion until later and she was deeply grateful when he didn’t pursue the subject.

Their car sped through the familiar leafy acres of the Tiergarten towards the Brandenburg Gate and she noticed that even the Tiergarten no longer seemed a happy place to be.

‘We’re nearly home,’ he said to her, across the top of Nancy’s curly hair.

She smiled, trying not to let her growing panic show. How, after the life they were accustomed to living at St Dunstan’s and Shuttleworth Hall, could Max, Hugo and Paul adapt to living in what had become not only a desperately impoverished city, but also a brutal city? And how could she allow Nancy to grow up in it?

‘Where are the sheep?’ Nancy asked, as if on cue. ‘We have sheep at home. And we have a river.’