She smiled. ‘She did not always obey him, of course. One point of contention was her desire to go to Vienna to take singing lessons from Sasha Heine, who had taught her before she moved to Munich. She came once in 1930, just for a weekend when Hitler was in the north electioneering, and she stayed with me. She saw Sasha then.’

‘How did she manage to persuade Hitler?’

Romy’s eyes clouded over as though a wonderful memory had suddenly been triggered and transported her to better days.

‘It was my wedding. How could he have not let her come to her friend’s wedding?’

‘Did he know who you were?’

‘Oh yes, we had met twice on my visits to Munich. As always, when meeting young women, he turned on the charm. He was always very gracious with me.’

‘And the singing teacher, this Sasha Heine – was there something between him and Geli?’

‘Oh, you know, youthful infatuation. Perhaps a spark was still there. But Hitler would have gone crazy if he found out – for Sasha was Jewish. It’s a shame. He would have been good for her. At Prinzregentenplatz she was like a caged bird. I told you how popular she was, but she had enemies, too. Some Party members were madly jealous of her close association with Hitler.’

‘Bormann?’

She nodded. ‘The worst of the lot. He was vile to her – always creeping around her, touching her, brushing against her breasts, caressing her buttocks. She loathed him and went out of her way to avoid him, but that was not always possible. He thought he was God’s gift and that if only he could seduce her, she could use her influence on his behalf to further his career. At that time he was running the SA’s insurance office from the Brown House in Munich. No one had heard of him, but slowly and surely, he was finding ways to make himself useful and bringing in money for Hitler and the Party. He understood that the man who controls the purse strings holds the key to power. Strangely, though, Geli’s mother did like Bormann. He charmed her and took her for meals and drinks whenever she managed to come to Munich from Obersalzberg – where she was still housekeeper at Hitler’s rented house. Geli was horrified and told her to steer clear of the fat little greaseball, but Frau Raubal would have none of it. She had no other man in her life and here, for the first time in all her years of slaving in kitchens and living in hovels, someone was paying attention to her. Of course she was flattered.’

Vanderberg looked at his watch.

‘Frau Dietrich, I think we have to go. Let’s finish the story when we’re safely ensconced in a hotel in Switzerland, shall we?’

‘The rest of the story is very sad. I can hardly bear to think of it. My poor Geli . . .’

‘I understand.’