Over the past ten years, Bormann had almost managed to put the incident out of mind. But every so often Hitler would be reminded of Geli when he gazed at the framed photographs he kept on the walls of his homes in Berlin and Munich, and a tear would come to his eye. On these occasions, Bormann would shrink at the very thought of what his penalty would be should the Führer ever discover his part in her death.

That fear was always there, in the background, like a venomous snake hiding beneath the bed. Threatening, malevolent, disturbing your sleep.

He feared it would slither out one day, and inevitably it did. The serpent came in the form of a typed envelope containing just one sheet of thin card – a photographic copy of the birth and baptism certificate of a girl named Klara Wolf . . .

*

‘What is this?’ Klara asked.

Lydia was boiling a pan of water so they could wash. No hot water was coming through the sink or basin, and the cold water had to be run forever to lose its rust colour. Johnny was asleep in an enormous bed and Lydia’s thoughts were elsewhere. She turned around, smiling.

‘Why, that looks like a menorah, Klara.’

‘I found it by all those lovely model animals. It’s funny. What’s it for?’

‘You put candles in each of the holes and light them at a certain time of year. It’s a religious thing for Jewish people.’

‘For Jews? Then why is it here?’

‘Because this house belongs to a very good friend of mine called Harry Taylor, and he happens to be a Jew.’

‘How can he be your friend if he’s a Jew?’

‘Because he’s a very nice man, very clever, too.’

Klara said nothing while she digested this piece of information.

‘Perhaps you’ve heard bad things about Jewish people, Klara?’

The girl nodded.

‘Have you ever met any?’

She shook her head.

Lydia looked at her earnestly. ‘You know, they are just people like you and me. Some are good and kind, some aren’t. Some are clever, some are stupid. Some are rich, some are poor. Just like everyone else in the world. We’re all humans – and humans are all the same species, wherever they come from or whatever they look like.’

‘Our teacher told us Jews are subhumans. They are not as good as humans.’

Lydia frowned. ‘Oh dear, that’s not a very nice thing to say. I wish you could meet Harry Taylor – I’m sure you’d like him very much, because I think you’d find he’s every bit as human as you and me.’

Klara looked dumbfounded, as though she had heard for the first time that the world wasn’t flat.

‘You don’t look as though you believe me, Klara.’

‘It’s not what I have been told before.’