Wilde and Lydia listened with astonishment to her tale, narrated so casually. In Spain she was once again taken under the wing of British agents to protect her from the numerous German spies roaming the country, and was escorted to Lisbon, from where she was flown to London.

Romy’s hands were shaking. Lydia could not take her eyes off her damaged left hand. It was healing well, but the injury clearly still bothered her. Romy caught her eyes and held up her fingers.

‘This?’

‘I’m sorry, I was staring.’

‘Bormann’s men did this to me.’ Her other hand, a little less shaky, was delving into her jacket pocket and she produced a pack of du Maurier cigarettes. ‘Do you mind if I smoke? Mr Eaton gave these to me – so much better than the ersatz German ones.’

‘Please do,’ Wilde said. ‘Lydia would probably like one, too – but I’m sure you’re not going to, are you, darling?’

‘You know, Tom, I rather think I deserve one after all you’ve bloody well put me through.’

‘Go ahead then. Your funeral.’

‘That from the man who drinks whisky like water!’

Romy handed a cigarette to Lydia and Wilde gave them both a light. He saw that Klara’s eyes were closed and the lightness of her breathing suggested she was asleep.

‘You haven’t really told us about you and Klara. Are you actually her aunt?’

‘I am her godmother. No blood relation – but we couldn’t be closer. I am a midwife, you see, and I brought her into the world. Her mother couldn’t keep her, but she was my friend. Although I would love to have adopted her as a baby, I couldn’t because my husband wouldn’t allow it. So she was given into the care of two very good friends of mine – Matthias and Maria Rieger. After my divorce, I stayed with them often. Klara and I have always had a special bond. I was the only person with whom the Riegers could always be totally at ease, because I knew the truth, you see.’

There was a little silence as though Romy was considering how much to tell.

‘You don’t have to say any more, you know.’

Romy drew deep on her cigarette.

‘Oh, I know that, but I think I would like to tell you some things. I have already told so much of the story to Jim Vanderberg, and I was going to tell him the last part when we were safely in Switzerland together. But that wasn’t to be, so I would like to tell you, if I may. First, though, I think we should put Klara to bed, don’t you? Little ears . . .’

She placed her cigarette in the ashtray and gently eased Klara into her arms. Klara was so at peace that she flopped like a three-year-old. Lydia showed Romy to the room she had made up for the two of them.