‘You’re leaving?’ He sounded uncertain.

‘One of us has to go. And you’ve made it very clear that you won’t, so it will have to be me.’

She could feel his gaze on her, wary as an animal. ‘You ain’t getting this place,’ he said. ‘It’s mine now, all of it.’

‘So you’ve said.’

His eyes narrowed, still sensing a trick.

‘There’s no catch,’ Anna said. ‘I’m moving out. You can have it, all of it.’

She had wondered how she would feel, saying those words. But she was amazed to feel a real sense of peace and calm settling over her. None of it mattered, she realised.

It’s just bricks and mortar. Nellie’s words had been the key, unlocking Anna from the miserable prison she had placed herself in. Suddenly, she had been able to see it all clearly for the first time. What was she fighting for? A few poky rooms over a shop. And the bakery itself, a sink and a set of ovens. There was no real value in it, not the kind that was truly worth anything.

Nellie was right; the bakery wasn’t her father. All this time, Anna had been clinging on to it, thinking she was holding on to him, too. But she didn’t have to fight for it any longer. Friedrich Beck’s spirit was alive and well and flourishing in Germany.

And he would want her to be happy. He hadn’t opened up the bakery to fulfil any greedy ambition. He had opened it to provide a home and a life for his family. Because that was what was really important to him.

Nellie was right about that, too. Friedrich would never have wanted her to spend the rest of her life living in misery, just for the sake of a shop in a back street of Bethnal Green.

She could almost imagine him now, smiling at the very idea.

Her only sadness was in letting go of her dream to have the kind of life her parents had had. She had tried so hard to make it work, blaming herself when she failed.

‘I wish you luck,’ she said, and was surprised to realise she meant it. ‘I hope it makes you happy. But I don’t think it will. I don’t think you’ll ever truly be happy, Edward. Because you’ll always know in your heart of hearts that this place isn’t really yours. You can paint your name over the door as big as you like, but everyone will still know you didn’t build it up, you didn’t work for it. You stole it. And I’ll tell you something else, too,’ she added. ‘No matter how much you have, it will never be enough. Because in your heart you’ll always be the kid from the workhouse who never feels good enough.’

He flinched, but didn’t say a word. Anna knew she had wounded him as surely as if she had taken a knife and stabbed him to the heart.

‘I made a mistake,’ she said. ‘Not just marrying you, but thinking you could ever be like my father. You’re not, and you never will be. My father is a wonderful man, honest, kind and gentle. Everyone loves him. But you?’ She looked him up and down. ‘You’re not fit to lick his boots, Edward Stanning!’