‘Papa must be heartbroken,’ she whispered. ‘He loved this place so much. He always said the East End was his real home.’ Then another thought occurred to her, and she turned to her mother. ‘Will you go with him?’

Dorothy looked away. ‘Your father thinks I should stay here, with you and Liesel.’

Yes, Anna wanted to cry out. Stay with us. Let me keep one fragment of my life, please.

But then she saw her mother’s forlorn expression and realised how selfish she was being.

‘You want to go, don’t you?’

‘I don’t want to leave you.’ Her mother turned back to her, her eyes pleading for understanding. ‘But my place is with your father …’

Anna nodded. ‘You can’t let him go by himself, it wouldn’t be right.’ She could only imagine how scared and alone he would feel, going back to his home country after all these years. He should not have to face that alone. ‘Perhaps we could go with you?’ she said.

Her mother shook her head. ‘It wouldn’t be allowed. Anyway, you and Liesel have your own lives here.’

‘That doesn’t matter!’ Anna insisted. ‘We’re a family, we should be together.’

‘But we might not stay together. Don’t forget, you and your sister would be treated as foreigners in Germany, just like your father has been over here …’

‘You mean, they might lock us up like they did Papa?’ Anna said. ‘How do you know they won’t lock you up, too?’

Dorothy lifted her chin. ‘That is a chance I’m willing to take, if it means being with your father.’

Anna looked across at her mother. She’d always known her parents loved each other, but hadn’t realised how much until this moment.

‘Oh, Mother,’ she said. ‘Of course you must go.’

They spent the rest of the afternoon talking and crying and hugging each other.

‘We will see you and Papa again, won’t we?’ Anna sobbed.

‘Of course. This war surely can’t go on forever.’ Her mother put her arms around Anna, drawing her close. The soft wool of her cardigan smelled of lavender soap. ‘We’ll all be together again one day, I’m sure of it.’

Anna nodded. ‘You’re right. This war will be over soon. And then you and Papa can come home, and take over this place …’

Her mother pulled away from her, holding her at arms’ length. ‘No, Anna,’ she said gently. ‘We will see each other again one day, I’m sure of it. But you must understand, your father will never run the bakery again.’

Anna stared at her, aghast. They had been talking about her father leaving for hours, turning it all this way and that. But until that moment it had never occurred to her that somehow, sometime, he wouldn’t be here again, standing in his kitchen, testing the trays of loaves to see if they were baked, or working on one of his artful spun-sugar creations.

‘But what will happen to this place?’

‘I don’t know … I suppose we’ll have to sell it.’