‘Hello, Erna. How have you been?’

She looks up at me. Her green eyes lack their usual sparkle; her skin is paler than ever.

‘Oh, Hett…’ She glances around her, lowering her voice. ‘I’ve missed you so much. Have you forgiven me?’

‘Have I forgiven you?’

‘I’m so sorry for not telling you about Karl and me.’

‘Oh, Erna! I’m the one who should be apologising. I totally overreacted. I’ve been so silly…’

She shakes her head, her eyes moist with tears.

‘I shouldn’t have lied. I’ve been a rotten friend.’

I think how close I came to informing on her father and my insides curdle.

Erna places the rolled bandages neatly in the bandage box and closes the lid. She wipes her eyes and I see her hands are trembling.

I watch in silence as big fat tears roll down Erna’s porcelain cheeks.

‘Erna, we – we none of us are perfect.’

She gives a hollow laugh and blows her nose.

‘Except you, Hetty.’ She slides her hankie back into her pocket. ‘You’re pretty close to perfect.’

‘Me?’ I choke, ‘I’m just about as far from that!’

‘Yes, you are.’ She studies me with her green eyes. ‘You never do anything wrong. You’re clever and pretty and brave. You stand up for your friends, even if they haven’t done the right thing and everyone adores you. I don’t deserve a friend like you.’

‘Oh, Erna, if only you knew. I’m not what you think I am…’

‘What do you mean?’

‘If I tell you, you must swear—’

‘Of course, I swear!’

But the room is filling up. Too many ears, too close. My heart pumps hard. I’m so desperate to talk to her about Walter, but here it’s too risky. Besides, since I shan’t be seeing him again, it hardly matters anymore. Perhaps someday, in the future, when I stop hurting. Maybe we’ll be able to have a giggle about it. One day.

‘Not here,’ I say at last. ‘And not yet. Just not yet.’

‘Hett—’

Fräulein Ackermann appears in the doorway and the chatter in the room fades.

‘Heil Hitler,’ we salute.

‘Heil Hitler,’ she replies, smiling broadly as she opens up her first-aid case.

*

On Sunday morning, I’m awake before dawn. The house sighs with the rhythms of its sleeping occupants. I’m not going to meet Walter, so why do I lie here, wide awake? I toss and turn, but sleep is not going to return. I might as well walk the dog since I’m awake.

I creep through the frigid, silent house to fetch Kuschi, and wrap myself in my coat, hat and gloves, heading out through the iron gate into the darkness. Kuschi makes the decision, tugging on the leash, leading me towards the river. I try to pull him the other way, but then, as Walter won’t be there anyway, I give in to his demands.

As I approach the bridge, the eastward sky is beginning to lighten. I pause on the ancient hump and lean over the stony wall as I’ve done so many times before, to watch the dark water flow beneath. A movement in the road makes me jump and Kuschi stirs at my feet, thumping his tail against my legs.