‘Actually, Walter,’ I say, and take a deep breath. ‘I-I think we should put a stop to all this.’

His face falls. I look away and squeeze my hands together in my lap. Stay strong.

I tell him about the story I read in the Leipziger about the actress.

Walter says nothing and picks at some loose skin next to his thumbnail.

‘It’s too dangerous, for both of us.’ I fish the Kafka from my pocket. ‘And I’m sorry, but I can’t read this.’

‘Hetty…’

He slides the book across the table and shoves it into his jacket pocket. He looks at me now and there is so much hurt in his eyes. I let my fingers brush his hand lying on the table. A lump forms in my throat as I imagine a future without our Sunday mornings, without the warmth of his hand in mine, the touch of his lips, or the smell of him. This, and the events of the past week – first Vati, and now Erna and Karl – are suddenly an unbearable weight, crushing me.

Lena approaches the table carrying a tray and I pull my hand away. She places the teacups and teapot in front of us, giving me a sideways look with her dark eyes and then retreats behind the counter. She begins to polish it, paying close attention to the area near to where we sit. Walter notices me staring at her.

‘I promise,’ he says, ‘you can trust Lena with your life and mine. She has as much to lose as us. She’d never tell a soul.’

I feel my shoulders relax. I try again. ‘Walter, you must know this isn’t what I want…’

He gazes at me, then pours the tea.

Such a simple task, but I have never once seen Vati pour tea for Mutti. I watch his hands move, strong yet gentle.

I take a sip of tea and meet his eyes over the rim of my teacup.

He looks away and I see the muscles twitching in his jaw. ‘You know,’ he says, his voice cracking, ‘we’ve had so much taken away from us. So much. I thought I’d found some happiness with you. I’d decided, damn them, the Nazis. I’ll fall in love with whoever I choose. How dare they, with their disgusting laws, consider me inferior. How dare they declare me not good enough for you, if you consider me to be.’ He sits back in his chair. ‘And now it looks like they’ve won, after all.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I whisper.

He slumps in his chair, deflated. As though all the fight has gone out of him. I search for something to say, to break the silence.

‘I’ve found out Vati has a mistress,’ I blurt out. ‘They have a child together. A little girl.’

Walter puts down his cup.

‘Oh God. That’s awful.’

‘I saw them together.’