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.

He arrives, moments later, shoulders hunched inside his coat, the sound of his footsteps lost beneath the rush of the water. We stare at each other through the low morning light.

‘I thought you weren’t coming.’

‘Then why are you here, Miss Herta?’ His voice carries a hint of amusement. Irritatingly self-assured.

‘I’m walking my dog.’

‘Of course you are. Of all the places in Leipzig you could walk your dog…’

‘I like walking here. And you? What’s your reason for being here?’

‘I came to see you.’

He stands close, leaning over the wall, and for a moment I long for him to put his arm around my shoulders, but he does not.

‘What made you so certain I would be here?’

‘Just a hunch.’ He turns towards me, the warmth of his breath on my face, a self-certain smile on his lips.

‘Why do you think you’re so clever, Walter Keller? Why are you so arrogant to think that I want to spend my time with you?’

He shakes his head and looks at the river. ‘I’m not in the least bit certain,’ he says. ‘I took a chance. I admit, I’m pleased to see you here – I can’t deny that, can’t deny I’m attracted to you, that I enjoy your company, despite our differences, and all the danger. No, more: I love your company. But if you look me in the eye, now, and tell me you never want to see me again, then I shall go away and never bother you again.’

He turns around to face me. It’s light enough to see him properly. I square up to tell him exactly that: Leave me alone. I have no need of you. You are dangerous to me and I want you out of my life. Give me strength, Mein Führer.

But the words fail me.