I look at her properly for the first time. Bertha, who has always been here, like the furniture. I’ve never once given her more than a passing thought. And yet here she sits, soft and round and simple and kind. She knows so much and yet has never spoken a single word of it. In her eyes, I see worry and weariness. As though the weight of what she knows is too much. A sudden wave of fondness washes over me.

‘Thank you, Bertha. He saved my life once, a long time ago. Did you know?’

Bertha shakes her head.

‘Anyway, there is nothing more to worry about as he’s leaving Germany. For all I know, he could have left already…’

Bertha nods slowly. This time, she puts her hand on top of mine.

‘Just be careful, Fräulein Herta. Given who your father is, and keeping that sort of company…’ She hesitates. ‘Things could be very bad, especially for him.’

‘As I said, it’s nothing to worry about. He isn’t part of my life anymore.’ But with these words comes a deep, physical pain. ‘I’m going to take Kuschi for a walk,’ I say, pushing back my chair.

I attach his leash and give Bertha a quick wave as I head out the back door. Still sitting at the table, she lifts her hand in reply.

It’s good to be out in the blustery wind, buffeting my body, chilling my face and hands. Perhaps it will help to clear the jumbled chaos of thoughts and ease the agony of grief which stubbornly sits, a permanent unwelcome visitor, deep within my soul.

23 October 1938

After the funeral, Mutti flees to stay with her sister, Adèle, in Weimar.

‘She needs to be cared for,’ Vati tells me firmly. ‘She’s in no fit state to look after anyone else. Time away from prying eyes and gossipers will help her heal.’

‘But I could take care of her, Vati, I could go with her to Weimar.’

‘No, you must stay in Leipzig. Oma Annamaria is coming this afternoon from Berlin to keep an eye on you and the household. Tomorrow you return to school. Life must get back to normal.’

‘But it isn’t normal anymore.’ My heart sinks at the thought of Vati’s strict mother – a true Prussian, with her sucked-in cheeks and ramrod straight back, dressed always from head to toe in black – in place of Mutti’s soft, perfumed presence.

‘A new normal. We must be strong, Herta. Strong for your mother and strong for the Fatherland.’ Vati stares into space, as if seeing visions of all he must achieve. ‘I have to work. It’s the best way to cope.’ He heads towards the study. ‘I may have to be away a good deal, so don’t give your Oma any trouble.’

How very convenient! Send Mutti away and go to your mistress for comfort.

I’m wondering what to do with myself when there is a knock at the front door. Another visitor.