‘It’s Ingrid, it must be. Bertha warned me—’

‘What do you mean?’

‘She told me that Ingrid suspected I had a young man, and that she had seen proof of something “sensational”.’

‘I know you thought she saw us together that time, but—’

‘I don’t know if she did, and just seeing us in the shop, in itself, isn’t a crime. So I think it must have been something more… Oh, Walter, I think she found my diary.’

‘Hetty, don’t tell me you wrote any of this down?’ He looks at me, horrified. ‘Did you actually mention my name?’

‘Yes,’ I whisper.

Walter sinks his head into his hands and groans.

‘I’m so sorry.’

‘Of all the stupid—’

‘I’ll destroy it! I promise.’

‘So, she doesn’t have it?’

‘No! I used to keep it under my mattress. But I found a much better hiding place. She couldn’t possibly have found it there.’

‘She can’t have done, that’s why they couldn’t arrest me.’ Walter chews his nail while he thinks. ‘So they’ve no proof and the person who made the allegation has so far refused to name you. To bring me to trial for Racial Defilement, the other party – you – cannot be prosecuted, because you would have to give evidence of the defilement, thereby implicating yourself. And you can’t give evidence against yourself. I think that’s why this person, whoever they are, has withdrawn the accusation. For now, anyway. They’ve no evidence to back up their claim. Perhaps they hope to catch us together. Or maybe they’re afraid of the consequences of dragging your family name into the whole thing. But if they had hold of your diary, and it confirmed everything…’ Walter stares at me, his eyes stretched wide. ‘Hetty, you must burn that thing. They could prosecute you, too, you know that? Please promise me!’

‘I promise…’

Fighting panic, I peer through the trees at the water-blackened branches and sodden leaves, whose earthy hint of decay rises, musty and sweet. Like some menacing omen, the threat closes in, slipping silently between the trees, ever closer to Walter.

I cling to him.

‘Walter, you must go now. Leave for England, please.’

He nods, holding me tight. ‘Anna’s father has got me a visa at last, by providing financial guarantees and assurances about my ability to support myself and my future wife.’ The word makes me flinch. ‘He’s really been very good to me. He’s even arranged the wedding date, as firm proof of the intention, for March next year.’

‘March next year,’ I echo, for a moment allowing my mind to project further ahead than the next few days. What future has this Germany in store for me, without Walter, without Karl? It stretches ahead, like this forest; bleak, empty, desolate. It has to happen, I know, but the cold reality is a bitter poison on my tongue. ‘I want you to be safe, Walter, I do. But I can’t bear the thought of you and her…’

‘I know. I can hardly bear it either. I’m so sorry. Shit,’ he says, letting go of me and burying his face in his hands. ‘Words are just so inadequate…’ He raises his head, eyes watering, and pulls me by the shoulders to face him. His jaw is fixed, teeth clenched. ‘I feel like a traitor, leaving you and my parents behind. I’d give anything to take you with me. As for my parents, as soon as I’m in London, I’m going to work like hell to get them to England. I’ll do everything I can, work twenty-four hours a day if I must, to make it happen. Besides, if I don’t think of it as a rescue mission, none of it is bearable.’