‘I’ll help in any way I can,’ I repeat, choking on my tears.

‘I know.’

‘I’m not brave, you know. I’m terrified of the future.’ I swallow hard. ‘I don’t even know if I’ll see you again. That’s what scares me the most. Walter, I couldn’t bear it if—’

Finally, he draws me in, holds me gently in his arms. I cling to him as though my life depends on it.

‘We don’t know what the future holds,’ Walter whispers into my ear. ‘But know this, as long as you are alive, as long as I am alive, somewhere in this world, that is a good thing. One day you will find happiness, I’m certain of it. That is enough for me. I will always hold a place in my heart for you. Always. You saved my life, Hetty Heinrich, and I shall never forget that.’

And you have saved me, Walter Keller, then and now.

You have opened my eyes and made me see.

23 November 1938

I bury my head at the base of his neck and feel, for the last time, the softness of his skin against my cheek. He is so thin I can feel his ribs through his clothes. I breathe in his scent. Try to commit it to memory. His arms are wrapped around me and we stay like this a long time, eyes closed, immersed in each other.

‘I must go,’ Walter says, pulling away from me. ‘My mother and grandmother are waiting on the platform. I can only disappear to the toilet for so long,’ he smiles.

I nod, hardly bearing to release him. We huddle out of sight in our prearranged spot behind the station, away from the hurrying crowds. I couldn’t let him leave without saying goodbye.

‘Take care of yourself,’ he whispers, studying my face.

I swallow the lump in my throat. ‘Take care of yourself too,’ I reply, holding tight to his good hand. ‘You’d better go.’

‘Yes,’ he says, slipping his hand from my grasp and picking up his case. ‘I’ll write, I promise. Just once, to let you know I’m safely there.’

‘To Erna’s address.’

‘Yes. And don’t worry. I’ll be fine.’

‘Make sure you get treatment for your hand.’

‘I’m going to the right place for it.’

He takes a deep breath and walks away, turning just once, to blow me a kiss.

‘I love you, Walter Keller,’ I call recklessly after him as he rounds the pillar and then I follow at a safe distance onto the platform where the train waits, steam hissing.

I watch Walter embrace his mother and grandmother. He climbs onto the train, slams the door and leans through the open window, his baldness covered by his hat. He waves to the two forlorn figures clinging to each other on the platform as the whistle blows, loud and shrill. The engine puffs hard and the train inches forward along the track. Walter’s eyes begin to search the crowd. I will him to see me, to look at me one last time because I daren’t wave. At last, as the train, pulls away, his eyes find mine – and in them is my everything…