The speech is over and Vati claps his hands to say a few words.

‘As you all well know, it has been a difficult year, particularly for my dear wife, Hélène. But, with your support, dearest of friends and family, I believe we are through the worst. Let us hope that 1939 brings us personal peace, and we go forward to this new year with courage, steadfastness and resolve in our hearts to continue this great mission of ours, now we are part of a family of eighty million great German hearts, beating as one, towards our common destiny. To the Fatherland, Heil Hitler!’

Applause breaks out around the room and everyone drinks to the future.

Erna and I lock eyes and she knows I am thinking of Walter at this moment. How can I toast the Fatherland which has driven an ocean of despair between us? She dispatches Tomas to find Ingrid to top up her glass.

‘Hetty,’ she says, once he’s out of earshot, ‘you’re pale as a ghost. What is it?’

I don’t tell her of the niggling worry I’ve had the last few days. Something which should have come hasn’t. We move to a quiet corner of the room where we cannot be overheard.

‘Two days ago,’ I tell her instead, ‘I went back to Lena’s café and met with Walter’s mother. I’d made him a promise—’

‘What promise?’ Erna brings her head close to mine, so no one else can hear.

‘I said I’d try to get Walter’s father and uncle out of the camp.’

‘But Hetty, you can’t!’

‘It was so pathetic, Erna. She was so pathetic. She begged me, cried and cried and begged and begged as though I were her last and only hope. And if they’ve not been released by now, I wonder if they’re even alive.’

‘There is nothing you can do, Hetty. Nothing! What did she expect—’

‘Here we are!’ Tomas lurches into us, shoving a full champagne flute into Erna’s hand. Some of the contents fizz over the side of the glass. ‘Prost! Down the hatch!’ he smiles and tips his own glass into his mouth.

‘Sip it, Tomas, slowly, please,’ Erna hisses. ‘It isn’t beer. Actually, could you give Hetty and me a few moments? Please?’

He looks from Erna to me, and winks.

‘Fine. But I’ll be back.’ A shudder runs down my back.

He sways off towards Eva’s officer. I wince at his ungainly frame, his loud laugh.

‘I shouldn’t have invited him.’

‘He’s okay,’ Erna smiles and waves a dismissive hand. ‘You were saying?’

‘I remember her, Walter’s mother. Years ago, long before we moved into this house, Mutti, Karl and I were invited there for tea. I was probably only six or seven, but I do remember her. She seemed so elegant. Not like Mutti’s elegance, something different. She had a sort of carefree confidence. Mutti has always been vulnerable, I suppose. Reliant on Vati for everything. But this lady, so petite and delicate, was vibrant and full of energy. The person in the café, Erna, was totally different. She was this miserable, feeble, reduced person. Unwashed and poor and desperate. It made me realise that if a person is treated like a stray dog, they become one.’