So now he knows the truth too and he can confirm Vati’s suspicions. He gives me a long look, then turns to Mutti and Vati.

‘Herr, Frau Heinrich. Heil Hitler.’ He salutes, wearing his Sunday best suit. ‘I’m very sorry to intrude. The front door was open. Nobody came when I rang the bell. I wanted to surprise Hetty, collect her early and take her for lunch.’

He stares at me. I must look a dishevelled mess, my clothes twisted round, my hair loose and blood running down behind my ear. ‘Can I help, Hetty? Are you quite well?’

Vati deflates. He sinks to the sofa, head in his hands. ‘I’m done for,’ he mutters.

Mutti turns to Tomas. ‘I’m sorry. This is not a good time. Herta has got herself into trouble and…’ Her voice fades.

Tomas’s eyes flicker over my stomach. He looks into my eyes. His expression is unreadable. What does it matter now, anyway?

‘She refuses to reveal the father, you see, s-so…’ Mutti stammers, rubbing her hands together and glancing at Vati as if for permission to say these things. He is mute, his head still buried.

There’s a moment of quiet and I tenderly touch the sticky lump which has formed on my temple. Tomas steps towards me and takes my arm.

‘But darling,’ he says steadily, ‘why wouldn’t you tell them? The baby’s mine, see?’ he adds firmly, smiling broadly at us all.

Vati’s head shoots up. The three of us gape at him.

The sunlight in the room intensifies. The air stills. Mutti and Vati are silent. I cannot breathe.

I stare at him, willing him to meet my eyes again, but he is looking at Vati now. His cheeks are pink and his glasses, smudged as always, sit halfway down his nose. He pushes them up, just as he did in the classroom all those years ago. He swallows and his Adam’s apple rises and falls in his throat. Tiny white pimples dot his cheeks. An unlikely hero – but, right now, this is the sweetest, dearest face imaginable.

‘I’m sorry you had to learn it this way, Herr Heinrich,’ Tomas says. ‘It wasn’t how I planned it. We’ll marry as soon as possible, of course, won’t we, Hetty? I can prove my Aryan ancestry. I’ve got all the paperwork. Not a drop of Jewish blood runs in my veins, so we shan’t be denied permission on that test.’ He turns to look at me. ‘I’d been planning to ask you over lunch, my dearest.’

Vati and Mutti are still mute. They glance at each other.

Mutti laughs nervously.

‘But, Herta, I don’t understand. Why did you deny it was Tomas? Why the secrecy?’

Everything is moving too fast. I can’t think properly.

Tomas answers for me.

‘It was my fault,’ he says. ‘I told her not to tell. It came as a shock. Never expected to be a father at seventeen! I was ashamed but I’ve got my head round it all now and I couldn’t be happier. I love your daughter with all my heart, Herr Heinrich.’