‘I don’t care.’ His voice is harsh suddenly. ‘Tell them it died. Babies do. With any luck it will, then that will solve the problem, won’t it?’

‘How can you say that?’ I splutter. ‘How can you say that about an innocent baby? Besides, it wasn’t like that. Walter is a good person. We loved each other, and what we did – I wanted to do it.’ My throat has closed. I can no longer speak. I stare at him in horror, will him to say something more, to turn to me and say it was just some awful, cruel joke. Surely even Tomas cannot be this cold-blooded?

But he says nothing, refusing to look at me, his mouth turned down, his glasses sliding down his nose. I can no longer stand the sight of him.

Everything has a price.

This baby is the price of loving Walter.

Losing it is the price Tomas demands.

What choice do I have? I’m doomed if I pay it, and doomed if I don’t.

But the thought of being married to Tomas, sharing his life and his bed, fills me with utter dread.

I stare out over the lake and remember how Walter pulled me from its depths.

How I wish he had let me go…

19 April 1939

‘Why are you avoiding me?’ The hurt in Erna’s voice echoes down the telephone wire. ‘I don’t understand, Hett. Please tell me what I’ve done. If I said something to upset you—’

‘You haven’t upset me.’

‘That makes it worse, pretending it’s nothing!’

‘It’s the truth. You haven’t done anything, Erna.’

‘Then why have you avoided me for the last three weeks, Hetty? You’ve not been at school. I’ve called at the house, I’ve phoned. It’s as if you’ve got the plague or something.’

‘It’s the spring holidays, Erna!’

‘I know, but we always see each other in the holidays.’

I feed the telephone cord through my fingers.

‘Come over,’ I say after a pause. ‘This afternoon, while Mutti is paying her monthly visit to the soldiers’ home. Come at four.’

I replace the receiver. She is going to find out soon enough anyway. Mutti has written to the school to tell them I shan’t be returning after the holidays.

Better that she hears it from me.

*

Vera lets Erna into the house. I hear her pound up the staircase, then her quick tread along the corridor. I force myself to face the door as she comes in, the shame of my bump clearly exposed beneath my clothes. I hold my breath and wait for her disgust.

‘Hetty?’

She walks towards me, looking at my face. Instinctively, my hands drop to my belly and only then does she lower her eyes.

‘Christ Almighty!’

‘Yes.’

‘That’s why you’ve been avoiding me?’

‘It might as well be the plague!’

‘Oh, Hetty! How? Who’s the father?’