Erna also tells me that you are married to Tomas. In all honesty, I have struggled to come to terms with this. My reaction was utter disbelief, but she swore this was what you wanted, and that Tomas has been very good to you. If this is true, then I will try my best to be happy for you. But this cannot be the truth. I find it strange, to say the least, that Tomas should take a wife already expecting another man’s child. I also believe I know you well enough to know this can’t be what you really want. I suspect that you, like me, have been swept along by events over which you have no control. I suppose we are neither of us in this situation of our own choosing.

I also want you to know that Anna is a good, forgiving person and I know, without any hesitation, that she will treat our baby with love and tenderness. Were things different, I feel certain the two of you would easily become the best of friends. Know only this, my dearest love, I will never stop loving you, from this day until my very last.

Yours,

Walter.

*

Tomas and Vati are eating breakfast and reading the morning papers when I come into the dining room. Mutti has not yet appeared. It still gives me a jolt to see Tomas sat in Karl’s chair at the table.

Vati glances at me as I come in. He folds his paper and slurps the dregs from his coffee cup.

‘I must be off,’ he says, pushing back his chair. ‘Busy day.’

Don’t worry, Vati, just a few more days and I won’t be here to pollute the atmosphere and offend you any longer.

‘Morning, darling,’ Tomas says, watching me help myself to juice and slices of bread.

He reaches for my hand as I sit across the table from him, drawing his fingers across my skin. I pull my hand away and begin buttering the bread. ‘I shall hunt for a place for us to live, while you are away,’ he continues. ‘It’ll take my mind off your absence. Just seven more weeks at that arschloch factory. I can’t wait to get out of there. I begin my training mid-September, so we shall have some time together before that. Then I will be close by for twelve weeks. After that, who knows? There are rumours, you know.’

‘What rumours?’

‘That Germany will take Poland.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘We need more space. And the Poles…’ The skin on his face contracts. ‘I hate them.’

Mutti hurries into the room.

‘Goodness, I overslept this morning! I haven’t done that since…’ She doesn’t finish the sentence. She pats her neat hair, smooths her dress.

Tomas folds the paper and taps the front of it. ‘See that?’