I wish there was one more figure to come through that door. But there are no more. I think of the letter in my handbag, the contents of which are imprinted in my mind. The unfamiliar hand begins:

My dear Hetty,

I am writing this hasty response to catch the next post, so you do not have to wait a moment longer for a reply to your wonderful letter. I shall send you another, longer, and more detailed in the next day or so. I send this with mixed emotions – firstly of joy to find you are indeed alive. Walter never gave up hope of trying to find you, after the war. He spent years making fruitless enquiries and only found dead ends and then communication with East Germany became almost impossible for an outsider. We feared you had not survived the war. To find out you are alive and well is indescribably wonderful.

And so now for the bad news. I am so sorry to have to tell you that Walter passed away three years ago, very suddenly, of a heart attack. He was, as well you know, the best of men. During the war, he played his part in fighting the Nazis and suffice to say here that he was extremely brave. Later, he ran a successful hat business until his dying day. He diversified away from furs as the world rather turned away from such material, into the couture world of ladies’ hats! He was always charming and the ladies, of course, loved him. He was a good husband and we – Stanley, the cousins and our own children (we had three) – remain devastated to have lost a wonderful husband, father and uncle. I hate to have to tell you such sad news by letter, but, Stanley, your remarkable son, is alive and well. He is a successful lawyer, married and has two children of his own – teenagers now, one boy, one girl. I have been lucky to have been part of his life – he is a joy. It is inconceivable that you should not visit. We will make arrangements. Stanley has done well in life and we shall pay for your trip over. You are welcome to stay for as long as you like. I will write again soon.

Yours, Anna.

*

Anna approaches my table and I stand. For a moment we stare at one another, blue eyes searching brown. There is no hint of hatred, only sadness. Understanding, perhaps. But there is something else too. A glimmer I can read because it is this which has kept me going through the darkest of times.

Hope.

And Anna, the woman I have never met until now, who has haunted my dreams for half a lifetime, comes forward and enfolds me in the warmest of embraces.

A Note from the Author