‘I would like you to be happy, Hetty,’ Mutti says as she looks out of the window across the leaf-scattered lawn. ‘But what I think, or what you think or desire, doesn’t matter. What you have to do, is your duty. As we all do. Firstly, to the Führer. Then to Vati, and one day, to your husband. You are almost sixteen, Hetty, I should hardly have to explain this.’ She continues to stare out of the window and I study her profile. Always poised, refined and elegant, she rarely speaks her mind. It seems almost preposterous that she is a person in her own right, with thoughts and opinions which might be different from Vati’s.

What lies beneath her skin? How can I find a crack in her armour, the real Mutti?

‘You are a sweet girl, Hetty.’ She tears her gaze from the window and back to me. ‘You are clever and thoughtful, but you have much to learn. You must curb your tongue and control your impetuous nature. These are not good qualities in a woman these days. But my dear Maman, she would have loved you.’ She smiles at the memory of poor, dead Oma Fabienne.

‘Tell me some stories from your childhood in France,’ I beg. ‘When Oma Fabienne was alive and you were little.’

But Mutti shakes her head. ‘Another time, Hetty. I really am awfully busy.’ She turns back to her letters, and our conversation is over.

*

Vati telephones to say he will be catching the four o’clock train, to arrive in Leipzig shortly after five thirty. Tomas also telephones, asking if I’m feeling better and would I like to go to the cinema with him.

Not really. Not now.

Instead, I decide to walk to the Hauptbahnhof to meet Vati off his train.

As I get close to the station, the pavements swarm with people, making it impossible to hurry. When I finally reach the main concourse, I see from the board that Vati’s train arrived five minutes ago. I scan heads as people stream from the platforms but it’s impossible to find anyone amongst the crowds and I can’t see him anywhere.

I give up and edge my way out of the station into the flow of people heading slowly towards the city centre. My shoelace is loose, so I stop outside Breuninger stores for a moment to tighten it. In the window is a display of new winter fashion. A little drab, colour-wise, grey and navy blue, but the style is attractive; clean, slim lines, with nipped-in waists and belts.

I stand up, turn, and there is Vati, just a few feet away. He looks towards me, smiling and laughing. He seems so happy, all the stress and worry he normally carries wiped from his face – he is almost unrecognisable. But he hasn’t seen me. He’s looking at a woman with her back to me. I open my mouth to call out, but Vati flings his arms around the woman. They stand in a close embrace, their bodies pressed together, foreheads touching.