There was a ring at the doorbell. The only visitor that Rudolf had ever had was Niklas. Perhaps it was the caretaker come to take away the rubbish – or a lawyer from Rudolf’s family telling her to pack up and leave. She heard her own footsteps on the parquet of the hall and the clank of the bolt as she pulled open the front door. It was Anton, holding a small bunch of freesia, mixed with lily of the valley, wrapped in newspaper.

They stood, looking at each other.

‘Not a good time of year for flowers,’ Anton said at last.

Lena stepped back to let him in. They stood in the hallway, neither willing to move.

‘I’ve been coming every day since I had your letter,’ said Anton. ‘More than once a day. I telephoned the Schloss. I’ve been frantic. Shall I put these on the table here?’

Lena nodded.

‘Can I?’ He gestured the taking off of his coat and Lena nodded again. He threw it on a chair.

He smiled at her. Lena held his gaze.

Eventually, he spoke. ‘You are Lena.’

She unfroze a little. ‘I am.’

‘What is your second name?’

‘My father’s surname was Fontana.’

‘Italian?’

‘On his father’s side. His mother was from Villach.’

‘Then you are not Delphine Jacob.’

‘No.’

‘You are Lena Fontana.’

‘I am.’

‘And, Lena, I love you.’

She swayed a little where she stood and he ran the short distance between them to catch her, as though she were dying.

He took her hand and held it between his. ‘I love you for what you are. And all that you are. And nothing else. I admire you and love you from the bottom of my soul.’

Lena looked down at the floor.

Dry-eyed, she said, ‘Will you let me love you, too?’

‘If you’re sure.’

‘I am. But are you ready to let me hold you and stroke that scar each night until it disappears?’

‘The scar?’

‘Some butcher in a field hospital.’

‘Yes.’ He swallowed. ‘Yes, if you want to.’

She reached out and gripped his arm. ‘You can’t hold on to it. It’s not a part of who you are. Not any more.’

‘I think I can do that,’ said Anton.

‘And,’ said Lena, ‘you have to have my whole … exploding heart. That moment I heard you in the shop … Pretending to be interested in shirts …’ She began to laugh. ‘You have to take all of what I’m … what I’m giving you.’

Anton breathed in, trying not to cough. Moments of his life’s denial flickered through his mind. The dead fly on the windowsill in Baden, Friedrich’s white thigh bones, the papered-over windows of the schoolroom … Madame Caillaux fainting in the witness box … The snow swirling through the open gates.

‘Yes. I’ll let you do all those things.’ He had to cough. ‘And I will change. I will become a man who’s worthy of you.’

‘But you already are.’