‘Lisbet?’ She blinks. Mathias is there in the yard, is watching her with rheumy eyes, his granddaughter clutching his shirt. ‘What happened?’

Frederich overtakes her, greets the miller warmly. ‘Please, sir, I will explain.’

Mathias nods, and pushes Ilse gently forwards. ‘Take her in, kleiner leibling.’

Ilse’s hand is soft as her mother’s, and only slightly smaller. Lisbet follows the girl obedient as a child, and allows herself to be settled at the table, given bread and milk. Ilse watches her with large eyes.

‘Where are your brothers?’ asks Lisbet.

‘Asleep,’ Ilse says.

‘Are you not tired?’ The girl hesitates. ‘Go. It is all right. You can sleep now.’

‘Where is Mutti?’

Lisbet’s tongue stirs dryly in her mouth. ‘She is safe. Sleep. It’s late.’

Obediently, Ilse leaves for Nethe’s room. As she pushes open the door, Lisbet catches a glimpse of the boys curled up in bed, the infant on his swaddling board on the floor. Ilse gets to her knees beside him, and adjusts his blankets. The door swings shut.

After a long while, Mathias and Frederich come inside. Mathias’ face is wet with tears, and wordlessly he grasps Lisbet’s hands.

‘It will be all right,’ she says, wanting to believe it. Mathias pats her, trembling.

‘Thank you,’ he says. ‘For going to her.’

‘I love her,’ she says.

‘And she loves you.’ He swallows. ‘May we stay here? I cannot take them back there. Not if he—’

His voice cracks with anger, with fear.

Lisbet doesn’t need to ask who Mathias means. ‘Of course.’

‘Will he go after her?’

‘He didn’t see us,’ says Lisbet. This alone is comfort to her. ‘There was so much happening. Sophey took them away unnoticed.’

Mathias takes a shaky breath. ‘I don’t know what will happen when—’

‘Don’t dwell on tomorrow. There is nothing to do but wait.’

Mathias stifles a yawn. ‘I can sleep on the floor with the baby.’

‘Don’t be absurd,’ she tells him. ‘Take Sophey’s bed. Through there.’

‘Bless you.’ Mathias looks wrung out, grey with exhaustion. He heaves his body upright, and leaves. Frederich collapses beside Lisbet.

‘Can I get you anything?’ she asks.

Frederich laughs hollowly, and starts to sob. She doesn’t know what to do, as the drummer buries his head into his hands, his shoulders heaving. Lisbet reaches out to him, patting his arm.

‘I am sorry,’ he says thickly. ‘Only, it is easy to forget. How much we are hated, how little others understand.’ He looks up at her. ‘But you do, don’t you?’

‘I am not—’ Lisbet is flustered, scattered. ‘I am not like you.’

Frederich’s face hardens. ‘That is not what I meant.’ He takes a breath. ‘I meant you know what it is to love without hope of safety. Your babies . . .’

Lisbet’s throat closes, voice coming out strangled. ‘How do you know?’

‘You must not think he betrayed your confidences,’ mumbles Frederich. ‘But Eren said you had lost children. I made some careless joke, and he was only putting me right. He said you knew bravery. It takes courage, to love beyond what others deem the right boundaries. We are alike in this.’