I shook my head. This I couldn’t talk about—that I hadn’t been along. I hadn’t been there when it happened, I hadn’t been there when Mummy was taken away in the ambulance, I hadn’t been there when she died all alone in the hospital four days later. No one needed to know that. No one could fix that, and I didn’t want anyone to pretend to try.

“My father, Lenford Adair, was a merchant seaman on a ship that was torpedoed three days after my mother died,” I said carefully. “I didn’t find out until about two weeks later. Poor Daddy! I don’t know if he knew what happened to Mummy. I sent a telegram, but it might not have reached him. I can’t decide if I hope he did know, or if I hope he didn’t.” I swallowed again. “Hundreds of men drowned. He hadn’t been let in the Royal Navy because he wasn’t born in Europe, but the German U-boats don’t seem to care whether it’s a navy or civilian ship they’re sinking—”

I choked on my words, my face and eyes burning.

“I’m sorry!” I gasped. “I didn’t mean it to sound like anyone who’s German—”

“It didn’t,” she said. “And the U-boats don’t. Well done, Lenford Adair! Those merchant seamen are just as heroic as the military seamen, even if they’re not in battle. I’m sorry they wouldn’t let your father in the navy. There’s nothing more frustrating than having an open door slammed in your face.”

It reminded me of what the social worker said: There’s nothing worse than knowing nobody wants you.

“And grief is a burden you can never put down,” said the old woman. “Though it gets easier to hide. I’ve been alone for three years. It doesn’t feel very long.” She suddenly sounded stubborn. “It isn’t very long. It never stops hurting. You learn to bear the pain.”

“Do you?” I asked longingly, caught off guard by her intimacy and kindness.

She shrugged her thin shoulders. “It depends on where you are and what you’re doing.”

The social worker’s warning nagged in my head. Do keep a careful eye on her, won’t you? Do take care that Frau von Arnim isn’t allowed to hurt herself again.

We’d finished our sandwiches. The old woman drooped and was instantly asleep, snoring lightly against my shoulder.

I didn’t blame her. I couldn’t remember ever being so tired in my life. Johanna von Arnim’s sleek head pressed against me like a bag full of concrete. It hadn’t been easy, talking about Mummy and Daddy. I let the tears come quietly and didn’t make a noise. It was comforting to have the old woman’s head lolling heavy and trusting against my shoulder.