‘Sit still,’ he said and shifted his position. He lifted the pencil, looking at her with an intensity that was both detached and passionate. ‘Don’t move.’

‘I have to breathe,’ she said.

He sketched her for a few minutes, then smiled, stopped, turned the page so she could see it. ‘There.’

A few simple lines but he had captured something in her face, an openness, a happiness perhaps. He had made her beautiful. Is that what he saw?

‘Pull your hair back, on top of your head.’

Dora piled it up, twisting the curls and knotting them. It would hold for a moment.

‘And lie on your side.’

She slid down on her elbow and stretched herself along the bed. She could hear the scratch of his pencil as he drew her naked body.

‘I should design you a house,’ he said. ‘Perfectly poised. Like you. In repose.’

‘How could that be?’

He waved his hand, soft undulations in the air. ‘I’ll ponder it,’ he said. ‘Give me time.’

‘I’d like to see that,’ she said. She was content to give him something of herself, if only inspiration.

‘I’ll call it after you. Das Dora Haus. Would you like that?’

He pushed himself up and dressed. This time, he leant over and kissed her forehead.

‘I have so many ideas,’ he said. ‘You see, I will become the most important architect this century has seen. I will stretch the boundaries of what’s possible, design living organic buildings. And you, my dear, have given me something special. You are my muse. My beautiful, beautiful muse.’

He walked towards the door, and turned. ‘I will be back in a week or two. I will look forward to that with huge pleasure.’

Dora smiled and nodded. Me too, she found herself thinking.

Agnes kept a close eye on them all, tipped off Nurse Hoffmann at their monthly check-ups, who needed a scrape, who didn’t. Dora didn’t require Agnes or Nurse Hoffmann to confirm what Dora knew herself. The SS didn’t use protection.

‘One of the perks,’ Agnes said. ‘With certain women. Chosen women.’

It must have happened early on, that first night even. ‘No wire for you,’ she said. ‘They’ve got other plans.’ ‘What do you mean?’ Agnes laughed. ‘Just wait.’

A worm within, an invasion. Dora eyed Nurse Hoffmann’s curette, but wasn’t sure she could use it on herself, even though she felt dead to the child. Perhaps that would be enough to kill it. Willpower alone.

Nurse Hoffmann made sure Dora had extra milk.

Jewish. If only they knew, Dora thought, with their spurious science. You have to laugh. Only that would be too dangerous. Laugh inside. She could tell no one, not even Collette. Every evening she sweated, nerves tight as a drum. It would be so easy to let something slip.