She had seen List the week before, the first time since Christmas. Hoffmann had ordered her into the office, made her take off her clothes and parade naked as if she were a prize cow for breeding. He had stared at her with an architect’s eye, at her shape and form, swollen now from the baby she carried inside her. He could see the stretch marks on her breasts and stomach, the veins that crossed her skin like a delta. His face was hard, and he gave no indication of his promise, his tender moments when they had been together. He can’t, Dora thought, not with Hoffmann there. And Agnes, hovering like a harbinger. No, his indifference was protecting her. She’d wanted to nod, smile, I understand.

‘Everything is in order?’ He spoke in German. Nurse Hoffmann nodded.

‘Herr Himmler has opened the facility personally.’ She was beaming, as if Herr Himmler had singled her out. ‘At Lamorlaye. Mein Liebling.’ My darling.

List was smiling, nodding, whispered Himmler, as if it was an endearment, a secret bond between the two.

They must be lovers, Nurse Hoffmann and Hauptsturmführer List. Lovers. He’d let her down. Betrayed her. She was expendable, of course. Powerless. Why had she even begun to dream? She was crushed beneath the leviathan of the Reich, a pawn in its power play.

Dora bit her lip, held back the tears.

He couldn’t love that Hoffmann woman with her moon face and squat frame. No. He’d summon Dora later, explain, apologise for his absence since Christmas. The sea was too rough to sail. Run his finger against her cheek. Meine schöne Frau. My beautiful lady. Press his lips to hers, kiss me, Dora.

He was using Hoffmann as a front. Of course.

But he hadn’t called for her later and had sent no word since. Dora thought he must be ill. Or had been summoned elsewhere and couldn’t tell her. The Germans moved their men around. Top secret. Or was busy. He was an important man, after all. Dora had often wondered how he’d found time to visit her so often.

‘Well?’ Nurse Hoffmann said again. ‘Do you?’

There was something in Nurse Hoffmann’s voice that invited a chat today, not just an answer. Much as Dora despised and mistrusted her, she longed for conversation, the ping-pong of talk, the possibility of human exchange. But she wasn’t sure if this was a trap, to admit that she had feelings for List.

‘How do you know I have a boyfriend?’

Nurse Hoffmann turned her face away, shifted her body so she stood, back turned to Dora.

‘I know these things.’ She threw the words over her shoulder, added, ‘I used to see you. With the farmer.’