‘Are you thick, or something?’ Agnes raised her voice, but no one noticed. She leant into Dora again, her lips and foul breath close to Dora’s ear. ‘Breeding the master race. Pure Aryans. Why d’you think List didn’t have to use protection, like all the other pillocks who pissed our way? Why d’you think you were given special treatment?’

Dora swallowed, shook her head. This was too much to take in. Agnes scraped the spoon around the sides of the bowl, scratching at the last morsel of food.

‘You were picked,’ she went on. ‘That was what I was told. Certificated Aryan. I heard rumours, mind, that you were a yid, in disguise. And I thought to myself, good on yer. I’d never have known.’

She picked up the photograph, lifted it to her lips, then folded it carefully and put it back in her pocket.

‘You were singled out to breed. With the Hauptsturmführer. The SS. A perfect little baby. They made sure you had proper food. I saw you, up in the Revier. Milk and all. Taken off whoring duties. Just in case one of the other morons contaminated you. See, I kept my eyes open.’

Agnes was right about that. But it was because List cared for her, loved her. Protected her.

‘You think you’re special, don’t you?’ Agnes went on, as if reading Dora’s mind. ‘Well, I’ve got news for you. You weren’t the first, and if the Kommandant hadn’t blotted his copybook, you wouldn’t have been his last.’

‘No.’ Dora couldn’t help herself. ‘He cares.’

‘Pah,’ Agnes said. ‘They’re ruthless, these bastards.’ She pulled out the photograph again. ‘I had this rolled up my arse when they took me in,’ she said. ‘They never thought of looking there. Not that orifice.’ She winked. ‘You need your wits about you to out-do this lot.’ She looked at Dora. ‘You let your guard drop. Fell for the cheap glamour of power. Made sense for a while, got you favours. But it’s crunch time now.’

She nodded, her dirty hair falling forward on her face. She lifted her hand, yanked it behind her ear.

‘They snatched my baby. Took the fair-haired ones to give to families of the SS. Your baby’s no different. Hoffmann’s taking it to France, the moment it’s born.’ Agnes breathed in deep so her throat rattled. ‘God help you then.’

Dora sat toying with her spoon, trying to understand what Agnes was saying. What she said made sense of the meeting with List and Hoffmann. And yet, Dora thought, Agnes hadn’t been there in their private intimate moments. List was proud of his baby, was going to take Dora with him to Alderney. He wasn’t a liar.