Her bald head was still covered by a scarf, but a smile lit up her face; she was prettier than he remembered her. Less gaunt.

‘You look a little worse, though,’ she said. ‘Your arm is injured.’

‘It’s nothing. A scratch. Come on, put your broom down, I’m taking you out for a cup of coffee. I noticed that someone has opened a cafe in the ruins near here.’

‘I have to finish my work.’

‘It’s all right, I’ve spoken to the priest.’

She held back. ‘I don’t know if I should, Mr Heck.’

He took the broom from her and leant it against the wall, then he took her small hand in his and led her from the church. She did not resist, but she insisted on taking off her apron and leaving it by the main door.

They found a table outside the bar, in the sunshine. Heck asked the waitress if she had real coffee, but she shook her head.

‘Would you have real coffee if I gave you ten American cigarettes?’

‘That would be different, sir. I think we might manage that.’

When the coffee arrived, they both spooned in milk and sugar. ‘I can’t believe it,’ Maria said. ‘I haven’t tasted this in five or more years.’

‘I’ve got good news,’ Heck said. ‘Miriam is alive. You and your husband saved her life. She lives in Zurich with her husband and child.’

‘Oh, that is wonderful news. But, of course, I am sorry for you . . .’

He shrugged. ‘It was a youthful infatuation, nothing more. The important thing is that she is alive and happy.’

‘Well, if you ever talk to her or see her, please give her my best regards.’

‘I will do that.’

‘And you, Mr Heck, what will you do now? Will you stay in the army?’

‘No, I will resign my commission as soon as possible. And then I am going to make myself very rich.’

She laughed. ‘And how will you do that?’

‘To start with I am writing a book about the war, and the tragic fate of my people.’ He placed his journal on the table. ‘Much of it is already in here. And with the money I make, I shall start a publishing company.’

‘That’s a very good plan. I wish you luck.’

‘I also want a family, with many babies.’ He reached across the table and took her hand. ‘I am sorry, Frau Dienstag, but I don’t have time to woo you properly, so I must ask you straight out: will you marry me?’

The question stunned her, but then she burst into tears.

‘Well?’

‘You want me to marry a man with just one eyebrow?’ Her tears were tears of laughter and joy.

‘I know you are still mourning your husband and child. We are both grieving. But I think we have a spark – and we have hope.’