‘Yes, Mr Heck, yes I will marry you. I have been thinking about you all day and all night.’

‘And I you.’

‘I can’t believe it. Things like this don’t happen to me.’

‘And the babies?’

‘Yes, many babies.’

Chapter 50

Chapter 50

Wilde flew into Northolt in north-west London, then took the train up to Cambridge. It was midday and he found Lydia in the back garden, but she did not look her usual welcoming self.

She was in her old green corduroy trousers – the ones she wore for gardening – and a large white men’s cotton shirt. In one hand she had a wood-handled trowel and in the other, she had Johnny’s hand. Her hair was tangled, her face was grimy and sweaty and she was scowling.

‘Daddy, Daddy!’ the boy said.

‘Johnny.’ He reached out, picked him up and tickled him so that he squealed.

‘Well?’ Lydia said, still not smiling.

‘I’m home,’ Wilde said.

‘So I see. And what happened? Did you find the horrid little man with the toothbrush moustache?’

‘That’s a bit complicated.’

‘Tom, I have been stuck alone in this bloody house with a demanding toddler and a Russian spy for God knows how long, I can do without your riddles. Did you find the Nazi swine or not?’

‘Yes, I found him. But he no longer had the moustache. He had a bushy grey beard and thick glasses and a stoop and looked like everyone’s idea of a grandfather.’

‘Where was he? More the point, where is he now?’

‘That’s the problem. There was an explosion, a fire, and he was burnt to a cinder. There’s nothing left of him. And no one else saw him. No one alive anyway. So I’ll never be able to prove any of it.’

‘I thought you were working with someone else?’

‘I was. A guy named Mozes Heck, a lieutenant in the British Army, Dutch Jew by birth. But he was in hospital at the time recovering from a wound. Look, can we go indoors and have a cup of something and I’ll tell you the whole story. It’s been one hell of a journey. Germany’s a smoking pile of rubble.’

‘You know, Tom. I really don’t want to hear it. I’m sure you have had the time of your life among the willing Fräuleins. They offer their services for two cigarettes or a Yankee dollar, I believe.’

‘That’s not fair.’