He was looking more and more cross, even though she was answering well. What was going wrong? It was almost as if he would have been happier for her to be intimidated by his manner and to give stupid replies.

He put out his cigarette thoughtfully in the ashtray on his desk. ‘I’m afraid you are not suitable as a candidate for this scholarship,’ he said.

She was astonished. How had she failed? She had answered every question! ‘Why not?’ she said. ‘My qualifications are irreproachable.’

‘You are unwomanly. You talk freely of the vagina and the penis.’

‘It was you who started that! I merely answered your question.’

‘You have clearly been brought up in a coarse environment where you saw the nakedness of your male relatives.’

‘Do you think old people’s diapers should be changed by men? I’d like to see you do it!’

‘Worst of all, you are disrespectful and insolent.’

‘You asked me challenging questions. If I had given you timid replies you would have said I wasn’t tough enough to be a doctor – wouldn’t you?’

He was momentarily speechless, and she realized that was exactly what he would have done.

‘You’ve wasted my time,’ she said, and she went to the door.

‘Get married,’ he said. ‘Produce children for the Führer. That’s your role in life. Do your duty!’

She went out and slammed the door.

Frieda looked up in alarm. ‘What happened?’

Carla headed for the exit without replying. She caught the eye of the secretary, who looked pleased, clearly knowing what had happened. Carla said to her: ‘You can wipe that smirk off your face, you dried-up old bitch.’ She had the satisfaction of seeing the woman’s shock and horror.

Outside the building she said to Frieda: ‘He had no intention of recommending me for the scholarship, because I’m a woman. My qualifications were irrelevant. I did all that work for nothing.’ Then she burst into tears.

Frieda put her arms around her.

After a minute she felt better. ‘I’m not going to raise children for the damned Führer,’ she muttered.

‘What?’

‘Let’s go home. I’ll tell you when we get there.’ They climbed on to their bikes.

There was a strange air in the streets, but Carla was too full of her own woes to wonder what was going on. People were gathering around the loudspeakers that sometimes broadcast Hitler’s speeches from the Kroll Opera, the building that was being used instead of the burned-out Reichstag. Presumably he was about to speak.

When they got back to the von Ulrich town house, Mother and Father were still in the kitchen, Father sitting next to the radio with a frown of concentration.

‘They turned me down,’ Carla said. ‘Regardless of what their rules say, they don’t want to give a scholarship to a girl.’

‘Oh, Carla, I’m so sorry,’ said Mother.

‘What’s on the radio?’

‘Haven’t you heard?’ said Mother. ‘We invaded Poland this morning. We’re at war.’

(v)

The London season was over, but most people were still in town because of the crisis. Parliament, normally in recess at this time of year, had been specially recalled. But there were no parties, no royal receptions, no balls. It was like being at a seaside resort in February, Daisy thought. Today was Saturday, and she was getting ready to go to dinner at the home of her father-in-law, Earl Fitzherbert. What could be more dull?