‘Oh,’ said Frieda. It was the long drawn-out ‘oh’ of someone who has just seen the light.

‘Oh, what?’ said Carla.

‘Now I understand why you’re clutching that basket as if it contained the Holy Grail.’

Carla was thunderstruck. Frieda had guessed her secret! ‘How did you know?’

‘You said he’s not supposed to practise. That suggests he does.’

Carla saw that she had given Dr Rothmann away. She should have said that he was not allowed to practise. Fortunately, it was only to Frieda that she had betrayed him. She said: ‘What is he to do? They come to his door and beg him to help them. He can’t turn sick people away! It’s not as if he makes any money – all his patients are Jews and other poor folk who pay him with a few potatoes or an egg.’

‘You don’t have to defend him to me,’ said Frieda. ‘I think he’s brave. And you’re heroic, stealing supplies from the hospital to give to him. Is this the first time?’

Carla shook her head. ‘Third. But I feel such a fool for letting you find out.’

‘You’re not a fool. It’s just that I know you too well.’

The tram approached Carla’s stop. ‘Wish me luck,’ she said, and she got off.

When she entered her house she heard hesitant notes on the piano upstairs. Maud had a pupil. Carla was glad. It would cheer her mother up as well as providing a little money.

Carla took off her raincoat then went into the kitchen and greeted Ada. When Maud had announced that she could no longer pay Ada’s wages, Ada had asked if she could stay on anyway. Now she had a job cleaning an office in the evening, and she did housework for the von Ulrich family in exchange for her room and board.

Carla kicked off her shoes under the table and rubbed her feet together to ease their ache. Ada made her a cup of grain coffee.

Maud came into the kitchen, eyes sparkling. ‘A new pupil!’ she said. She showed Carla a handful of banknotes. ‘And he wants a lesson every day!’ She had left him practising scales, and his novice fingering sounded in the background like a cat walking along the keyboard.

‘That’s great,’ said Carla. ‘Who is he?’

‘A Nazi, of course. But we need the money.’

‘What’s his name?’

‘Joachim Koch. He’s quite young and shy. If you meet him, for goodness’ sake bite your tongue and be polite.’

‘Of course.’

Maud disappeared.

Carla drank her coffee gratefully. She had got used to the taste of burnt acorns, as most people had.

She chatted idly to Ada for a few minutes. Ada had once been plump, but now she was thin. Few people were fat in today’s Germany, but there was something wrong with Ada. The death of her handicapped son, Kurt, had hit her hard. She had a lethargic air. She did her job competently, but then she sat staring out of the window for hours, her expression blank. Carla was fond of her, and felt her anguish, but did not know what to do to help her.