I shook my head, my blood boiling. ‘I would never take advantage of his family like that.’

‘These are strange times. You can prove your worth to his parents when the war is over. By all means, if Heinrich sees fit, go and work as a photographer after the war. If you’re feeling really ambitious, maybe we can help you set up a studio. You know we have the right connections. It won’t be hard to manage.’

I couldn’t reason with my mother, I knew that. I sent a pleading look to my father. ‘Please, Vati!’

My father put his large, powerful hand over my mother’s small, shapely one and gave it a gentle squeeze. Her expression softened at once. He leant across, touching his dark hair to her fair, wavy locks, and whispered in her ear. The look that passed between them made me feel that I shouldn’t be in the room. I watched them, suddenly wistful. I wondered if that look had always been there for them, or if it came with the bond of intimacy. Heinrich and I didn’t look at each other like that.

‘What’s this all about, Lotte?’ asked my father gently.

‘I’ve spent all this time learning to be a photographer. Now that I have the skills, I want to use them. So many others I’ve trained with have good jobs with the Wehrmacht, making a real difference, some of them even on the front. I want to prove myself, make a contribution and help the war effort.’

‘She wants to go to the front, Johann!’

‘You wouldn’t do that to your mother, would you?’ Vati’s tone was conversational but I knew that anything that upset my mother also upset him. ‘Don’t you think she’s been through enough? How would she cope if something happened to you?’

I stared at my feet, ashamed. ‘I know, Vati but I’m not a little girl any more. I’m a grown woman now. I want you to be proud of me,’ I whispered, daring to look up at him again.

The frown of consternation on my father’s face was reassuring. ‘We are, liebchen. You’re a fine photographer. But your mother is right. These are strange times and we only want what’s best for you. You are the apple of our eye. Neither of us could bear to lose you. We only want to keep you safe.’

‘We’ll be proud of you when you marry that boy,’ snapped my mother, her face as rigid as her attitude, but I could see the tears glistening in her eyes. ‘Heinrich’s mother and I have agreed to set a date sometime this summer.’

‘I’m not so sure,’ said my father. ‘The talk in Berlin is that Goebbels wants to increase conscription to women, boys from the Hitler Youth as young as fourteen and men up to sixty-five years of age. Single and married women with no children will get no exemptions. Once called up, there will be no choice of where you’re posted. I’m afraid that the chances are Heinrich will be called again, although God knows we need more doctors here, with all the bombings.’

‘All the more reason for them to marry soon.’ My mother sat straight and tall, as if she were made of glass and could shatter at any moment.

‘Nein, liebling. She doesn’t need that boy’s money or security. I give my blessing for them to marry when Heinrich has finished his studies and has a good job.’

My mother nearly jumped out of her seat with alarm. I had to wipe the smirk off my face as she glared at us but she didn’t bite back as I thought she would.

My father placed a hand on her shoulder. ‘I know it’s not what you wanted. But in light of this new information, I think it’s wise for us to enquire about military work opportunities. It would be best if Lotte had a position before any enforced conscription begins. After that, we can’t guarantee where she’ll end up or what she’ll be doing.’ He glanced across to me. ‘I don’t know that we’ll find a photography position. Most likely an office job, but this way she could be close to home, involved in the war effort like she wants.’

My mother looked slightly mollified, although I could tell my father still had some work to do to fully convince her.

‘Close your mouth, Lotte,’ said my mother brusquely, ‘unless you want to swallow flies.’

I dutifully obeyed, swallowing nervously as I looked at my parents.

‘I suppose it won’t hurt to see what’s available. A job will teach her some discipline – and the value of money, which will be useful when she has to manage her own household. A few conditions: I want you to promise that we both agree on the job and I want her to stay in München.’ Mutti reached for Vati’s hand and squeezed it tightly. I could see the tips of my father’s fingers turning red.

‘Of course, my dear. I wouldn’t have it any other way.’

My mother smiled sweetly at him and released her grip. He had the good grace not to snatch his hand away to ease the circulation back into it.

I leant back in the lounge chair, watching my mother. She had done it again – manipulated the situation so that she got what she wanted. True, my father had vetoed a summer wedding and allowed me to work with the military but, sure as hell, my mother would make sure I stayed close by. I could almost guarantee she would ensure there was no photography position, just to spite me.

‘What do you think, liebling?’ my father asked, smiling. I could see that he thought he had negotiated a solution between his two girls quite successfully.

What could I say without hurting his feelings? ‘Fine, Vati.’ I leapt up to hug him. The smell of the smoke from his pipe clinging to his tunic met me like a familiar friend as he enfolded me in his strong, comforting arms. My mother caught my eye, her icy gaze accusing me of ruining all her plans and her family’s impeccable reputation. I squeezed Vati tighter and was rewarded with a kiss on top of my head. I could not disappoint my father. He thought the world of me and I adored him.

Johann von Klein had only come into my life recently, not long after the war began, when he and my mother married following a two-year courtship. He was a family friend from Berlin, ten years Mutti’s senior, but she hadn’t seen him for many years. Mutti grew up near the Luxembourg border and had married my natural father after the Great War; he was already over thirty but she was only twenty. She never spoke about the war years but I knew that although my natural father was a decorated hero, he did not cope well with life after the war. I remember him as a moody man who exploded with fits of rage at my mother and who sank into periods of deep depression. All he gave me besides those bad memories were his looks. I was tall and fair like him, with his square face and broad forehead.

I was only ten years old when she divorced him, but I remember it was such a scandal to have a divorce in the family. Mutti couldn’t bear to stay, so she moved from Düsseldorf to München, where her grandmother had left her an apartment. My mother couldn’t afford to have us with her – she had no money because my father had spent all her inheritance as well as his own. My father kept my brothers but not me – I went to boarding school. Sometimes I wondered if Mutti sent me away because I reminded her of my father. My mother would come to see me at school one day every year, and what a day it always was. She lavished me with love, hugs and kisses, small gifts and her undivided attention for the whole day but then she would be gone again. Although I knew she had it tough, I was only a child. I thought that nobody wanted me.

I was fifteen and just finishing my land year when she married Johann. Mutti fetched me home. Her new husband was kind and generous. He paid for me to study photography and spoilt me like I was his own daughter, as he had no children of his own. He insisted on my introduction to high society, as he was from a long line of barons himself. My mother agreed that it was my birthright, joyfully arranging my ‘coming out’ ball. Nobody had ever bothered about me before and I was beside myself to finally become the centre of attention, in awe of being allowed to choose a magnificent gown for the occasion. I was crushed when it was cancelled. The war was escalating and many of our men were dying; it didn’t seem right to observe the social niceties when so many families had lost their loved ones. Already we could feel the perpetual optimism that buoyed a city like München, making it sparkle and shine, begin to fade.

And then we lost Ludwig.

Vati didn’t give up. On my eighteenth birthday, he presented me with adoption papers. He wanted me to be his daughter, to take his name. All the times I had been overlooked paled into insignificance. I was ecstatic.

*

I met Heinrich at one of our favourite places in the Englischer Garten. It was a good place to talk without our mothers lurking nearby. Entering the calm, cool green of München’s beloved parkland, the creeping unease I had begun to sense on the streets – despite the Führer’s assurances that Germany was winning the war – fell away, along with the chaos and noise of a functioning city, defiant in the face of war.

Heinrich was already waiting when I arrived, standing by the bank of the Schwabinger Bach, hands resting easily in his pockets, staring into space. He stood straight and tall, broad shoulders straining against the fabric of his suit jacket. I smiled to myself. I might just be able to surprise him this time. Approaching as silently as I could, I moved out of his line of sight, watching the close-cropped blond head that so reminded me of my brothers drop as though deep in thought. He was just about to start his exams and I was sure he was thinking through some medical procedure.

I was a few feet behind him and he still hadn’t moved. I couldn’t help but grin as I reached out with both arms and poked him in the ribs.

Heinrich whipped around faster than I thought possible, catching me off guard. I whooped, startled. He grasped my arms, pulling me towards him and as I glimpsed his sly smile, I realised he had been ready for me. Pulling back as he dug into my ribs with powerful fingers, I shrieked with uncontrollable laughter before we lost balance and fell among the grass and wildflowers of the meadow. I wheezed, winded by the fall, laughter still bubbling up from inside of me. I had landed on top of him. His smile of triumph faded as he looked up at me, his bright blue eyes clouding with concern.