‘What is it?’ The back of my neck began to prickle.

‘Let’s sit down,’ she said, guiding me to the tightly made bed. Bettina hung her head in shame. ‘It’s all my fault.’

‘What is?’ I repeated, confused and impatient.

‘You know the hauptinspektor has applied for leave to see his family in Elend? Well, the colonel gave me the telegram from the hauptinspektor to attach to his leave form, proper protocol, you know. As I was putting all the paperwork together, I noticed that the date on the telegram was January, not February. There was a postmark from Berlin, although the telegram came from Elend and arrived here a month later.’

‘How can that be?’

‘I don’t know, but from the date of the postmark, the telegram must have been ready to send from Berlin before the air-raid. Maybe it wasn’t sent before the bombings and only sometime after was discovered and sent mistakenly to Elend.’ She shrugged. ‘Perhaps the telegram had been worded incorrectly and the message should have said that his wife and family had arrived safe and well and were leaving for Elend.’

‘Maybe.’ I shook my head, trying to work it all out. ‘It doesn’t matter anyway. They’re safe.’

Bettina grasped my hand. ‘I’m not so sure. I showed the colonel. He called in the hauptinspektor, who confirmed that he hadn’t heard from his wife, even after the letter he sent telling her he was coming to get them.’ Tears filled Bettina’s eyes. ‘We don’t know if his family arrived in Elend at all.’

‘No!’ I clapped my hand over my mouth, aghast. My heart sank, the sunny optimism I had worked so hard to cultivate now grey and bleak like the afternoon sky. How much could one man endure? Erich didn’t deserve this. ‘How did he take it?’ I whispered.

‘He kept a brave face in front of the colonel, but he was shocked. The colonel agreed to help him investigate the whereabouts of his family and has already sent for information from people who can help.’

‘Surely they’re there.’ Maybe if I said it out loud, it would be so. ‘Everything’s in such disarray that even telegrams are easy to misplace.’

*

Erich was a mess. He wrote more letters to Sagan, Berlin, Elend and even Grottkau, but heard nothing. The few friends and acquaintances he could contact to find out if his family had left Sagan knew nothing. There was no news of his mother in Grottkau either, no way of knowing whether she and his father were safe and well. He continued with his work but the strain on him showed in little ways: forgetting meetings; confusing reports on different airfields. These were things I could cover seamlessly but I couldn’t help with the internal turmoil I knew he was experiencing. As he withdrew into himself, refusing to speak about it to anyone – including me – I could only watch and pray that he received an answer soon, one way or the other. It was the not knowing that was killing him.

After what seemed like an eternity but was only a couple of weeks, Colonel von Wissenbach’s sources returned the information we had been dreading. Erich’s wife and children were nowhere to be found in Berlin, Elend or Sagan. In fact, there was no trace of them anywhere. Inga’s relative in Berlin had also disappeared. It was possible that she was carrying the envelope with Erich’s details and she may have perished in the air-raid. Perhaps she had sent the telegram – nobody could tell for sure. The colonel’s sources had advised him that the likelihood was that Erich’s family had perished while on the run. It was tantamount to an official certification of death.

Erich refused to believe it and I could understand why. There were so many reasons why his family couldn’t be found, all he wanted was time to find them or for Inga to contact him.

*

It was mid-March when I received Mutti’s letter wishing me a happy birthday. After a long siege, the Americans had finally captured Trier, where my grandparents still lived. Despite the chaos, they were in good health and were well treated by the Americans. That in itself was a good birthday present. Perhaps the Americans would treat us all well, provided they reached us before the Russians.

On the morning of my birthday, wanting to feel close to my family, I reread the letter, placing Heinrich’s photo beside it. It was Sunday but there was so much work to do that any thought of a small birthday celebration with Bettina and a few of the girls was pushed out of my mind. Erich wished me a happy birthday but his eyes were dull, his skin was sallow and he seemed lifeless. He slumped over his desk, so alone and fragile, continuing to work through the pile of files stacked up next to him. There was nothing I could do to help him.

Bettina surprised me by announcing to the office that it was my birthday. Somehow, she had even managed to find a small cake that she cut into tiny slivers, giving each of us a soft, delicious mouthful. I savoured the sweetness and texture of the crumb in my mouth as long as possible, allowing it to take me back to the carefree days when my family was intact. Before the war, when laughter and joy accompanied the cutting of the birthday cake. After lunch in the dining hall, I decided to take Erich something to eat. At my insistence, Bettina was off to spend a few precious hours with Kurt. Our department was virtually deserted. I knocked on Erich’s door before walking in with the plate of food.

‘I brought you some lunch,’ I said. ‘You should eat it while it’s still warm.’

Erich dropped his pen, leant back in his chair and sighed. ‘Thank you,’ he said absently. ‘I never seem to get to the bottom of these files, no matter how long I sit here.’

Clearing a place on the other side of the desk, I put the plate down. ‘Come and eat. You need your strength if you’re going to continue, although you look like you could do with some fresh air.’

‘I’m fine,’ said Erich in a flat voice.

‘You’re pale and pasty. A bit of fresh air and exercise will get the blood flowing again, brighten you up. Then you should be able to concentrate.’

‘All right,’ he said automatically.

I watched Erich push the food around his plate unenthusiastically and finally stare out of the window.

‘Finish your meal,’ I said firmly. ‘You’ll get sick if you don’t eat properly.’ I picked up the perpetually full ashtray. ‘When I come back in, I want your plate empty and then you’re going for a walk.’ I pretended not to notice the look of shock on his face as I left the room.

Sure enough, when I returned, Erich’s plate was almost empty.

‘I’m sorry. I can’t eat any more.’

‘Fine,’ I said, taking his plate. ‘Your stomach’s shrunk after not eating much these last few weeks. Now get your coat, because we’re going for a walk into the village. It’ll do you the world of good.’

Erich didn’t argue.

We walked briskly towards the village in silence while I tried to work out how to make conversation. He was a fit man and his long, athletic limbs moved with a gracefulness I found fascinating.

‘You’re doing this walk so comfortably,’ I said, panting a little. ‘I’m curious. Do you hike regularly?’

Erich laughed despite his sombre mood. ‘I wish I had the time. I spent much time hiking and hunting in the days of my youth. You learn how to walk with the minimum of effort, relaxed but still keeping your wits about you.’

I nodded, remembering he had told me a little of his childhood in Silesia.

‘You on the other hand,’ he said, watching me carefully from under the visor of his officer’s cap, a smile spreading across his face. ‘You walk quickly and I can see you’re fit but you’re stiff and tight when you walk. You use much more effort than you need.’

‘It’s how I was taught,’ I said, offended, my footsteps crunching solidly along the icy path. ‘We learnt the right way to walk and hike when I was in the BDM. We spent many hours hiking through the countryside.’

‘March, you mean,’ he said, knowing exactly how to bait me. ‘I bet you all made so much noise that the animals in the vicinity disappeared well before you got there.’

‘I beg your pardon! Our group was always one of the best on the weekend hikes.’ I whirled around, almost crashing into him. Erich grabbed me as I slipped – the leather soles of my shoes losing traction on an icy patch. I pulled away from his grasp, glimpsing the grin plastered across his face. ‘I can manage just fine.’ I strode away, nursing a bruised ego and furious, not only because he had teased me but also because I had reacted.

It was with some satisfaction that I heard Erich panting as he caught up to me.

‘What are we doing in the village, anyway?’ he asked, as if nothing had happened.

I refused to look at him. ‘Well if you must know, the walk clears my mind and I found a little inn that serves Klosterbier. Good for body and mind.’

‘Very good.’ He was walking next to me once more. ‘I didn’t take you for a beer drinker but I’ll buy you for a drink for your birthday. I’m sorry that with everything that’s been going on, I haven’t got you anything…’

My annoyance at his snap judgements disappeared in an instant. ‘That’s all right. Your company is more than enough.’ Feeling my face redden, I pulled my scarf up over my cheeks. ‘I don’t usually drink beer but the Klosterbier is very good… I couldn’t ask for a better way to spend my birthday.’

We sat at a little table at the inn. It was intimate and cosy with the fire crackling merrily, only heightening the anticipation of spending a few precious hours in Erich’s company. My fingers and toes tingled pleasantly as tendrils of warmth thawed the frozen parts of my body.

One beer turned into two and then three as we relaxed and opened up about our lives. I told him about my early life back in Düsseldorf and about my parents’ divorce and boarding school; how I had felt so alone and unwanted. I told him about Vati and how supportive he had been of me since he married my mother. I cried when I spoke about my long friendship with Heinrich. I couldn’t believe that he might be gone. Erich wiped the tears from my eyes and somehow it felt right when he held my hand across the table, comforting and solid, immediate and real.