Your affectionate brother, Willi.

I could just imagine my incorrigible brother in Rome, living it up in spite of the war, sweeping some voluptuous brunette off her feet. His letter reminded me of when we were younger, maybe eight or nine, at a time before our parents’ divorce. Willi and I were walking through a meadow in the height of summer. Ludwig was helping our father as he was old enough to be of value and rarely had time to play with us any more.

‘Come on,’ urged Willi. He ran towards an abandoned shed on our father’s property. He was always the risk taker, encouraging me to follow his lead.

‘No, we’re not allowed to go near the shed,’ I said, stopping in the tall grass, the swaying tips tickling my arms.

‘But I have to show you something. I can’t show anyone else.’ Willi grasped my hand, both of us hot and sticky with sweat. ‘You’re the only one who will understand.’

‘All right,’ I said tentatively. Hand in hand, we raced to the shed, my heart in my mouth, terrified someone would see us.

Willi opened the door of the shed carefully, its hinges complaining from lack of use. It was dark and cool inside, and something moved in the corner, a dark shadow, making me scream.

‘No, don’t scream,’ hissed Willi. He placed his hand reassuringly on my arm. ‘You’ll scare him.’

‘Scare who?’ I took a step backwards.

‘Prinz.’ Willi dragged me towards the bench and retrieved a flashlight. He flicked the switch and shone the light into the corner.

A ball of dark fur cowered against the timber wall.

‘What is it?’ I said, intrigued but not moving any closer.

‘It’s a puppy.’ Willi grinned from ear to ear. ‘I found him a few days ago. He’s too small to be on his own and I looked everywhere for his mother. I’ve been looking after him ever since. Isn’t he cute?’

I nodded, not yet sure. ‘You know we’re not allowed to have a puppy. It will scare the chickens. If it kills them, Vati will have our hides.’

‘Vati has his hunting dogs. Why can’t we have our own dog?’

‘I know. But if he finds out, we’re in big trouble.’

‘He doesn’t have to know. Prinz can live here and we can visit him every day.’ Willi crouched down near the puppy, its wide dark eyes watching his every movement warily. He pulled a paper bundle from his pocket. Unwrapping the package, he placed it in front of the trembling puppy. The tiny black nose twitched, sniffing the contents before it crawled towards the paper.

‘What is it?’

‘Scraps of meat from yesterday, cut up into tiny pieces,’ Willi said, watching the puppy carefully.

The puppy devoured the meat, licking the paper when it was finished. It sat back on its haunches, pleading for more.

Willi scratched the puppy’s head. Before we knew it, both of us were cross-legged on the dusty floor, the puppy wriggling between us, little grunts of ecstasy emitting from its mouth as we scratched it behind the ears and on the belly.

‘We have to keep him but we can’t let Vati find him,’ I said, the soft fur smooth under my hand.

‘I knew you’d understand.’

I helped Willi look after Prinz, slipping away to make sure he had ample food and water. Although we were already close, Prinz brought us even closer together. But as the days shortened into autumn and Willi prepared to begin classes at a new school, Prinz disappeared. Willi was distraught and I cried for days but nothing brought him back.

‘Let’s hope he’s somewhere safe,’ Willi whispered before he left for school.

‘He will be,’ I said, trying to be strong. ‘One day, he’ll come home to us. I’ll watch out for him.’

‘I know you will. I can rely on you.’ Willi smiled and then he was gone.

The following summer my parents were divorced. Our childhood innocence was gone.

Tears rolled down my face. I missed Willi terribly.

‘It will be over soon,’ Vati whispered. ‘Stay strong. Remember everything you have to live for.’ My mother, tucked into his other side, stroked my face, her hand clammy with fear, but said nothing. ‘We must lead by example. When we display strength and calm, others will follow and together we can get through this difficult time.’

He was right. My father knew how to get the best out of me. I kissed him on the cheek, the glow of that long ago summer still warming my blood. I knew how to be strong.

3

‘Lotte,’ called Bettina, as I was shrugging out of my overcoat. ‘Have you heard?’

‘No, what?’

‘Berlin was bombed again last night.’

I swung back to face her. The Allied campaign targeting Berlin had been raging for weeks. My father had been recalled to the army and sent to the capital. My eyes widened in alarm and I grabbed Bettina’s arm. ‘Where? How bad was it?’

‘Bad. The western part of the city was hit – the Ministry of Munitions, several arms factories, some barracks and a few embassies. Fires have been blazing all night, destroying anything the bombings left.’

‘The Führer?’

‘Fine. But something else – pamphlets were dropped saying that Germany has lost the war, that the Führer won’t concede defeat because it means his end. It’s disgraceful, the worst kind of propaganda to shattered and broken people.’ Bettina shook her head in disgust. ‘None of the government or Wehrmacht offices were hit. I’m sure your father’s fine. We can find out from his office where he went. It’s all right.’

I nodded, too choked up to respond otherwise. I had to telephone my mother, it was best that she heard it from me.

‘Mutti.’

‘Is everything all right?’

‘I just wanted to let you know that Berlin was bombed quite badly last night.’

‘Vati?’ Her voice quivered with fear.

I took a deep breath, trying to stay strong for her. ‘His offices weren’t hit but we’re trying to find out where he is.’

‘All right.’ I could hear the catch in her voice. ‘Let me know the moment you hear anything.’

‘We might not hear from him immediately, communication lines are down. But don’t worry. I’m sure he’s fine.’

‘Just call me as soon as you know anything.’

‘I will, Mutti. Goodbye.’ If anything happened to Vati… it didn’t bear thinking about.

Bettina used her connections to discover where Vati’s meeting was in Berlin and where he was staying. She plonked herself at my desk later that day.

‘He should be fine,’ she said quietly, the monotonous tapping of typewriter keys continuing around us. ‘He was nowhere near the bombings.’ She patted my hand and I just stared at her, not sure whether I could let myself feel relieved yet.

With no word from my father, life at home was tense. My mother and I moved around the apartment like zombies, jumping every time the telephone rang or the door opened.

Heinrich joined us at home on the second evening. The bombings in Berlin had continued again through the night, and I had gone to work at my mother’s insistence, but I’d been next to useless. Heinrich and I tried to make small talk with my mother but every attempt fell flat. She hadn’t eaten all day and by the dark circles and bags under her eyes, I was certain she hadn’t slept and had spent a good part of the day crying.

The shrill buzz of the doorbell punctuated the silence. The tap of heels across the marble foyer told us the butler, Herr Schmitt, was attending to the door. With a nod from me, Heinrich rose and went out. I glanced at my mother, her face frozen in fear mirroring the rush of despair I suddenly felt. I couldn’t stand it another minute. I jumped up, determined to meet this news head on, when Heinrich called, ‘He’s home! He’s all right.’

My mother sagged in her seat and I rushed to help her to her feet. Arm in arm, we crossed the parlour floor just as Heinrich entered the room with my father by his side.

‘Johann,’ my mother whispered with joy.

‘Amelia, liebchen,’ he murmured, as she smothered him in kisses. ‘It’s all right. I’m home now.’ My father’s hollow eyes rested on me and he smiled wearily. He held one arm out and I was in his embrace, solid as ever. ‘My strong girl,’ he murmured and kissed the top of my head. It was only then that I allowed myself to relax, the relief flooding my system making me giddy and sick to my stomach.

Heinrich took my arm as my father moved to the settee, still entwined with my mother. ‘You look pale,’ he said. ‘You need some fresh air.’

I nodded, too overcome to speak.

He guided me onto the balcony, where the sharp bite of the evening air numbed my face but was a cooling balm to my clammy skin, settling my stomach and clearing my head. I looked up into the night, stars faintly visible as tiny pinpricks against the inky sky. It was still strange to look out over the dark street. Ever since blackout had become a way of life I missed the cheery circles of the streetlights.

‘Better?’

I nodded, breathing in the frigid air. ‘How much longer can this war go on? Too many people are dying, too many lives are shattered. I sometimes wonder if it’s all worth it.’

Heinrich’s arms encircled me from behind, the fine mist of his breath caressing my cheek. ‘Sometimes I think about those who have resisted the course of this war, questioned the Führer’s wisdom.’

‘You mean the White Rose?’ Heinrich had told me how members of the resistance group, fellow students of his, had been arrested earlier in the year. He had been shaken by the viciousness of the Gestapo and the harsh sentences inflicted on those he knew and worked with.

‘They didn’t deserve to be executed. They were peaceful, young and idealistic and had seen so much. I served with a few of them on the Eastern Front – it was enough to make anyone question their beliefs.’