The move happened quickly; we wanted to be in before Erich went to collect his mother from Hamburg. We found a lovely little house in Illesheim, with three bedrooms – one upstairs in the attic with a small adjoining space, perfect for Karoline. A tall beech tree stood like a guardian in the front yard, casting the front path and little wooden gate with dappled light. There was an enclosed garden for the girls out the back, where Erich envisioned a vegetable garden and I imagined brightening with some colourful flowers. A wonderful spot for family photos, I thought, candid shots of the girls with their father and grandparents. It was lovely to be in the village and away from the stinking farmyards and endless mud. We even had electricity and running water that flowed plentifully and easily from the taps. It was bliss.

Karoline hobbled into the house on Erich’s arm. She was a tiny, wizened lady with hazel eyes, her grey hair braided and pinned to the top of her head. Erich looked very much like her. I could see the pain in her eyes each time she took a step but she bravely carried on, smiling sweetly as she came to greet me.

‘My dear Lotte,’ she said, holding my hands between hers, her skin dry and leathery with thick calluses across her palms. ‘I’ve heard so much about you. It’s a pleasure to meet you.’

‘The pleasure is mine,’ I said graciously. ‘I’m so glad to finally meet you and for the girls to meet their grandmother.’ The tears in her eyes sparkled in the light. I could only imagine how she was feeling. She had lived long enough to return to Germany, see her only son again and discover two new granddaughters.

Karoline didn’t say too much in the early days, simply focusing her energies on her new surroundings. Readjusting to the noises of everyday life, particularly with two active little girls, she slowly regained her strength. Her body healed, her dreadful hacking cough disappeared and finally she moved without much pain. She loved spending time with the girls, walking around the village with them, pushing Johanna, who was now three, in the pram when she got tired. When she became stronger, they would walk past the village, into the farmland. Some days they would return with strange bulges under Johanna’s blankets, all three looking innocent as lambs.

‘Mutti,’ Greta often shouted excitedly as they came through the door. ‘Look what Omi found on our walk!’ Johanna would pull back the blanket in her pram with a little screech of anticipation and displayed pumpkins, corn or cabbages, fruit or even on occasion, eggs.

I was always surprised, Karoline being a good Catholic and all. How could I explain to small children that this wasn’t right when their grandmother continued to behave that way? Maybe the years in the work camp had honed her instinct for survival to such an extent as to override her morality.

‘Put them in the kitchen, Greta,’ I said countless times. ‘Next time, make sure they don’t belong to anyone else. If they do, we can’t take them, it’s stealing.’ Greta nodded seriously but I wondered how much my words sank in when her grandmother continued to steal. Part of me felt like a hypocrite too, as Erich and I had done exactly the same thing when Greta was a baby.

Karoline insisted on prayers at the table before eating. Torn between amusement and dismay at her piety, I respectfully listened to her pray, amazed that Erich slipped back into the habit almost without thought. I couldn’t help but wonder at the hypocrisy of thanking God for the food that Karoline had stolen but I let it go. Prayer had helped me before, maybe it was time to give a little back in thanks. Karoline began to teach the girls the words of the prayers and knelt by their beds with them at night, teaching them the bedtime prayer. It wasn’t my way but it was obviously a tradition in Erich’s family, so I allowed her.

Heinrich still wrote to me. Not love letters but letters telling me about his day, sharing his thoughts as we once used to. At first, I didn’t reply, but he persisted. Finally, I replied with letters of my own, telling him about my life, about how the girls were growing and including the photographs I was now able to take of them. I didn’t tell Erich. I didn’t want him to become jealous again. I didn’t want him upset.

Erich had finally begun divorce proceedings using the solicitor who had helped him in the bigamy case. I knew how much he wanted Eva and Walter closer to him and how he had looked into ways of getting them across to West Germany. He soon discovered that in order for the divorce to be finalised, it was best for Inga to be present in the West, perhaps even impossible if she was not at least in the country. I was not happy about Erich’s hard-earned money going towards bringing Inga closer to us but it seemed I had no choice if I wanted this divorce to go ahead. I gritted my teeth and helped him investigate the best way to bring them across the border. This was not an easy thing to do with the tensions between Russia and the West escalating. It was a delicate endeavour that required the right connections and payments.

*

‘They’re coming,’ Erich said one late autumn afternoon when he returned from work.

‘What are you talking about?’ I was folding washing at the dining table. The girls were upstairs with Karoline.

‘Inga and the children. I’ve finally managed it. They’re crossing the border in two weeks!’ His face was alight with joy. He hadn’t seen his children in over seven years.

‘That’s wonderful!’ I smiled. ‘Where will they go?’

‘Here, of course.’ Erich looked at me, dumbfounded. ‘Where else did you expect them to go?’

I stared at him, the smile frozen on my face. ‘What? You can’t be serious. There’s no room here.’ Suddenly I felt light-headed. I put my arm out to steady myself and found the edge of the table.

Erich rushed across and pulled me to him, keeping me from falling. ‘It’s all right. This is the only way we can accomplish what we want. We’ll manage somehow.’ Erich wrapped his arms around me, kissing me soundly.

I pulled away. ‘I won’t have that woman here. She’s the reason we’re in this mess in the first place. If she hadn’t reported you, everything would have been fine.’

‘But, Lotte, the children.’

I turned away from the hurt in his eyes. ‘The children can stay but she has to find somewhere else, preferably far away from here,’ I said, sorting the washing absently. I knew I sounded bitter but I couldn’t help it. The past two years of knowing our marriage wasn’t recognised ate away at me.

‘You can’t separate them.’ I could hear the note of exasperation in his voice. ‘They’ve been through so much and the children don’t know you.’

‘I’m telling you, I won’t have her here.’ I shook my head in frustration, tears pricking my eyes. I couldn’t do this. It was more than I could take.

‘They’re all coming, Lotte, that’s the end of it,’ said Erich irritably.

I swung around to him, face red with fury. ‘If she comes here, don’t expect me to stay. I’ll take the girls and go home until she’s gone.’

‘It could take months until the divorce is done.’

‘I don’t care,’ I said, ‘I cannot live like that.’ I stared him down, wanting him to know how serious I was, but my heart was racing, afraid of what he might do. He glared back at me, neither of us willing to give way to the other.

Finally, he jerked his eyes away, raking his fingers through his hair in frustration. ‘Stop being so dramatic,’ he snapped. ‘It’s not that bad. It won’t be comfortable but we’ll get through it.’

I couldn’t believe it. I had seen the fear in his eyes – fear that I would leave, fear that he would lose his children – but I had been sure he would understand me. I stormed past him without saying a word. I couldn’t speak. I grabbed my coat from the hook by the door, and left, slamming the front door quite satisfyingly behind me.

*

Inga and the children came to live with us. When it came down to it, I couldn’t leave. I didn’t trust Inga with my husband and I was determined to watch her like a hawk.

Much to my annoyance, Karoline was very fond of Inga, insisting that she stay in the attic with her. She did have a double bed after all, but her attitude to Inga irritated me further, leaving me tense and short tempered. Erich bought a little camp bed for Walter to sleep in next to his mother. Eva slept in Johanna’s bed, while the girls shared Greta’s. It was cramped and I was not happy.

‘Thank you for putting us up,’ said Inga stiffly to Erich when they arrived. She didn’t even acknowledge me standing by Erich’s side, falling immediately into Karoline’s arms with a little cry of joy. ‘Mutti!’ she exclaimed, making me clench my teeth in aggravation. Of course she would call her Mutti.

‘My dear Inga,’ sobbed Karoline, her face wet with tears. ‘It’s been so long since I’ve seen you and the children. How I’ve missed you.’

‘Hello, Eva, Walter,’ said Erich softly to his children, who hung back shyly, near the front door. Walter, tall and gangly, almost in his teens, looked warily between Eva and his father, waiting to see what she would do. He was only a small boy when he had last seen his father. At sixteen, Eva was a young woman, and remembered her father more vividly. I stepped back to let them have their moment.

‘Hello Vati,’ she said, the edges of her mouth lifting in a small smile. Erich held out his arms and Eva launched herself into them.

‘Come, Walter,’ said Erich, holding his crying daughter, who now stood less than a head shorter than he. Walter came forward tentatively and Erich wrapped his arms around his children. ‘It’s so good to see you again,’ he whispered. He kissed the tops of their heads, almost the same height, and I could see that he never wanted to let them go. I felt tears well in my own eyes. We had thought them gone. This was truly a miracle.