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He poured himself another wine, slugged it back in one go, and slammed his clenched fist down on the table. “It’s my fault. My responsibility.”

“Surely, you can’t be the only—”

“You don’t understand, Johanna.” He stood swiftly, turning the chair over.

She tensed and pulled back, an automatic reaction to the expectation of him lashing out at her. When he didn’t, she exhaled and rested her hand on the table.

“I’ve been reassigned.”

“What do you mean, reassigned?”

He laughed: a strangled noise that curdled her stomach.

“I am lucky, you see.”

Johanna was confused, and he sounded deranged. “What do you mean?”

He stared at her, and it was as though the ghost of him walked through her. A tingling chill slid down her spine.

“They could have executed me. Instead, I have a new post. Demotion is better than death, I suppose. I will learn to live with the humiliation.”

Johanna’s heart dropped into her stomach as the realisation of the consequences for her and Astrid hit her. If he was moving, so were they. “Where are we going?”

“Belsen. I am being reassigned to help at the concentration camp there. You are being sent back to Berlin.”

The voice in her head screamed “no” repeatedly and the room started to spin. She felt as though she was rising out of her body, staring down at this incomprehensible scene. It was a joke. No, it was a nightmare, and she was going to wake up any second. She pinched her arm and watched the red mark appear. There was a deep burning ache in her chest, and, thinking about Fabienne, it turned sharp and pierced her heart with such a force she thought she was going to die.

“When do we leave?” she asked, the words coming automatically. She could hardly hear herself speak.

“I leave tomorrow. You will leave on Friday. Schmidt will go with you, Nanny and Astrid. There will be two other guards assigned to your detail, though I don’t know who they are yet.”

His words had become garbled after he’d said Friday. She shook her head, her mind trying to trick her that this wasn’t happening. But it was very real. She couldn’t move from the chair, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t look at him.

He turned from her. “I’m going to my room until dinner.”

She sat at the table for some time, trying to settle the emotional turmoil that churned inside her and think clearly. She didn’t know how she was going to do it, but neither she nor her daughter were going back to Berlin. She had to talk to Fabienne.

***

Fabienne had just started up the stairs when the knock on the back door came.

Johanna was ghostly white. The excitement of earlier had been drained from her by something horrific. Fabienne was sure this was to do with Gerhard returning home in a foul mood. Her stomach lurched.

As Johanna stepped into the house, Fabienne checked her over. There was no obvious evidence that she’d been hit or hurt physically, though she moved slowly, deliberately.

Fabienne coaxed her to the table and helped her to sit, crouched down to her and caressed her cheek. “What happened?”

Johanna stared up at her. “We’re leaving.”

Fabienne lowered her hand. A lead weight plummeted in her stomach. Her worst fears had raised their serpent heads and were ready to strike the final, devastating blow. She pressed the heel of her hands to her eyes to block out the scene that kept playing through her mind. “Why? When?”

“Gerhard is leaving tomorrow, and we are going back to Berlin on Friday.” Johanna shook her head. “He’s been reassigned because the mission failed yesterday. I don’t know what to do.”

“Putain, putain, putain!” Fabienne got to her feet and drove her fingers through her hair as she paced the kitchen. She couldn’t lose Johanna, not now, not after everything they’d been through. Not after making love as they had done yesterday. She stopped pacing and turned to Johanna. “You can’t go.”

Johanna shook her head. “I don’t want to go. Earlier, I was adamant we wouldn’t, but after having had hours to think about it, I can’t see a way of avoiding it.”

Fabienne retrieved the bottle of brandy from the cupboard, and two glasses. Mamie came into the kitchen. She took out a third glass and poured their drinks.