In the rear-vision mirror, Wilhelm watched Sophia in the back seat of his new Ford Customline, curling her legs so her thighs wouldn’t stick to the olive-coloured vinyl. It would be nearly ninety-five degrees outside, and the sky shimmered in the steamy haze.

‘We promised Sophia an ice cream,’ said Romy as she shifted in her seat and flicked her shoulder strap back onto her smooth shoulder, where it refused to stay.

Wilhelm glanced across at his wife, admiring her strong shoulders and proud square jaw. He reached out with his spare hand and traced the line of her neck with his thumb, allowing it to rest on her sweaty collarbone for a beat. He felt her shiver, and a flicker of desire shot down his spine.

‘Good idea. Why don’t we all have one?’ He pulled over to the kerb so Romy and Sophia could jump out. They ran into the deli while he looked for somewhere to park.

Five minutes later he slipped into the narrow corridor that was Hans Deli. Romy was standing at the glass counter laughing with Hans, deliberating over the selection of hard cheeses and sampling a new type of fat green olive. She picked one off the counter and held it up as the strap of her yellow sundress slipped from her shoulder again. She blushed and ordered the tub of olives.

A diagonal shaft of light streamed through the window, bathing Romy in a warm glow and making her dress look golden. Her hair—usually so curly—was tugged back into a tight ponytail, but threatened to unfurl with the humidity.

Wilhelm stood beside Sophia at the ice-cream counter. His daughter had her forehead pressed to the glass and was trying to choose between chocolate, strawberry, pistachio and lemon sorbet.

‘I wish I could have three flavours,’ she pleaded.

‘There’s not enough room in your tummy,’ said Wilhelm, ruffling her hair.

‘I have a special place for ice cream. A second stomach.’ The little girl looked up and smiled, revealing a dark gap where both her front teeth should have been. She’d lost them almost a year later than her classmates. He’d had to pull the second one out for her just last night. Later, when she was asleep, he’d left a shilling under her pillow. He was spoiling her. Romy always teased him about it.

An elderly man who had been finishing a cup of coffee in the back corner shuffled past with a baguette under his arm.

‘Romy? Romy Bernfeld? Is that you? I don’t believe it. You made it to Melbourne!’

Sophia had her ice cream in hand—chocolate and strawberry—and slinked up beside her mother, leaning her head against her waist. ‘Look, Mama.’ She held the ice cream up before she noticed the man staring at her. ‘Excuse me.’ She lowered her cone and took a shy lick.

Romy’s face was frozen, brows furrowed.

The child looked from the strange man to her mother, wrinkling her tiny nose in confusion.

The man with thin strands of feathery white hair stared at Sophia’s pendant for a moment, before blinking twice.

No-one spoke.

‘Sophia, hop outside, near the car. Quickly! Before the ice cream starts melting all over Hans’s tiles. Quick sticks.’

It wasn’t like Romy to be so brusque, and her slang felt awkward.

‘Oh, Mama, no,’ whined Sophia, who clearly did not want to go back outside. Wilhelm didn’t blame her. It was much nicer here in the air-conditioned deli.

‘Oh, so this is your little one. Hello, S—!’

‘Quickly, Sophia, I said go!’ There was an urgency to Romy’s voice. Not danger so much as fear.

‘Listen to your mother, Liebling. Off you go.’ Wilhelm came to the rescue of his wife. Something about this man was troubling her and no doubt she would tell him all about it when they were back in the car.

He wiped his finger down the side of Sophia’s cone to stop the melted ice cream dripping onto the floor. He licked the chocolate off his fingers and Sophia giggled. It was one of his favourite sounds.

He turned back to the old man. ‘Forgive my manners. I’m Wilhelm Cohen. Romy’s husband.’

‘Hello.’ The gentleman beamed and shook Wilhelm’s hand. ‘I’m Peter Adler. And I’m mighty pleased to see Romy and the little one doing so well.’ He scratched his head in amazement. ‘Was touch and go for a while there in Hong Kong.’

Romy snapped out of her trance. ‘Yes, sorry! Lovely to see you, Dr Adler, but I’m afraid we’re in rather a hurry…’ Beads of sweat were gathering at her temples and along the top of her lip. Her sundress hung lank against her body. It was as if Romy had started melting, along with the ice cream.

Sensing Romy’s discomfort, Dr Adler’s eyes darted between Wilhelm and his wife. ‘We’ve settled in Perth, but I’m in Melbourne to visit an old friend for the weekend.’

Wilhelm tried to steady himself by watching Sophia’s ponytail swing back and forth as she skipped outside between the cracks on the footpath. She was playing an imaginary game of hopscotch. Ice cream spattered in brown and pink dots on the concrete.

The bags of bread, salami and olives were hanging heavily from Romy’s hands. ‘I’d better get these in the car,’ she said, staring at her feet as her chest flushed red. When she looked up, her eyes were locked in a silent plea with Peter Adler’s.

What was the matter with her?

Dr Adler opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it. As Romy hurried out of the deli a look of resignation crossed his face.

Wilhelm took another lick of his ice cream, pondering his wife’s strange behaviour.

Seconds later, Sophia ran back into the deli.

‘Papa, are you coming? Mama’s already in the car.’ She pulled a strand of hair away from her face and tucked it behind her ear.

Exactly as her mother did.

Her brown eyes were twinkling. ‘Or I could get another scoop?’ Her voice was teasing. Hopeful.

Romy was always telling him Sophia was a proper daddy’s girl. ‘Could wind you around a cigar, that slip of a thing,’ she’d chuckle with pride.

‘Not a chance, my girl.’ He made as if to tickle her tummy and she grinned, deep dimples in each cheek. He gently poked her left dimple, and turned back to the stranger.

‘Lovely to meet you, Dr Adler. I’d, ah, better go help my wife.’

‘I understand. Very nice to meet you, Mr Cohen.’

Wilhelm said, ‘You go on to the car. Tell Mama I’m just confirming next week’s bread order with Hans—he wants a little extra.’

‘Okay, but don’t take too long. It’s so sticky in the car.’

‘You’re the sticky one. Look, that ice cream is dripping onto your wrist.’ He grinned and shooed Sophia out of the shop.

When he turned back to Dr Adler, the older man was putting on his hat. He was about to leave. Catching Wilhelm’s eye, he muttered, ‘I’m sorry.’ He shrugged and suddenly looked tired. ‘It must be this heat. I’m too old now.’

Wilhelm smiled and touched the man’s sleeve. ‘This heat, this country…it’s all new. My daughter—she loves it.’ He grinned. ‘She loves to swim, does Sophia. Lap after lap. Hates it when the winter rains set in.’ He was chattering nervously, trying to smooth over Romy’s abrupt departure. Then he stopped smiling, before leaning towards the old man and speaking so low only they could hear: ‘You knew Romy well in Hong Kong?’

Dr Adler looked down as his spotless black patent-leather shoes and shrugged his shoulders. ‘I…ah…I treated her.’

Wilhelm took a moment to work out how to ask his question. ‘By treated, doctor, might you mean you delivered our Sophia?’

The doctor’s head shot up and the two men eyed each other.

Hans’s big belly laugh could be heard down the far end of the deli, as he plucked a couple of salamis from hooks overhead. Two stout women were bickering affectionately in Polish at the glass counter as they patted their foreheads with hankies.

Wilhelm waited for the doctor to answer.

Eventually, Dr Adler lifted his brows and nodded in silence. Apologetic. He shifted his weight uneasily between both feet.

‘It was a difficult birth?’ Wilhelm was suddenly desperate to know the truth. Romy’s pregnancies slipped away no sooner than they began. He’d wanted to give her a child of her own.

A slow nod. ‘So much blood—a haemorrhage,’ he whispered. ‘But your wife, Romy—she was so strong. Brave. Insisted I save the child ahead of herself.’ He looked at Wilhelm and something shifted. ‘Romy said she’d already lost one child in the hospital bombing in Shanghai. This child was of the same blood, apparently. She was hallucinating, though. We very nearly lost her…’

The two men stood there for a minute in the hum of the air conditioning as Hans wrapped up the salamis in white butcher’s paper, whistling.

‘She had a friend—’

‘Nina?’ said Wilhelm.

The old doctor’s head shot up with surprise. ‘Yes. That’s her. I couldn’t have saved them both without her. There was a terrible typhoon you see. We had to make do in a bathroom.’

Wilhelm tilted his head to the side and considered the doctor for a minute as he took a long lick of his ice cream.

So this was why Romy had insisted they tell Sophia she was adopted. She’d shielded him from further pain and trauma by not revealing Shu’s death. Wilhelm’s family was dead. Li was dead. Shu had died, but death no longer shocked him. He thought of the tiny baby smelling of rice milk snuggled along his forearm and was grateful he’d been given the chance to hold her. To smell her. The war sprawling across continents had taught him to treasure these pockets of bliss.

Romy understood Wilhelm’s grief and guilt because hers ran just as deep. She’d always said her luck was bittersweet as she survived when her brothers didn’t. It was the same for little Shu. But in letting Wilhelm believe Sophia was his blood, Romy had forfeited any claim to Sophia as her own. She’d chosen to protect his heart—to forget her own needs—to give him the family he so desperately wanted.

He pictured Li’s lily hanging around Sophia’s neck.

Eventually, Wilhelm smiled. ‘That’s Romy for you.’ He didn’t think it was possible to love her any more, but this secret, this gift…

The doctor patted Wilhelm’s shoulder. In a low voice, he murmured, ‘I understand—’

‘The war—’ Wilhelm’s voice started to break as his eyes filled with tears.

Dr Adler’s eyes were watering too, and he pulled out a hanky to wipe them.

Wilhelm reached out and squeezed the man’s arms. The doctor had saved his family. Without Romy and Sophia, his life would be empty. He was lucky.

‘Thank you,’ said Wilhelm. Every bit of his heart felt full.

The old man nodded as a ripple of understanding passed between them.

Wilhelm gestured towards the door with a flick of his head. ‘I’d better go join my girls.’

Dr Adler smiled and tilted his hat. ‘Mazel tov.’

When Wilhelm opened the car door, Romy was shifting about in her seat, adjusting the circular skirt of her dress. Her legs were jittery. She spoke a little too quickly, glancing sideways at Wilhelm as if she were afraid to look him in the eye. ‘What took you so long?’ she asked, before softening. ‘Sorry, I just had to get the food in the car—I don’t want it to spoil in this heat.’ Her voice was light, but she was wringing her hands in her lap.

‘Oh,’ he said casually, ‘Hans just wanted to order a bit more bread for Monday. He’s selling more of the bread with Brotgewürz and the rye than he expected.’

‘Well,’ Romy said, a little too brightly, ‘that is good news.’

Wilhelm reached over and grabbed Romy’s hand, lifting it to his lips for a kiss. It smelled of peppermint. He held her hand against his cheek for a beat.

‘Oh, Wilhelm, what’s got into you?’

‘Nothing! Just giving my beautiful wife a kiss. Do I need a reason?’

Romy turned to face him, her eyes narrowed. She gnawed on her bottom lip, as if expecting him to say something else.

‘Did you…did Dr Adler—’

‘—want to know where to get the best whisky sour in town?’

‘Are you teasing?’

‘Never. The good doctor said he developed quite a taste for them at the Peninsula. Bit of a rogue, that one!’

Sophia giggled in the back seat and he caught her eye in the rear-vision mirror.

Wilhelm leaned over and straightened one of Romy’s lovely curls, just like he had that first Chinese New Year together in the ghetto. He kissed her softly on the lips as Sophia exploded with more giggles and covered her eyes with her hands.

‘I promise it was nothing worth worrying about. Hans wants to double his order—that’s a good thing, right? The least I can do is have a bit of a chat and say thank you. He’s been a great supporter.’ Romy sat back in her seat and exhaled, tugging that stray piece of hair behind her ear, clearly relieved.

‘Now let’s get you home out of this heat. Can’t have you melting. We might put the sprinkler on so Sophia can run underneath it a bit later.’

Wilhelm pulled into the driveway of Puyuan, where dusty pink roses and Chinese star jasmine spilled over the fence and wafts of vanilla drifted in through the car window. After he finished mowing the front lawn, he was looking forward to stretching out on the daybed on the wide verandah to read the paper. Romy would take advantage of the quiet and spread out her anatomy books on the kitchen table to study her herbs, scribbling away at the old manuscript and tweaking her treatments. He was home with his girls and there was no place he’d rather be.