11.00am. 8th October, 1941.

At some point between a neighbour arriving and waking up, Ella Landa had been taken to a hospital. She had been examined, bandaged and sent on her way back. With him. He had not left her side.

He opened the door to their apartment at exactly 11 o'clock. They didn't speak; they hadn't since leaving the hospital. She slipped off the coat she was draped in and returned to where she last laid.

Red had stained the carpet. No matter how much she tried, she couldn't tear her bruised eyes away.

'I am so sorry.' He had followed her.

'I don't know how to get the blood out.' She frowned, scrunching her brow as she thought.

'We will replace it-'

'Mama will know.' Ella interrupted, making her way round to the telephone at his side of the unmade bed.

He left her; in search of food.

Moments later, his wife joined him; sitting opposite him on a small table. 'I am going to stay with Mariel.'

'For how long?'

'A couple of days. Until this blows over."

'You forgive me?'

'I'm going to pack my things.'