Tom was starting to lose hope. He’d been flying the combined supply and rescue missions for weeks now, but he still hadn’t set a foot into Berlin.
Stalin turned out to be the arsehole everyone had known him to be. He broke his part of the bargain and didn’t allow the Western Allies access to Berlin as stipulated in the Yalta Conference.
Tom wanted to pull out his hair in desperation. Without a British stronghold in Berlin, there was no chance he could ever get there and find out whether Ursula had survived the war. In his heart, he felt she was still out there, waiting for him to return. Like he’d promised. Like she’d promised.
But right now he couldn’t even make inquiries about her whereabouts. How would he even explain his interest in a German woman to the Soviet authorities?
Thankfu
