‘When the Germans came, first of all, for a week or so, there were non-stop tanks and lorries passing through, along the main road from the west. We could see it from our house. One day, some of them stopped and came to us. They said, “Your house is quite big – we like to stay here.” They speak in Polish language, quite polite. Of course we had to let them. My mother said never to take sweets from them – they might be poisoned . . . But of course we did! They were not poisoned, luckily. They shot some people in the village – they had a list. I remember hearing shots sometime.

‘Soon after, the Russians ratted on us. The Germans pulled back, and for weeks there were more tanks passing, and lorries and horses and carts, from the east this time. They were so poor, so shabby-looking, those Red Army soldiers – conscripts. They were eating raw potatoes. They took our house – with gun, not polite this time. They took over the village, taking everything, relieving themselves wherever they wanted . . . Horrible. Soon they took my father – not the soldiers in the house, but others who came. They were transporting the prominent people: teachers, intellectuals, doctors. To where, we did not know. We never saw him again.’

Katie felt a chill pass through her at this bald statement.

‘One morning in February – it was five a.m., dark, snow up to the waist – they came for us. I was . . . well, my father was not there of course, so I was the man of the house, if you like . . .’

‘But – what about your brother? You said you had an elder brother?’

‘Pawel, yes. But he was in the army. Polish army – we call it the Home Army. So he wasn’t there. We heard after a long time – almost by chance, when everyone is asking for news – that he was killed in western Poland, fighting the Germans, around about that time, I think.

‘God!’ she murmured. It was all too much for her to find any words.

‘That morning, the girls were screaming, and Russian soldier in long coat – his gun was pointing at my mother’s head. My sister, Ewa, shouted something and he hit her round the face with the back of his hand – his glove. Slap! She fell to the floor. They told us: Take what you can carry, take food, and put on the cart. We went to the railway station and eventually everyone – a big crowd of people – was put in the train. It was a train for animals – you know, cattle. We were many people in one truck: a hole in the middle of the floor for, well, for you to do your business. When someone wanted to go, people turned their backs, maybe held up a coat. It took six weeks, at least. It was winter; very cold. At night we all slept close together, family in a group. If you rested your head on the side of the carriage, your hair would freeze to it. A lot of people had to have their heads cut free, so there was hair left on the walls . . . People were sick. One lady had a baby in our truck. Can you imagine? When it was born there was no sound, no cry. The guards . . .’ He hesitated. ‘They take it and throw it out into the snow.’