“Come on,” Eloise said. “We need a better view.” She turned and raced up the stairs, climbing all the way to the third floor before Ans could catch up with her. Eloise opened the child-size door that led up narrow wooden steps to the attic. Ans followed her, barely able to see in the dusty gloom at first. But as her eyes adjusted, she could make out an old dresser, a battered steamer trunk, a chair with a broken leg. Cobwebs draped from the rafters above her head. The attic didn’t have a floor, but Eloise was already navigating across some loose planks between the joists, making her way to a dormer window in the rear of the attic as if she knew every inch of the space. She dragged a wooden crate closer to the window and climbed up on it.

“Eloise, wait! What are you doing? Maybe we should —”

“We have to go out on the roof. We’ll be able to see above the trees from there.”

“The roof? I-I don’t think that’s a very good idea. We don’t have shoes on, and —”

“Help me open this window. It’s heavy, and I think it’s stuck.” Eloise grunted as she strained to open the grimy window. Dust and filth soiled her hands and beautiful nightgown. She beckoned to Ans. “Come on! Hurry!”

Ans picked her way across the splintery boards, arms outstretched for balance. This made no sense at all. She needed to stop Eloise, but how? “Maybe we should wait until morning.”

“Why wait? They’re bombing us right now.” The drone of airplanes sounded louder up here. There must be hundreds of them. “I told you this would happen, didn’t I, Ans? It’s just like the last war when they didn’t care if Belgium was neutral or not, and they marched in and took whatever they wanted, but this time they’ll not only take Belgium, but the Netherlands, too —you can be sure of it.” Her voice had the manic intensity that Ans recognized as a sign of danger. The higher Eloise’s mood soared, the further she might eventually fall.

“I still don’t think we should go out on the roof in the dead of night and —”

“Fine!” Eloise gave an exasperated sigh. “Stay inside if you’re afraid of heights. But help me open the window.” Eloise seemed determined, and Ans didn’t dare let her venture out onto the roof by herself.

She climbed up on the crate beside her. “I’m not afraid of heights,” Ans said. “I used to play up in our hayloft and climb to the top of our windmill. It’s just . . . it’s dark outside. And cold. And we’re in our nightgowns. Shouldn’t we get dressed first? Or at least put on shoes and coats?”

Eloise ignored her.