‘Hello,’ she says in a kind voice. ‘I’m Fräulein Müller. And you must be Herta?’

Vati, big as a bear and smart in his stiff Schutzstaffel uniform appears from the study. He hands a couple of thin document folders to Fräulein Müller.

‘Hello, Schnuffel. I’m afraid I must leave you for a couple of days. I have to go to Berlin, on SS business.’ He hugs me, pressing my head into his chest. The hard buckle on his leather chest strap digs into my cheek. ‘Where’s your mother? ‘Hélène, Hélène!’ His voice reverberates in his chest.

‘Franz?’ Mutti, wearing a wide-brimmed straw hat and a floaty dress evidently recovered from her headache, glides in from the back garden, a bunch of flowers in one hand, scissors in the other. Karl trails in behind her. ‘What are you doing home so early?’ Mutti asks in surprise.

‘Ah, there you are. Hélène, this is Hilda Müller, my new secretary.’ The young woman smiles and nods at Mutti. ‘Listen, I have to travel to Berlin. It’s urgent – more trouble with the communists.’ He sighs. ‘But I must also finish my weekly editorial for the Leipziger this afternoon, so the copy is ready for tonight’s deadline. Fräulein Müller will accompany me to organise that.’ He stops suddenly and rubs his hands over his face, kneading his eyes with the tips of his fingers. Poor Vati is exhausted with his two jobs.

‘Will you stay with Oma Annamaria?’ Karl asks.

‘Not if I can help it,’ Vati replies swiftly. ‘What I meant to say,’ he adds, ‘was I shall visit my mother if I have the time, but I’m likely to be far too busy.’ He turns to Mutti. ‘I’ll telephone this evening,’ he says, taking her hands and kissing her on the cheek. ‘Goodbye, Schnuffel,’ he says to me, ‘be good for your mother.’

‘Yes, Vati,’ I look up to his face, framed by slicked-back, fair hair. I search his pale eyes for affection and hope he sees only goodness in mine. But he is already looking at his watch.

‘We must go.’ He turns to Karl. ‘I’m leaving you in charge, young man. Take care of your sister and mother.’

We stand at the front door and watch Vati and Fräulein Müller climb into the waiting sleek, black car. The woman’s skirt is so tight it scrunches up around her thighs as she gets in. Her behind is large and round and she waddles like a goose.

‘Mutti,’ I say, once they have gone, ‘the Goldschmidts, who live across the road, told me Vati stole this house. But how can you steal a house?’

Mutti whirls around and stares at me. ‘They said what? Why were you talking to them?’

‘They’ve got a little dog. I just wanted to stroke it. Can I have a dog now we live here?’

‘You mustn’t talk to such people.’

‘I only wanted to stroke the dog.’

‘But they are Jews, Hetty.’

The word sends a shiver down my back. How was I to know? Karl wrinkles his nose and says, ‘Dirty pigs, Jews.’