‘They have nothing better to do than spread evil lies,’ Mutti says, her voice firm. I watch her put the flowers in a vase and fill it with water. ‘That is what these people do. It’s very important you don’t speak with them again. These are difficult times. That’s why Vati does all this work for the SS as well as running the newspaper. They must protect Hitler and ban all the parties that seek to oppose him. Pick your friends carefully, Hetty. Stick only with good Germans, like us. Do you understand?’

‘Yes, Mutti.’

I follow her back outside, not wanting to be on my own. I look around the bushes and flowers at the edge of the garden. Everything looks calm and friendly, but I can feel the evil hovering outside the safety of our iron railings, and I shudder. I imagine a great big guard dog, patrolling the garden. Just the idea of it makes me feel safer.

8 October 1933

There’s a knock at the front door.

‘Who can that be, at this time on a Sunday morning?’ Mutti frowns. Tall and willowy, dressed in peach chiffon, she bobs down the stairs. A strand of hair works its way loose from the dark sweep of her chignon and she threads it behind her ear.

I pull open the heavy front door. Walter stands on the doorstep, hands in his pockets. I throw the door open wider and breathe in, willing myself taller.

When Walter was a small boy he would have looked like one of those chubby, blond cherubs which float about amongst the clouds in paintings of Mary and baby Jesus. Now he’s fourteen, he still has blond curly hair and blue eyes, but he isn’t chubby anymore, he’s long and lean like a half-grown horse. A boy-man.

‘Karl!’ Mutti calls. She stands, holding the smooth knob of wood at the end of the banister as if she is afraid to let go.

‘Good morning, Frau Heinrich,’ Walter says politely, stepping through the open door. ‘I wonder if Karl might be free?’

‘Come up,’ Karl calls, his grinning face appearing at the top of the stairs. ‘We can chat in my room.’

‘Hi, Walter,’ I say.

He bends down to untie his shoelaces and doesn’t seem to notice me at all.

‘Do you want to come out to the treehouse?’ I try. But he runs up the stairs after Karl.

Vati appears from his study, his hands on his hips. He scowls at Walter’s back. ‘That boy again,’ he mutters, glaring at Mutti. ‘You’ve not told him, have you?’

‘Come on, Franz,’ Mutti sighs, her hands dropping to her sides, shoulders sagging. ‘Please, not this again.’

‘Just because he once rescued…’ Vati throws me a look and I know he means the Almost Drowning. ‘I don’t like it.’ He turns and the study door bangs shut, abrupt and loud.

Mutti and I stand staring at each other, alone in the hallway. Invisible fingers crawl up my back.