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Chapters (77)
  1. Cover
  2. PEOPLE LIKE US
  3. Copyright
  4. Contents
  5. Praise for People Like Us
  6. Dedication
  7. Epigraph
  8. Prologue
  9. Summer 1929
  10. Part I
  11. 7 August 1933
  12. 17 September 1933
  13. 8 October 1933
  14. 11 October 1933
  15. 10 February 1934
  16. 11 February 1934
  17. 20 April 1934
  18. 19 August 1934
  19. 10 September 1934
  20. Part II
  21. 31 May 1937
  22. 25 July 1937
  23. 3 August 1937
  24. 7 August 1937
  25. 8 August 1937
  26. 8 September 1937
  27. 19 September 1937
  28. 20 September 1937
  29. 25 September 1937
  30. 10 October 1937
  31. 12 October 1937
  32. 14 October 1937
  33. 3 November 1937
  34. 19 December 1937
  35. 20 December 1937
  36. 21 December 1937
  37. 29 January 1938
  38. 10 February 1938
  39. 13 May 1938
  40. 7 October 1938
  41. 8 October 1938
  42. 12 October 1938
  43. 23 October 1938
  44. 3 November 1938
  45. 7 November 1938
  46. 8 November 1938
  47. 9 November 1938
  48. 10 November 1938
  49. 17 November 1938
  50. 22 November 1938
  51. 23 November 1938
  52. Part III
  53. 20 December 1938
  54. 31 December 1938
  55. 7 January 1939
  56. 4 February 1939
  57. 5 February 1939
  58. 1 March 1939
  59. 15 March 1939
  60. 16 March 1939
  61. 11 April 1939
  62. 16 April 1939
  63. 19 April 1939
  64. 10 May 1939
  65. 20 May 1939
  66. 23 May 1939
  67. 31 May 1939
  68. 24 July 1939
  69. 1 August 1939
  70. 18 August 1939
  71. Epilogue
  72. June 1994
  73. Summer 1995
  74. A Note from the Author
  75. Acknowledgements
  76. About the Author
  77. An Invitation from the Publisher

‘Of course. Take a seat, anywhere you like,’ Lena says, giving us a quick glance.

Walter pours some more tea from the pot. It’s lukewarm when I take a mouthful.

‘It doesn’t have to be like that,’ he says quietly. ‘You could be whatever you want, Jew or non-Jew. Scientist. Lawyer. Doctor. Friends with whoever you want. Marry who you want.’

His words are seductive, just like Hitler’s. Different words. Different promises. I feel like a butterfly tossed in a stiff breeze.

‘I’ve never been away from here. I have no idea what it would be like. Have you?’

‘No.’ He shakes his head, and slumps in his seat.

Who is right? And who is wrong?

Lena is back.

‘Can I get you anything else?’ Her dark eyes are troubled.

‘No. All fine, Lena, thank you,’ Walter says without taking his eyes off me.

I stare back into Walter’s flecked and beautiful eyes. The seduction of them. They pull me in so irresistibly, but I must resist. I have to stop this before I fall, completely.

‘I should go.’ I push my teacup to the centre of the table and stand up.

I try to see Walter for what he is. No ordinary boy, but a Jew who has tried to seduce me.

‘Yes,’ is all he says, sweeping a hand through his unruly hair.

‘I probably won’t come on Sunday. I think it would be for the best.’

‘Yes,’ he says again, not meeting my eyes. ‘As you say. It would probably be for the best.’

‘And just so you know,’ I whisper as I pass him by, ‘I never did tell Vati about Erna’s father. I didn’t have the guts.’

3 November 1937

Before I go to sleep I scratch words onto the pages of my journal:

I know I shouldn’t care. I shall probably never see you again. But I hate that you should think badly of me. Why does it even matter so much? You’re a Jew. You have no right to my heart. I’m worth more than you could ever be. You are pig-headed. You see things only from your side. You’re underhand and devious, the way you have wriggled yourself into my heart and soul. Into my head. I can think of nothing but you, and how I’m desperate to be with you, but know I shan’t ever be again. You turn everything I’ve ever known on its head, and you make me think about things I shouldn’t have to think about. I was happy, before. I knew right from wrong. Now everything is confused and broken. I want to hate you for it, Walter Keller. But I can’t. Could it be that I’ve fallen in love? Is this how it feels?

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