A tram turns the corner, its light piercing the gloom as it trundles towards us.

‘Thanks for looking after me, Tomas. I’m fine now. Really.’

‘I need to get back.’ He looks towards the Brühl. ‘But I should make sure you get home safe.’ He looks down at me.

‘Seriously,’ I try to laugh, ‘I’ll be home in five minutes. I’m fine.’

The tram passes slowly, then, metal screeching on the line, it comes to a stop.

‘Tomas,’ I muster all my strength to look straight at his eyes without wavering. ‘Thank you for taking care of me. I will be perfectly safe. Go back to your duties.’ I force my face into a smile, jump on the tram and wave.

‘Go!’ I say lightly. ‘I’ll see you soon, I promise.’

I watch him standing there as the tram pulls away, legs slightly apart, torn between his duty and my safe-keeping. He raises a hand finally and then turns to go.

Nausea and a wave of dizziness overwhelm me. I sink onto a wooden bench, my head falling to my knees.

Walter. Please just be alive.

*

I can’t stop shaking. That contorted body, splattered blood. The head, crushed, face down in the road. Maybe he had a wife. Children. Grandchildren. People who loved him, called him nicknames, laughed with him. Not anymore.

The image of his face morphs into Walter’s. I begin to retch. I can’t stop it and I get off the tram halfway up Hindenburgstrasse and vomit at the side of the road. My stomach heaves and heaves. But I don’t feel any better when I’ve finished. Still shaking, I walk up the main road towards where Walter told me his grandmother’s house lies. Perhaps he is safely home now.

It’s quieter than the city centre, but a smell of burning pervades the air, even here. It’s as if war has broken out in the centre of our most civilised city. I feel as though I’m walking through a hideous dream I can’t wake from.

There’s another fire ahead. It’s hard to know, but it could be Walter’s house. A fire engine is parked in the street. Again, the firemen stand idly by, watching.

I stare up at the elegant façade, flames taking hold, roaring from within. The rock in my stomach grows. From what Walter’s told me of it, I’m certain this is his house.

I push my way to the front of the gawping crowd.

‘What happened to the occupants?’ I ask a woman, staring up at the flames with her two young sons.

‘They fled – squealing like rats from a burning barn,’ she replies, curling her mouth downwards, her face as sour as her words. ‘That idiot, Schloss,’ she waves a hand at the greengrocer’s shop across the road, ‘took the women in. Gestapo arrested the men.’

‘The men?’ I echo. ‘What men? Where have they taken them?’

Am I too late? I swallow the sour bile in my mouth.

‘Shipped them off to God knows where for the night. ’Bout time too,’ she adds, sniffing hard. ‘Been complaining about them for months. Having Jews in our midst like that – heaven knows what they might have done to our kids. Been living in fear, you know, it’s awful. I told Schloss, not that he listens to me, I told him he’s making trouble.’