‘Of course not.’ I grit my teeth and ball my fists. ‘But it wouldn’t do you much good either, would it, Vati? Especially when Mutti is so hopeful you will get a promotion. I’m asking just a small thing. Release them and arrange for the family to leave Germany. Then all this will be forgotten.’

Vati walks across the room, his eyes locking on mine. Beyond the pale grey of his irises, behind the pinprick black pupils, is that uncertainty? Fear? It’s definitely something. A weakness. Capitulation. I take a step closer.

‘I will do nothing for the father and the uncle,’ he says at last. ‘Without a visa, there can be no reason to release them. If I find a way to get the boy out…’ His face creases in disgust. ‘If I find a way, then you will keep your bloody mouth shut and never say a word about this, or Hilda or Sophie, to anyone, ever. Do you understand me?’ he says viciously.

I unclench my fists.

‘You have my word, Vati.’

‘And if I do get him out, you stay away from that Jew-boy. Should you disobey me this time, Herta, I will not protect you. I will not support you and I will have nothing to do with you ever again. Besides,’ he fixes me with a look of pure malice, ‘we will get them in the end, you know. We will get them all, in the end.’

I walk slowly and shakily down the stairs. As I leave the building, Hilda and Sophie are returning, holding hands as Sophie skips along beside her mother.

As I pass them, a sudden anger towards Hilda hits. ‘How can you bear it?’ I say to her. The words tumble out before I can think about them. ‘How can you put up with sharing a man who belongs to another?’

She regards me with sad eyes. ‘I do not expect you to understand, or to forgive,’ she says quietly. ‘But… we love each other very much.’

And with that, she clutches the little girl’s hand more firmly and walks up the steps to her apartment block with her head held high.

17 November 1938

I know I should destroy this journal. But I just cannot bring myself to do it. Perhaps one day it will be the death of me, but for now, somehow, it makes me feel closer to Karl and to you, dearest Walter. I’ve barely seen Vati in days. When I do, he makes his anger with me very much felt and refuses even to be in the same room, as though he is disgusted by the very sight of me. And it is agony not knowing if he is going to help. I try so hard not to ask. If I do, it will only antagonise him. Mutti asked once if we had argued. I told her it was just a disagreement over Hausfrau school and she said no more. She is so preoccupied with her own grief that she is oblivious to the tense atmosphere between us. On Sunday morning, Erna, Tomas and I went to watch the news at the cinema. At least Vati doesn’t prevent me from doing that, yet. Tomas is kind and attentive, making sure I am all right after what I witnessed that night. But I’m disgusted and sickened. I don’t see how a nation that calls itself civilised can behave so brutally and thuggishly. I don’t see how our great German state, whose rulers talk of honesty and truth and peace and morality, can lie so blatantly to its people. But it feels as though I’m almost alone in seeing the truth.