For a moment, Karl floats between Vati and I. Take care, Little Mouse. I can’t protect you any longer.

My cheeks burn hot.

‘Yes, Vati,’ I say. ‘We understand each other.’

*

‘It’s done,’ I tell Erna later, now that I am, once again, allowed to attend BDM meetings. There’s no fear that I’ll be sneaking off to visit any more Jews. Erna, at least in Mutti and Vati’s eyes, has an untarnished reputation. She’s still considered an acceptable influence. If only they knew the truth.

‘Oh, thank the lord for that,’ Erna says, giving my hand a squeeze. ‘I can’t believe you pulled this off.’

We’re waiting in Fräulein Ackermann’s sitting room for everyone to arrive. Tonight’s meeting is to plan a pre-Christmas concert. There is to be music from our Schar’s band and from the local HJ Schar’s too. There is always an extra flutter of excitement when we combine with the boys’ groups. Any opportunity to meet the opposite sex is greeted with enthusiasm. A low hum of chatter, with the outbreak of occasional giggles, fills the room. Erna and I stand by the window, away from the others.

‘I’m walking on a tightrope from now on, though,’ I tell Erna. ‘Vati will never trust me again.’

She nods. ‘When is Walter coming out?’

‘In a couple of days but I’m forbidden to see him.’

‘Of course.’

‘I will though.’

‘Naturally.’ Erna smiles. ‘Happy to provide cover.’

A lump forms in my throat. ‘Thank you.’

Fräulein Ackermann enters the room with a tray of sandwiches and jugs of juice. ‘I think we’ll make a start, most of us are here.’ She casts her eyes over the group. ‘Come and sit over here, you two,’ she waves at us. ‘There’s room down here on the rug.’

We obediently take our places with the other girls.

‘Let’s begin with a song,’ she says, once we are all seated. She flicks through the pages of Wir Mädel Singen! ‘We’ll start with “Volk ans Gewehr”.’ There is a shuffling of pages and clearing of throats.

Do you see the eastern morning glow?

It’s a sign of freedom, towards the sun.

We keep together, whether living or dead, whatever may come.

Why do you still doubt?

Stop the wrangling; in us still flows German blood in our veins:

Our people to arms!

Our people to arms!

I cannot bear to form the words. I stop singing, my mouth tight shut until Erna nudges me, hard, in the side. She frowns and shakes her head imperceptibly. Reluctantly, I join in for the final verse:

Young and old – man for man embraces the swastika banner.

Whether citizen, whether burgher, whether farmer, whether working man,

they swing the sword and the hammer for Hitler, for freedom, for work and bread.

Germany awake, end the suffering!

Our people to arms!

*

Later, as we walk home together, I tell her the vow I made to myself in that room, mouthing those words to the songs.