‘Don’t tell me you’ve done anything with him?’

‘No, I haven’t. He tried to once, but I made it clear it isn’t going to happen. He’s said he’ll be the perfect gentlemen from now on.’

‘But Hetty, if you don’t feel the same way, you have to tell him.’

‘Yes, I know. When I find the right way and the right time.’

‘Don’t leave it too long. It’ll only get harder.’

I should tell her what’s holding me back, the power he has over me, but I don’t. She’d tell me I’m wrong, or that I could reason with him. But where Tomas and I are concerned, reason doesn’t seem to come into it. He’d take it as an affront that I would do with a Jew what I wouldn’t do with him. It would infuriate him beyond measure and he would be sure to want revenge. There would be no way of silencing him then.

I decide to change the subject.

‘What of the Kindertransport? Is there any news?’

Erna brightens. ‘Now, on that subject, there is something positive. The English government are raising the age from fourteen to sixteen, so possibly within a few weeks, all Walter’s cousins could go together.’ Her face falls. ‘On the downside, there is a long waiting list. And America has voted down their plan for a similar programme. President Roosevelt’s own cousin and wife of the immigration commissioner said that twenty thousand charming children would soon grow into twenty thousand ugly adults.’

‘What a horrible thing to say.’

‘Yes. Look, Hetty, we can only do what we can do. Try not to get too… involved.’

‘What do you mean? You’re involved.’

‘Yes, but only in the smallest of ways. Look, the Meuten have been brutally treated and broken up, the ringleaders sent to prison. It’s getting harder and more dangerous all the time.’

All my inner strength drains as I recall Vati’s discussions about the Leipziger Meuten. We are powerless. ‘I know. You’re right.’

She gives me a pat on the arm, and I follow her into school.

15 March 1939

Today is the day. I don’t know what time. I suppose it doesn’t matter. If only I could block it from my mind, think of something else. I told Mutti I was feverish and didn’t want to go to school. She doesn’t care whether I go or not. School has little meaning anymore and Mutti is so absorbed in herself that nothing really touches her these days. The midday light is strong and patches of sunlight splash colour onto the rug by my bed. I roll onto my back, stare at the ceiling. But it isn’t possible to think of anything else.

Today, the love of my life is getting married, only not to me.

My hand strays to my belly. I leave it there, resting on the soft curve of it. Under my fingers, the faintest of flutters. Butterfly wings. I quickly turn onto my side and they’re gone. Slowly, I roll back, gingerly placing my fingertips once more on the low part of my belly. My heart stops. There it is again. A tiny pulse beneath my skin. As if some ghastly insect has got trapped in there and is tap, tap, tapping to find a way out.