‘Morning, Little Mouse,’ Karl says as he sits heavily on the chair opposite. ‘Did I interrupt something?’

‘No, not really,’ I sigh. ‘Just the same old argument. Vati wants you to work at the paper and Mutti doesn’t want you to join the Luftwaffe.’

Karl helps himself to some bread and spreads it with butter. He places two layers of leberwurst on top, humming a little tune under his breath.

‘Why so cheery?’ I pour us both some tea and plop a slice of lemon in each cup, plus two scoops of sugar in mine.

‘I’m excited!’ He smiles broadly and takes a large bite of bread and sausage, chewing vigorously. ‘No more school and I leave for the Luftwaffe in only a few weeks.’

‘Are you that keen to leave home?’

I try to imagine life without Karl. His empty space at the dinner table. The silence without his step on the creaky floorboards. No more us.

‘I will miss you so much.’

‘Of course you will. And I shall miss you too, my Little Mouse, but—’

‘Will you stop calling me that?’

‘What? Little Mouse?’

‘Yes, that.’

‘No.’

‘Arschloch.’

He mimics my voice and says, ‘I’ll tell Mutti you used a bad word,’ and we laugh.

‘But really, why do you want to go? Vati could have you straight into the SS, and the Leipziger will be yours one day. You’d make a great reporter – with your charm you could get anyone to tell you anything.’

‘But Hetty,’ he leans towards me, eyes shining, face animated, ‘can you imagine anything more exhilarating, more exciting than being a pilot? The Luftwaffe will be the envy of the world. And I’m right here, at the start of it. Why would I want to join those stuffy Blackshirts? No disrespect to Vati, it’s just for me – I couldn’t live without being airborne. No feeling like it in the world. And after all these summers of flying gliders, I’ve got a dreadful taste – no, an insatiable appetite – for the rush of it.’

‘It sounds awfully dangerous.’

‘And you sound like Mutti. It’s a terrific thrill, that’s all. Our aircraft are the most advanced in the world. Other nations will soon give up, faced with our Luftwaffe. Perhaps one day I’ll be able to take you up flying, Little Mouse. You’d love it.’

I watch his face as he chews, reaching a hand up to sweep his hair back. His bicep swells under his shirtsleeve. Without me noticing he has reached manhood, and now he needs to break free, become his own person away from Vati’s dominating presence, away from Mutti’s fussing. Perhaps even away from me… The thought is a physical pain and for a moment I see how it is for Mutti.

‘Come on, Hetty, cheer up,’ Karl says, his face earnest and kind. ‘Let’s make the most of this last summer holiday together, eh? We’ll have some fun, I promise.’

25 July 1937

There’s barely a cloud in the cerulean sky. A lark hovers overhead, a tiny black dot against the sun. Its song, pure and strong, rises and falls, immersing me with its sweet joy.