‘Well, it’s been very nice to see you.’ He slips his hand away. ‘I’m sorry things are as they are, but I wish you well. Goodbye, Hetty.’ He smiles and gives a half wave of his hand as he turns, shoves his hat on his head and walks away.

I watch him walk three steps.

‘Wait! When will I see you again?’ I burst out. Then I shrivel and bite my lip.

Walter stops and turns.

‘You really want to see me again?’

‘Only if you want to. I know it’s probably not a good idea.’

‘You can say that again!’

‘I mean, we shouldn’t.’

‘We definitely shouldn’t.’ He leans against the rough wall of the bridge and slides his free hand into his pocket, crossing one leg in front of the other. ‘It would be very dangerous. Especially for me. A dastardly Jew caught with a beautiful young German woman? I know of a Jew who was recently dragged from his house and beaten for being too friendly with the daughter of a tax inspector.’

Beautiful young woman…

Can he really think me beautiful?

‘But you’re worth the risk,’ he continues with a broad smile. ‘How about we meet at seven, next Sunday morning, here by this bridge?’

‘I’ll be away at camp with the Bund Deutscher Mädel. My parents never wanted me to join, but after it became compulsory last December for all Aryan children, they had no choice but to let me.’

‘In two weeks’ time then?’

‘In two weeks, yes.’

‘But not a word to anyone.’ Walter waggles a scolding finger at me, his face stern.

I nod and walk quickly away over the little bridge, turning towards the slowly waking city.

‘Come on, Kuschi,’ I call, looking back over my shoulder. Walter is walking away, square shouldered; basket at his side. He glances back and grins when he sees me looking. My heart skips and I am weightless, all the way back to Fritzschestrasse.

3 August 1937

Erna’s tread crackles on the rocky path behind me.

‘Isn’t this glorious?’ she asks. Her face shines with perspiration but her plaits are still neat, her uniform tidy.

The boulder-ridden path rises steeply ahead. The glory in these Bavarian hills has begun to pall after walking uphill for hours in a heatwave. I can smell my own rancid sweat and I wipe my handkerchief around the back of my neck, lifting away damp clumps of loose, frizzy hair from the remnants of my plaits.

‘My feet are in shreds,’ I reply. ‘New boots. Should have worn them in before we left,’ I add, wincing with each step.

‘Good for the soul. It’ll strengthen your character.’

‘My character was doing just fine without blisters, thanks very much.’ Tears prick at the back of my eyes.

Erna glances behind her, but the rest of the girls in our BDM Schar are spread out and the leaders are up ahead, so there is no one to witness my moment of weakness. ‘Come on, Hett, we must be nearly at the top. Just one last push and we can set up camp. Remember, Herr Hitler wants us girls fit, brimming with health and vitality.’