‘Did you hear about Dr Kreitz?’ Erna suddenly asks.

I shake my head, remembering the old literature teacher. ‘Haven’t heard his name in a long time. He was a teacher at our school,’ I explain to the boys. ‘He got kicked out, ages ago. He made lessons fun, interesting. There are no teachers like him left anymore.’

‘Committed suicide,’ Erna exclaims in a rush. ‘Hung himself by the neck!’ She clasps her own throat and demonstrates the facial expressions of a dead Dr Kreitz.

‘Oh, but that’s terrible! Why would he do such a thing?’ I picture Dr Kreitz, all dishevelled and enthusiastic. How could he be dead?

‘Couldn’t get another job. Apparently, he and his wife were starving to death. The SS were after him, on account of his suspect political views.’ There is discomfort in her eyes.

‘That’s sad,’ I reply carefully, ‘I liked Dr Kreitz.’

Hermann, a sallow-faced boy with pockmarked skin, shrugs. ‘I hear loads of people are finishing themselves off these days. Especially Jews. They want to avoid a worse fate. But what could be worse than killing yourself?’ He takes a sip of water and stares at me. There’s an uncomfortable silence.

‘The SS must do their job, and they do it bloody well,’ Tomas suddenly growls. ‘I’ve personal experience of that, right? We should keep our noses out of their business.’

We all look at Tomas in surprise.

‘Sorry, didn’t mean to offend,’ sniffs Hermann.

‘Anyway,’ adds Tomas gruffly, ‘who gives a damn if a few Jews or other wastrels top themselves? A few less of the swine to worry about.’ He glances at the clock on the wall of the tall building opposite. ‘We should go. We don’t want to be late for our HJ meeting.’

The other boys agree and there’s a shuffling and scraping of chairs as they make to leave.

Tomas’s eyes linger on me a little longer than necessary, then he turns his back and I watch him and his friends walk towards the tram stop on Markt. Poor Tomas, taller now, but still awkward and skinny, he’s hardly the Aryan ideal. But the way he just spoke up for me then, it seems he looks out for me now, the way I once looked out for him.

‘He’s sweet on you,’ Erna remarks, watching him go. ‘What a catch!’ She giggles for the first time since we’ve been here. ‘Secret sweethearts, eh?’ She elbows me, teasingly, and I swipe her arm away angrily, heat rising to my cheeks.

‘I should go too.’ I turn away. ‘I’m having lunch at home before this afternoon’s meeting. Sorry, Erna, I shan’t walk. It’ll be quicker on the tram.’

I hurry towards the tram stop with an odd sense of deflation. It’s an irritation, a discomfort. It could be Karl’s imminent departure. Or the revelation about Erna’s father. Or the news of Dr Kreitz. Or Erna’s teasing about Tomas being my sweetheart. Or perhaps it’s because I decided I’m not going to meet Walter in the morning. Maybe it’s just the hot weather.