The atmosphere in the flat had been warm and welcoming. I can picture Frau Keller, petite and pretty, with her light blue eyes and her fair hair cut to just above her shoulders and neatly curled in a fashionable style. In the high-ceilinged sitting room, I’d perched on the edge of a big armchair, scared to touch anything which might break. Frau Keller even had a maid who brought lemonade and delicate biscuits on a flowery tray. I remember Frau Keller playing the piano and laughing, her fingers dancing over the keys, and the jolly tune she played. She had asked if I wanted to have a go at the piano. But I was much too shy and I’d just buried my head in Mutti’s chest, hiding my eyes. I remember following the boys to Walter’s room. The shelves of books, his neatly made bed, the old-fashioned furniture and the tall clock which ticked and chimed in the quiet of the elegant hall.

‘I mean, I love my grandmother, and my extended family,’ Walter is saying, ‘but we don’t have our own space anymore. To make ends meet we have to take in lodgers – it’s our only income as the business makes no money anymore. So, I share a small room with my three cousins. They’re children, noisy and annoying at times. Not their fault, but it’s hard. And my grandmother is always on edge about having things just so for the lodgers. Besides, we never really know the views of those staying. Most people are fine, but it only takes one to make some sort of official complaint. So we are rarely able to speak freely at home. Sometimes the strain of it is unbearable.’

‘That does sound… difficult.’

‘And my father, he’s a shadow of what he used to be. It’s as if he’s aged and shrunk. Given up. Sometimes, I hate him for it. Hate him for not getting us out while we still had the chance.’

‘Why can’t you go now? Find somewhere better to live?’

His face crumples and for a moment I think he might break down. But he pulls himself upright. ‘It’s impossible. Too damned late. No country will take more Jews. They all say they have too many. Besides, we can’t afford the exit tax – I told you about it before. We can’t get our passports back without parting with a lot of money, which we don’t have, even if we could get a visa somewhere else.’

‘And your mother? What about her?’

‘She’s the strong one now. She keeps going, even though my father’s lost his will. And my grandmother. Without them I’m not sure where we’d be. Everyone just keeps hoping and praying things will get better. But they’re burying their heads in sand. They need to see the reality. Things will only get worse.’

‘Worse? It already sounds awful, Walter,’ I say, squeezing his fingers, where they lie next to mine. ‘How could it possibly get worse?’