*

Later, Karl goes out to say goodbye to a friend. Mutti suspects he has a secret sweetheart, but I know this cannot be true. He would have told me if he did. We’ve always told each other everything.

Except one thing.

I go to my room, pull my journal from beneath my mattress and curl up on my window seat to wait for Karl to return. I draw a simple picture of a red heart, split and broken in loneliness. Still smarting from our conversation over dinner, I can’t fathom the will to write anything. There is an enormous gulf between the possible world painted by Walter’s optimistic strokes, and the one I know to be real.

Oh, Mein Führer, give me the strength to know right from wrong. Good from evil. Please help me.

Individualism is stupid and obstinate. His voice pounds my brain. That path leads to ruination. Everyone must obey orders. I was an ordinary soldier for six years and I never once answered back. Each and every one of us must complete our own struggle. Provided you always have Germany at your heart, and you are pure of soul, you will know what you must do.

I stare at his portrait. Usually it calms me, but not today. It’s as though a tiny fraction of my soul has broken off and flies free with Walter and I’m certain I will never get it back. That part will never obey – I finally understand that.

A couple of hours later I hear Karl return and I creep into his room. I don’t want to sleep, knowing he will be off first thing in the morning. I smell beer on him and wonder when it was that he started drinking. I lie on his bed and watch him collect his shaving brush and razor, alarm clock, books and writing things and place them neatly in a small case.

‘Well,’ he says, sitting down with me on the bed, ‘this is it. I shall miss you, Little Mouse.’

‘Me too. Just look after yourself, you.’

‘Oh, you needn’t worry about me, Schatz.’ I smile when he calls me treasure. ‘It’s you I worry about.’ He digs me playfully in the ribs.

‘But will it really be as bad as Vati says? All this toughening up?’ I don’t want Karl to change. I want him to stay as he is. Kind. Protective. Gently teasing. All the things an older brother should be. I’m afraid of what he might become.

‘No, of course not. You know what Vati’s like. He thinks everyone is a big softy. Not like they used to be in his day. In the war.’

‘I suppose you’re right. Let’s hope your Luftwaffe superiors are not like Vati, then.’

‘God forbid!’ Karl rolls his eyes and laughs. I wrinkle my nose at his beer-laden breath. He pats my hand. ‘Shouldn’t you be going to bed now?’

‘I’m not tired yet. Karl – I need to ask you something.’ I swallow.