‘Did I ever tell you how beautiful you are?’ Walter smiles at me as we walk arm in arm.

‘Frequently,’ I reply, wishing he would lower his voice.

We cross the tram lines and busy main road and he leads me into Gottschedstrasse, a quiet side street flanked with tall buildings and a few shops with awnings overhanging the pavement. We stop on the corner outside an imposing church-like building, three stories high, with a huge iron door. Light shines from the glass windows above it.

‘What…’ I begin, but my eye is caught by the large, gold Star of David on the wall beside the door.

‘The Community Synagogue,’ Walter explains.

I shrink away.

‘Why did you bring me here?’ I look at him in disbelief.

‘It’s okay,’ he smiles. ‘You don’t have to come in. But hidden in here is the thing I want you to have.’

‘But Walter, that’s not a good idea.’

‘Why not? You don’t know what it is yet.’

Why not? A million reasons why not, but I can’t find the words. I look up and down the street. What if I’m caught, outside a synagogue?

‘Walter—’

‘Look, just wait here. I promise, I won’t be a moment.’ His face is alive with excitement, and he jumps up the four steps to the door and hammers on it, looking round at me, grinning. I melt back against the wall of the building opposite. A few seconds later a man opens the door and Walter is swallowed inside.

I stare at the iron door. What goes on behind it? Strange, alien prayers, foreign ways and an exotic language I don’t understand? Or perhaps devil worship and evil plotting? There is a pounding in my head and the seconds stretch to minutes. Waiting is unbearable. I check the street countless times. I could run away, but my feet don’t budge.

A man in an overcoat and hat suddenly rounds the corner and I panic. What should I do? I look so suspicious standing here in front of this place. I push myself off the wall and begin to walk slowly along the pavement towards the man, then I cross the street and pass him with my head bowed. A few more paces and I dare to look back. He’s gone. I exhale and slowly retrace my steps towards the synagogue.

At last Walter appears again from behind the iron door.

‘Sorry! The rabbi wanted to chat… Here.’ He runs down the steps towards me, smiling, and places a book in my hands. ‘I know how much you loved Metamorphosis. Hopefully you’ll enjoy these stories just as much.’

I stare at the mottled brown cover, slightly dog-eared at the edges, with Franz Kafka, Betrachtung, stamped on the front.

‘It’s a rare first edition,’ Walter says with pride in his voice.

‘But – but what am I to do with it? What if someone at home finds it, or sees me reading it? Walter, how can I possibly take this thing home? Besides, I might lose it!’ I hold the book out towards him. It feels dangerous in my hands, like a stick of dynamite which might explode at any moment. ‘Please, take it back,’ I whisper.