12 October 1937

I sit at the back of the classroom as we are read Mein Kampf as a class. Frau Schmidt insists on it, ever since half the teachers at school were dismissed for using un-German texts. We studied it last year too. Now we have gone right back to the beginning and started again. The book was long and slow-going the first time. It’s soporific the second. And now we must go through it all again, tedious chapter by tedious chapter.

Frau Schmidt no longer bothers to initiate discussion. Instead, blessedly, she skips chunks and then quotes salient parts out loud to the class.

‘ “If we consider how greatly he has sinned against the masses in the course of the centuries, how he has squeezed and sucked the blood again and again; if furthermore, we consider how the people gradually learned to hate him for this, and ended up by regarding his existence as nothing but a punishment of Heaven for the other peoples, we can understand how hard this shift must be for the Jew.”’

Frau Schmidt ploughs on, appearing to neither notice nor care whether any pupil in the class pays attention or not.

‘ “The black-haired Jewish youth lies in wait for hours on end, satanically glaring and spying on the unsuspicious girl whom he plans to seduce, adulterating her blood and removing her from the bosom of her own people. The Jew uses every possible means to undermine the racial foundations of a subjugated people…”’

With every mention of the word Jew, Walter’s beautiful face swims into my mind.

Could Satan really be crouching beneath his peachy skin?

‘What if he isn’t black-haired, Frau Schmidt?’ I ask when she nods at my raised hand.

There is a collective rustle as the class turns to look at me.

‘I’m not sure I understand your question, Herta.’ Frau Schmidt pauses and removes her glasses.

‘I mean, what if he has blond hair and doesn’t look like a Jew at all. But he is one. What then?’

She stands, looking baffled, as if not sure how to answer.

‘What if he looks Aryan,’ I press, ‘and acts like one too? What if he has the best of manners and is courteous and brave. What if he believes in Germany just as we do? Is he still a danger then?’

Nobody makes a sound.

Thirty sets of eyes rest on me.

‘Why would you ask such a question?’ Frau Schmidt’s voice is strained, her cheeks flushed. ‘Because of course, you know the answer, don’t you? There is no difference, however the Jew may look. His true character will belie the outer casing. His blood cannot be anything but inferior. His mind can be nothing but flawed, and his intentions will have the same aim of self-betterment, whether he be fair or dark.’ She grips the side of the teacher’s table until her knuckles turn white. ‘I hope I have answered your question adequately, Herta,’ she adds, and replaces her glasses.