Dear God! Panic rises and I drop the paper on the table as if it had bitten me. True, we haven’t had sexual relations, but we’ve kissed. Does that count? I’m certain it would. Imagine if Vati were to find out? What if Ingrid alerts the Gestapo to follow me?

There really is no choice now, and I have no time to lose.

*

Mutti and Vati, resplendent in evening dress, wait in the hallway for their car to collect them. Mutti is brimming with enthusiasm after her visit to the children’s home. She waves a book entitled, Raising the Ideal German Child: A guide for modern mothers.

‘Full of advice on how to toughen the next generation. This will be most useful for my orphans,’ she says. ‘Don’t wait up for us, Hetty. After an early dinner with Judge Fuchs, we are going to the opera.’ There is a flurry of sliding on gloves, hats, fur stole and outdoor shoes, and then they are gone, leaving a faint whiff of smoky cologne and flowery scent behind them.

I fetch the Kafka from beneath my mattress and stare at its cover. Once, I would have delighted in this book, devoured it with hunger. I finger it tentatively, turning to the first page. I try to read, but I can’t concentrate. The words tumble over themselves on the page. It’s evidence of my non-German thoughts. I must be rid of it. Fast. I snap it shut and slip it into my pocket.

I approach the kitchen to collect Kuschi, as always my excuse to go out. Ingrid is talking.

‘I saw it with my own eyes, Bertha, honest to God, it’s true!’ Ingrid’s voice is high with indignation. Bertha’s reply is quieter, mumbled so I can’t hear. ‘Seriously, something should be done. I mean—’

I walk into the room before she can say more. She starts at the sight of me.

‘Something should be done about what?’ I ask. She’s sitting at the table, her feet up on a chair, a cup in her hand. Bertha’s at the sink, scrubbing potatoes.

‘Sorry.’ She swings her legs down from the chair, slowly, as though trying to make a point. ‘I didn’t mean to offend.’

‘What was it you were saying,’ I probe. ‘Don’t let me stop you.’

Her cheeks flush and she looks to Bertha for help. Bertha shrugs and goes back to her scrubbing.

‘It was just some silly gossip in the fishmongers this morning, Fräulein. People talk these days, you know. Everyone watching everyone else, you never know who’s going to report on who. Anyone with a grudge. How do you prove it, if you didn’t do anything wrong?’

I burn hot and walk across the room, taking Kuschi’s leash from the hook, bending down to hide my face. I fix the leash to his collar with trembling fingers.

‘No one will have anything to worry about if they abide by the law. Only those with something to hide have a reason to fear,’ I say at last, looking her straight in the eye. ‘I’m going for a walk with the dog. Not sure when I’ll be back.’