Terror held Flors stiff; she was unable to release the deep breath she’d taken in, as she turned her head to the left and looked at Ella, who had her hand over Lonia’s mouth. This must be a regular stopping point for the soldiers as, still laughing, they made straight for the cubicle. The sound of them both urinating, and giggling while they did so, told Flors they must somehow have stood on each side of the hole. Although she could only pick up a smattering of what they said, they were acting the fool and peeing on each other’s shoes, as any young men might do. In a strange way, she felt sadness at this thought. No matter what side they were on, at the end of the day they were just youngsters like Freddy and Randie.

Then anger seeped into her. No, these were not just any youngsters, but the sons of a country that was tearing Europe apart, as it had done twenty years ago, and she wanted to go over and beat them with her fists.

When the soldiers appeared again, they were still doing up the buttons of their flies. This was holding their attention as they made for the door.

They were only a second from leaving, when one of them dropped something. As he turned to pick it up, he caught sight of Cyrus. Shock registered on the soldier’s face and time was suspended.

‘Wer bist du?’ Who are you? His question brought the world alive again, and Flors felt it tumble around her.

Answering in German, Cyrus told him the same story he’d told the soldiers on the train, then he added, ‘We were out for a walk and came in here to rest.’

‘Nein! Sie verstecken sich!’

With this, the soldier pulled out his gun and pointed it at Cyrus. His fellow soldier ran outside, shouting.

Ella whimpered. She’d dropped her hand from Lonia’s mouth and was now holding the crying child to her.

In French, Flors asked, ‘What did he say, Cyrus?’

‘He said he thinks we are hiding.’

‘Halt die schnauze!’

Flors’s heart, already heavy, beat strongly against the side of her chest. These words she did understand – the soldier had told them not to talk. But if she had felt terror before, it was nothing compared to what she felt as Cyrus suddenly lurched at the soldier. A gunshot rang out, deafening her and making Ella scream out, ‘No . . . No!’

Cyrus stood over the soldier’s slumped body. Without stopping to explain, he bent and grabbed the man’s rifle. His own gun came flying through the air towards Flors. ‘Quick, Flors – the window. Shoot any approaching soldier!’

Not knowing whether or not she could do this, she stood up slowly.

‘Please, Flors, we cannot let them take Ella and Lonia.’

The sudden realization of their plight – and especially that of Ella – urged Flors’s body forward.