She heard the furniture dragged back and the door opened a crack. Frau Weber peered through.

‘What are you making this racket for?’ she said. ‘What’s the matter?’

Bette began to sob. ‘It’s Mutti,’ she said. ‘Mutti.’ She could say no more.

‘A moment.’ Frau Weber yanked Bette through the half-opened door, pushed her along the hall and into her room. Greta and Waltraud were in bed and the old grandmother was on a chair, her feet propped on a stool. Frau Weber pulled off her nightdress and stood, naked, while she grabbed her frock and tugged it down over her body. Bette stared. Mutti never did that sort of thing. She opened the door a fraction, sidling out, grabbing Bette with one hand, and they ran across the courtyard, stumbling up the steps, into the apartment. Lieselotte had lit one of the candles Boris had brought and had placed it on the table next to her mother’s bed. Mutti was asleep, her breath cracked and strangled. Her lips looked blue in the flickering light.

Frau Weber went across, felt the forehead.

‘Aye, yeh,’ she said, shaking her hand. ‘How long has she been like this?’

‘We just noticed,’ Lieselotte said. ‘She seemed all right before.’

‘She wasn’t that ill,’ Bette said. ‘She just said she had a cold.’

‘Water,’ Frau Weber said. ‘And a cloth.’

Lieselotte and Bette rushed to the kitchen. Bette grabbed a towel and the bucket, as Lieselotte filled a jug and lifted down a glass from the shelf.

‘Will she be all right?’ Bette said. ‘What’s wrong with her?’

‘How do I know?’ Lieselotte snapped. They came back into the bedroom. Even though the day had been warm, the night air was cold.

‘Should we get a doctor?’ Lieselotte said.

‘It’s curfew,’ Frau Weber said. ‘You’ll get shot. Besides, what can a doctor do? We have no medicines.’

She dipped the cloth in the water, wrung it out, clamped it onto Mutti’s brow. She pulled back the bedcovers, but Mutti arched, her mouth frothing, her arms flailing. Lieselotte screamed.

‘Be quiet,’ Frau Weber said, rolling Mutti onto her side, dipping the cloth in the water again, wiping it round Mutti’s face and neck. ‘Do you have an aspirin?’

Lieselotte shook her head.

‘Fetch another cloth. Sponge her down.’ Lieselotte ran out, returned with another towel.

‘Is she going to die?’ Bette said.

Frau Weber clamped her mouth in concentration. She grabbed the towel from Lieselotte, soaked it in the water and covered Mutti’s body, dabbing as her mother grasped for air, her throat rattling and growling at the same time.

‘She has pneumonia,’ Frau Weber said. She looked up from her task, at Lieselotte, at Bette. ‘She’s very ill.’

Bette felt the tears prick her eyes, heard herself whimper. Lieselotte came over and put her arm round her, pulling her close.

‘What can we do?’ Lieselotte said.