‘My father worked there.’

‘Why did you leave?’

‘My father died,’ she said. That was true.

‘Why didn’t you return to Sweden? Why come to England?’

‘My uncle took me in,’ she said. ‘I was a minor. I didn’t have much choice.’

‘And he was in England?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why?’

‘I don’t know.’ She thought fast. ‘His work, I think.’

The Jurat leaned forward and began to count on his fingers. ‘Sweden, Germany, England. Quite the cosmopolitan family, wouldn’t you say?’

She was trembling inside, nerves hot and tingling, sweat under her arms.

‘Wanderers. Like Jews,’ the Jurat said. ‘Do you have loyalties, Miss Simon?’ He stared at her, grey eyes narrowing from beneath his black eyebrows. Took a deep breath. ‘Are you Jewish?’

‘Jewish?’ Stay calm.

‘Don’t make this difficult,’ he said. ‘It won’t do you any favours.’

He looked at her and she looked back at him. Behind him, Sir Leonard nodded. She hoped her face did not betray her, that it stayed serious even though her heart played havoc within.

‘Are your parents Jewish?’

‘No,’ she said.

‘You’re quite sure?’

‘Of course.’

‘Are any of your grandparents Jewish?’

‘No,’ she said. Her voice came out loud, too loud. She could see Grandfather now, sitting with his black kippah pinned to his hair and his gnarled old-man’s hands together. Hear, O Israel.

‘You’re quite sure?’

‘Yes.’

He sniffed. ‘Simon is a Jewish name.’

‘It’s a common English name too.’

‘Your first name is Dorothea,’ he said. ‘Not Dorothy. Your second name is Susannah. That sounds a Jewish name.’

‘Swedish. English, too,’ she said. ‘French. Italian.’ She spoke too fast, nervous, smiled, with a lopsided anxious turn of her lips. ‘We Europeans have many names in common.’

The Chief Aliens Officer leaned forward and twisted a pencil on the desk, lead, lead, end, tap-tip, tap-tip. ‘Are you Christian?’

She shook her head. Perhaps she should say she was a Quaker. She knew they weren’t quite Christian, not enough for the likes of this Jurat. But she had lied enough as it was.

‘Then what are you?’

‘I was brought up agnostic.’ Secular, but agnostic was less of a confrontation.

‘Communist?’ the Jurat said.

‘I didn’t say that.’

He thumped his fist on the desk. One side of his face twitched, lip, eye, an angry synchronised tic.

‘At least you don’t look Jewish,’ he said, staring at her hard. Dora stared back, until he averted his eyes. ‘Get out.’ He stood up, Sir Leonard behind him.

She nodded, pushed her chair back and walked out of the room, gripping the door handle hard. She couldn’t let it slip from her sweaty grasp, for that would give her nerves away.

Tante Lilli, Uncle Otto said, had seen the Gestapo at her door, knew why they’d come. One moment, please, while I fetch my coat. Went into the bedroom and threw herself off the balcony.