On that spring day in 1938, after the conversation about the Anschluss, Irena had followed me into my family’s living room, where my racing heart was already slowing as I plotted my opening strategy. “One day, when you’re older, you’ll understand there are more important things to worry about than that damn game,” she said, leaving me no time to reply before returning to her place at the dining table.

Perhaps she mistook my focus on chess for indifference toward the risk her father and so many others would undertake should war come to Poland; still, I bristled at the way she had spat when you’re older, as though youth were synonymous with ignorance. As for the so-called game, she had refused the few times I had offered to teach her how to play, yet I was the ignorant one?

But the same condescending glower she’d given me that day returned now.

“Maria is the new recruit?” Irena looked at her mother as if she’d been betrayed. “Mama, you said I’d be teaching a new member, not becoming a nanny.”

I sipped my ersatz tea, but it was as bitter as the retort that rose in my throat. Keeping the words within the confines of my mind wasn’t as satisfying, but I refused to wither beneath her scowl. “I’ll learn quickly,” I replied instead.

“Allow me to give you your first lesson.” Irena sat on the coffee table in front of me and clapped both hands onto my knees. I recoiled, before making a conscious effort not to give her the satisfaction. She leaned closer until I could see a tiny gold crucifix around her neck and count each delicate link in its chain. “There’s a special place in hell for resistance members who get caught. It’s called Pawiak Prison. And if all secret policemen were devils, the Gestapo would be Satan himself. Those bastards won’t take pity on you because you’re young, and by the time they’re finished with you, you’ll be begging them to put a bullet in your skull—”

“Enough.” Mrs. Sienkiewicz’s cheeks looked as if they’d been painted with an entire pot of rouge. Before she could say more, Irena stood and marched into the kitchen.

A sudden chill swept over me after Irena’s successful efforts to terrify me, and I resented her even more for it. I was well aware of the dangers I’d face. No need for the reminder.

Mrs. Sienkiewicz sighed. “Please forgive Irena’s behavior, and her swearing. I’ve tried everything to make her stop, but since we joined this cause after her father . . .” Her voice faded, then she cleared her throat. “Maria, if Irena is inappropriate while you’re working together, let me know and I’ll talk to her.”

Did she think I was stupid enough to tattle? I valued my life, thank you. “I’ll keep that in mind,” I said aloud.

“And don’t worry, dear, she’ll come around.” The uncertainty in her tone didn’t instill much confidence.