Possibly the Cerels’ biggest fear is that the Black Marks will take away the younger men, like Jorzy and others his age: sons, who have seen their fathers taken away at the beginning. It’s something people try not to dwell on, but the fear is always there.

“Eh?” Nanna asks out loud, though she’s really talking to herself. “They won’t do it. They wouldn’t dare …”

I can’t answer – they can do what they like, because they do. They could take the young men away, if they wanted, and put women in the factories. Without men, the Director must obviously be reasoning, there will be no uprisings. Without men, there’ll be no more Cerel brats.

Nanna sighs and turns away from the pot, wiping her hands on her old stained apron.

I shift the piece of brown paper to get a better angle on my drawing. It’s a picture of an airship, of course, and I hope it will cheer up Papa. It’s heading towards a mountain of little houses and a shining sun to sort of show that there are better places in the world to live. The drawing will go in with the letter Nanna is writing this week. None of us know if Papa ever sees the letters, but if there is even a faint chance then it’s worth doing.

“I don’t know why they don’t just exterminate the lot of us,” Nanna says abruptly. Hands on hips, she looks furious. “Like rats. They could lay poison – poison the water. Get it over and done with. Clean out the city.” Her eyes are hard as stone.

I stare at my drawing, shocked. What’s got into her today? Maybe it’s the news about Siri’s son. His body has been found on the street, another message from the Black Marks.

“So why don’t they?” I mutter. It’s not a nice feeling to be compared to a rat.

Then I feel her hand on my shoulder.

“They need us, Leho,” Nanna says quietly. “Remember that. As long as they still need us, we are safe.”

Looking up, I notice the streaks of silver in her pinned-back hair, and I realise that Nanna probably feels as fearful as we all do. “They’ll keep needing us,” I reassure her, “’cause the Travesters don’t like getting their hands dirty.”

She gives me a crooked smile. “That’s right, Leho. Remember that.”

* * *