Max and Leo are with me. Their bodies on either side of me keep me warm. Our friendship wraps me in a bubble of happiness.

‘Elsa!’

At the sound of my name, Max and Leo are suddenly moving away.

No! Don’t go. Stay close to me. Keep me warm. Don’t leave me!

Someone is shaking me. ‘Elsa!’ The voice is insistent. ‘Elsa, wake up!’

And then I realize. I’ve been dreaming.

The disappointment is so crushing it feels like an actual weight on my body. Max and Leo aren’t here at all. They haven’t been here for longer than I can remember. Their existence itself feels like a dream. I don’t want to open my eyes.

‘Elsa, you have to get up. They’ll be here for roll call soon.’

Eventually, I force myself to open my eyes. Mutti’s face is inches away from mine. ‘Elsa, please.’ Her voice is feverish. ‘There is another transport today. In the night, three women in our block received a summons. We can’t give them any reason to add us to the list.’

‘Mutti, I’m sorry. I’m up, I promise.’

I pull the thin rag that passes for a blanket off my body and swing my legs round to get off the bunk. I barely notice the aches and pains that come from a night of sleeping on such an uncomfortable bed. After nearly a year at Theresienstadt, I am used to the aches and mostly they are the least of my troubles.

I have no memories of a time before this – in my waking hours, anyway.

I don’t remember nights before these ones, during which Mutti and I share a bunk bed so narrow that if one of us wants to turn over in the night the other must mirror their movements or risk falling on to the floor.

I don’t remember ever having anything over my body at night other than a blanket that’s so dirty I have no idea what colour it was before this murky grey, and so torn that the holes take up more space than the material itself.

I don’t remember a time when my thoughts involved more than wondering if I will find enough to eat so that my stomach won’t growl and cramp and buckle all day long.

Is it any wonder I prefer to dream?

We join the others outside in the square.

Greta finds me and she and her mother stand with us.

‘Okay?’ Greta asks, stroking my hair like she always does.

I smile softly at her. ‘Okay,’ I reply and reach out to squeeze her hand. ‘You?’

‘Better now,’ she says, squeezing my hand back.