‘Haven’t you heard?’ the man replies, holding tightly on to the hand of the smallest child, a young girl with a tiny bag on her back.

Vati turns back to Mr Janek. ‘Filip, what’s happening?’ he repeats.

‘It’s over,’ Mr Janek replies. ‘There are no more trains. The Kindertransport is finished.’

‘Finished?’ Mutti repeats. ‘Why?’

‘Because war has been declared.’

At the word ‘war’, I swear I feel the insides of my stomach roll over. I think I’m going to be sick.

‘We can no longer run the trains. It is not safe for the children. Go home, all of you,’ Mr Janek says.

‘And do what?’ Mutti asks, her voice high-pitched, almost a squeak.

Mr Janek shrugs, his arms out wide. ‘That I cannot tell you,’ he says. ‘No one knows what will happen now. But you should hurry, before the authorities come. Go home. Lie low. Wait it out. That is your only option now.’

Vati reaches out to shake Mr Janek’s hand. ‘Thank you for trying,’ he says. ‘Thank you for everything.’

‘I’m sorry I couldn’t do better,’ he replies. ‘I owe you my life. Without you fighting beside me last year, I would not be here now. I wanted to repay you. I’m sorry.’

Vati puts his arms around Mr Janek. Mr Janek reaches out to hug Vati. They stand there together for a moment before pulling away, both wiping tears from their eyes. And that – out of everything – is what breaks me. I’ve never seen Vati cry. Never. Not once. Not when we left our life in Vienna, nor when he left us to join the army.

The fact that he is crying now makes a poisonous snake of fear wriggle inside me.

Finally, Vati pats Mr Janek on the arm and turns back to us. ‘Come on,’ he says, opening his arms to gather us by his side. ‘Let’s go home.’

As we walk home in the still-dark night, Mutti tries to be cheerful. ‘Let’s look on the bright side,’ she says.

‘Bright side?’ Vati asks.

‘We’re together! We will stay together, as a family. There will be no goodbyes. My heart will not be broken today.’

Vati takes her hand and replies more gently. ‘That is the bright side.’

He stops walking and crouches to look me and Otto in the eyes. ‘Your mother is right,’ he says. ‘We are together. We wanted to send you away for safety but it didn’t happen, not tonight. So from this moment on, let’s make a promise. We face everything as a family. We are one unit. Your mother and I will be honest with you, we will involve you in all the decisions that affect you. Our country is at war now, and that will change everything.’

‘Perhaps it means that one day, the Jews will be able to do things like other people can again,’ Otto says.