Vati reaches out to touch his chin. ‘I think that is exactly what it means,’ he says. ‘The world is not going to let Hitler get away with any more of this nonsense.’

‘So we keep our heads down, we do what we’re told, we don’t stand out and we wait it out,’ Mutti says.

‘Exactly,’ Vati says. ‘And before we know it, this will all be over and done with, and we can get on with our lives again. But we will never let anyone separate us. Whatever happens, we face it as a family, together. Agreed?’

The three of us respond in unison. ‘Agreed.’

As we walk home through the streets, my mind races with happy thoughts. I’m not going to be sent away. I don’t have to leave my parents. The world is going to make Hitler stop being so horrible.

Any day now I will once again be able to ride my bike, go to the swimming pool, walk in the park! I can hardly believe such things might ever be possible again.

Despite the dark, the cold, the damp streets, I walk home with a smile on my face and a skip in my step.

Everything is going to be all right. I can feel it in my bones and in my heart, and I can’t wait to tell Greta.

LEO

When we arrived at the border with Germany, the train stopped and guards came aboard. As they entered our carriage, my mouth was so dry I was finding it hard to breathe, never mind swallow or speak.

Mama handed over our passports and visa documents. The guard opened the passports on the pages with our names, photos and the big red ‘J’ that marked us out for special attention.

He nudged the guard next to him. ‘Jews,’ he said in a voice filled with so much disgust you would think he was saying ‘dog poo’. I guess to him, we were as bad as dog poo.

The other guard took the documents from his colleague and studied them for what felt like an hour before looking up at us and nudging a thumb at the door. ‘Wrong carriage,’ he said.

Mama glanced at me then back at the guard. ‘Wrong carriage?’ she repeated.

‘Get out of this carriage,’ the guard said in a cold voice.

‘But – but we have documents,’ Mama said. ‘We have tickets for these seats. We are legal.’

The guard took a step closer to Mama. So close that, when he replied, spit came out of his mouth and landed on her cheek. ‘You are Jews. Nothing about you is legal.’

I tugged at her arm. ‘Mama, let’s just do what he says,’ I whispered.