One of the others makes a vulgar move with his body and replies, ‘Oh yes, she’ll be very grateful for a present like that!’

The soldier sitting on the table laughs as he reaches down to put them in his bag.

Vati is in front of him, his hands clasped together as if in a prayer. ‘I beg you,’ he says. ‘Please do not take them. They have been in my wife’s family for three generations.’

The soldier looks him in the eye and replies lightly, ‘Well, they’re not in your family any longer.’

‘Please, let us keep one thing. They are so special to us,’ Vati insists.

‘That is a good lesson to learn,’ the soldier says softly and for a moment I think he has understood how important they are and will let us keep them. Then, in a snarling voice, he adds, ‘Now you will understand that you Jews own nothing!’

He jumps down from the table and shoves the candlesticks in his bag. ‘You’ve got twenty-four hours to pack,’ he says. ‘We’ll be back to move in tomorrow.’

Tomorrow? I am to pack the contents of my life overnight? What should I take this time? The last time I packed a case, I still thought fine dresses and shiny shoes were important and had packed them carefully with my other belongings. Something tells me I will have less reason to wear jolly clothes where we’re going.

Beckoning to the others to join him, the soldier crosses the kitchen. ‘One day,’ he repeats at the door. ‘We will be back for you tomorrow.’

When the soldiers have left, I head up to my bedroom to start the process of packing up my life once again. One thought comforts me amongst the horror.

After what has just happened, this house no longer feels like home. At least it won’t be quite so hard to leave it now.

LEO

I stood in front of my mirror and practised my smile until it looked convincing. Every morning I did the same thing before leaving for school. Mama had given up so much for us to have this opportunity and the Stewarts had been so incredibly generous.

The last thing any of them needed was to know how miserable I was at school.

Mama was in the kitchen with Mrs Stewart. They were sitting together at the table with cookery books spread out in front of them. I had never known Mama to have a best friend before, but since we’d been in England she and Mrs Stewart had been inseparable. Mrs Stewart had spent hours and hours with her, teaching her English, introducing her to people, helping her adjust to our new life.