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and I traipse through in the black of night. Aman lies sleeping in the

street, face down in a dark ring of wet. God forgive them for their



whispers. We stop outside a grey building I recognise as

the one


works in. Wait here,


says. Quiet. She disappears

inside and them re-emerges a few minutes later,


behind her.


kisses her on both cheeks and hands her a bag. We continue

down the street, more sleeping bodies on either side of us. There is

a light on in Jacob’s window. Inside it is warm but his eyes are cold.

Mrs Rosenheim pulls on a second coat and heads out into the

falling snow. I can hear a low humming, and then a kind of guttural

spurt, mechanic. The cat meows and spreads out by the fire, though

the flames are starting to sputter and die. I retrieve more wood and

add it to the blackening pile. The dog continues to bark.

Guten tag

, a

man’s voice calls. I peer outside the window. A car has pulled up

beside the cottage and a man steps down to hand something to Mrs

Rosenheim. His face is grim and he does not say anything else. Mrs

Rosenheim waits until the car has disappeared around the bend

before she comes back inside. It is for you, she says, as she passes me

the letter. Her hands are lined with age.



says. Quietly. I carry a bag of my belongings, leather

handles flaking in my sweaty palms. Jacob leads the way to the

railway tracks, slinking down back alleys and avoiding low lit

streetlamps. Be quick. Be quiet. The tracks are slick with ice and

Jacob holds my hand as we cross and wait on the other side. His

palms are warm but when a train pulls up in the darkness he has to

let go. Steady now. He lifts me up into a wide crate of dust and animal

smells. A man I do not know is there to help me to my feet once I’m

inside. He does not smile but nods at Jacob. You’ll be safe with the



says, fingers clutching atmine. I do not understand.

I want to be safe with you.


face is wet with tears and snow.

The letter is bulky in my hands and when I shake it there is a

slunk sound. The paper is soggy and poorly sealed. Slowly I prise it



badge is shiny against his coat as


straightens his

collar. Tonight, we will celebrate.


face is bright with hope.

I run my fingers over the dented metal. Dark red splotches half

cover the symbol.

Seig heil!

Beneath the badge is


finest hair pin

of jade and silver, wrapped in a yellow cloth. I do not understand. I

pull the pin away. The cloth is cut into the Star of David. A word is

printed in the centre, black ink smudged at the edges.


. Mrs

Seig Heil 2