After what had been a sombre evening, I was glad to be alone in my bedroom that night. Tante Elya and Onkel Georg had sat pale-faced and quiet over dinner and we’d barely touched our food. Little had been mentioned about the registration. I understood that it was still too much of a shock to talk about just yet, but nobody really knew what to say to ease the tension in the room. Only Leo thought to play his mother’s favourite songs on the balalaika after dinner, bringing a smile to her face.

Still humming a Russian folk tune, I sat at my dressing table and stared into the mirror as I brushed my long fair hair to a gleam before bed. I didn’t want to think about the implications of Tante Elya’s letter, it was too frightening. I touched my cheek where Leo’s hand had stroked me in the kitchen, even now it tingled with the memory. There was something between us that couldn’t be denied, and yet he kept pushing me away.

In the beginning, it was Leo who made the pain of losing my family bearable. Despite the love that Tante Elya lavished upon me and the kind words from Onkel Georg, some days I still felt so alone in the world…

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