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from view. Seeing her cycle away made me want to go out on my bike. I hadn’t been outside the house in four days, other than to help Opa with his car that was parked in the back where no one could see.
    Even after the girl was long gone and her mama had shut the door, I stared out at the street. Not much happened, though. It wasn’t like at home where it was always busy. In the city, there were cars and trams and carts to watch, and all the people going this way and that, but here it was quiet.
    I waited a whole ten minutes, counting to sixty ten times in my head, but not one car went past. Not even one . The only thing I saw was an old man strolling past with his dog.
    ‘So boring,’ I muttered and sat down on the bed again. ‘Nothing to do.’
    But seeing the girl on her bike had given me an idea.
    Downstairs, Oma was making bread and the kitchen was filled with the smell of the dough.

    ‘I’m sorry for what I said earlier,’ I told her. ‘For saying I’d—’
    ‘Never mind about that.’ Oma smiled. ‘Come and help me, it’ll be fun.’
    ‘Cooking?’ I asked. ‘Again?’
    ‘Baking this time.’ She crushed the dough so that it squeezed out between her fingers. ‘It’s a good thing to learn.’
    ‘It’s for girls,’ I told her, as if she didn’t know anything at all. ‘Boys don’t cook.’
    ‘Is that right? Boys don’t cook? So that’s what they’re teaching you at school these days, is it?’ She stopped kneading and looked at me. ‘Tell me, then, what do boys do?’
    ‘At school? Well, there’s mathematics and science and how to fight our enemies.’
    ‘I see.’ Oma raised her eyebrows.
    ‘And we learn about making weapons, about trajectory, and about racial theory. And there’s running and boxing to make us strong.’
    ‘Don’t you think Opa is strong?’ she asked.
    ‘Yes, but—’
    ‘He sometimes helps me with the cooking. Does that make him weak?’
    ‘It’s different. The youth is the future, that’s why we have to be stronger. We have to be swift as a greyhound, as tough as leather, and as hard as Krupp’s steel .’
    Oma turned away and sprinkled more flour on the table. ‘Those are the Führer’s words,’ she said.
    ‘Yes.’

    Oma lifted the dough to shoulder height and slapped it down on the table, sending a puff of flour into the air. ‘And the girls learn to cook?’ She frowned and seemed to be kneading the dough harder than before.
    ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘And how to look after our families, of course.’
    ‘I see.’ Oma stopped and looked me up and down. Her face softened into a sad smile and she came closer, wiping her hands on her apron before touching my cheek. ‘You know, Karl,’ she said, ‘you don’t have to wear that uniform all the time.’
    ‘I like it.’
    ‘Well, it’ll have to be washed some time, you know. You’ll have to take it off for that.’
    ‘It can be washed and dried overnight,’ I told her.
    ‘Can it indeed?’ she said, raising her eyebrows. ‘Now, if you don’t want to help me , why don’t you go and see if Opa needs some help? He’s in the back with his car. Maybe you can do something to take your mind off all this exercise and war.’
    ‘But I don’t want to take my mind off it. I want to exercise. I have to be strong and fit and ready,’ I said. ‘The Führer might need me.’
    ‘To go to war?’ she asked. ‘Is that what you really want?’
    ‘It’s what every boy in my class wants. The teacher promised us we would get our chance.’
    Oma watched me with glistening eyes. ‘Even you? Even though you might be killed like …?’ Her words trailed into nothing and she put a hand to her mouth. ‘Oh Karl,’she said as she turned to face the window.
    ‘What is it?’ I asked, taking a step towards her. ‘What’s the matter?’
    ‘I’m fine.’ Oma held up a hand as if to wave me away. ‘Fine. Why don’t you go and find Opa?’ Her voice was tight in her throat and I stood for a moment, looking at her