have to stretch the pastry so thin,” she said as she pulled the dough they’d made together it across the kitchen table, “that you can read a newspaper through it.” 

“I don’t think I ever want to read a newspaper,” said Renate. “Don’t they say that Jews are a disgrace and doesn’t that mean you and me?”

Clara stood up straight. “Look at me.” She placed her hands on the girl’s shoulders. Two serious brown eyes looked back at her. “Now listen to me. Two things: one – Jews are not a disgrace. I expect you know lots of them as well. Like the ones who own the bakery near to the synagogue. They’re not a disgrace are they?”

Renate shook her head.

“And secondly: you are not Jewish anyway...

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