‘Did you see our star?’ Mama Weichmann asked. Miriam nodded, closing her eyes. It had been a shock to see the yellow paint daubed on the front door of the flat. The Star of David. ‘It was a neighbour from downstairs,’ the old lady said. ‘He’s some sort of official with the NSDAP.’ ‘Is he allowed to do that?’ ‘He said it was his civic duty.’
