Benjie squirmed contentedly on the rug as I tickled his tummy.
‘Don’t cry, Jacob,’ said Ada.
‘How can you stay calm? He’ll be dead tomorrow.’
‘It’s less stressful for him if he goes to the vet.’ She hugged her knees, concealing the yellow star on her blouse. ‘Otherwise, he’ll be collected with the other Jewish pets next week.’
‘He loves me. It’s not fair. What’s he done wrong?’
I’d answered my own question.
As Ada embraced me, smoke from dying Shabbat candles drifted across the room.
Later, I learned what she already knew. Aunt Esther had received her deportation notice.
