The Price of Prejudice
======================


Life was so different for Tanneka now since her parents 
had left her that tearful day, leaving her in the care of the 
Van Vliet family and their children. Not that she didn't 
appreciate her new guardians, and she knew that in the 
circumstances it was so much better this way. Perhaps one 
day in the future she would be reunited with her parents, 
but for now it seemed so much more prudent to live with 
Herr and Frau Van Vliet and their infant children in this 
nondescript small town far away from the cities and the 
risk of British aeroplanes and their bombs. 

Still, her school wasn't a bad one, although the disruption 
caused by German occupation rather changed the 
atmosphere. The teachers were generally circumspect in 
their opinions and always avoided any questions about the 
war or the Germans or even the Nazi ideology they were 
obliged to impart on their pupils. Well, most of them were. 
Clearly, some teachers actually embraced the new way of 
thinking; quite happy to relate just how evil was the Jewish 
Conspiracy and how necessary the strict discipline and 
guidance imposed by the jackboots and tanks of Nazi 
Germany.

This rather disturbed Tanneka. The stories of how evil and 
vile the Jews were and how the world would be so 
different without them seemed somewhat fantastical and 
totally unlike anything in her experience. But anti-Semitism 
was just one new feature of her life she found difficult to 
get used to. The inexorable march of Nazi ideology, the 
curse of disability and sexual perversion, and the greater 
virtues of the Aryan race: all these new ways of thinking 
had to be understood and, at least outwardly, observed. It 
frightened her how several of her fellow pupils took to this 
new order with such enthusiasm. So many had enrolled in 
the Hitler youth and were proud to sport swastika 
armbands and military style uniforms. She would sit 
silently in the classroom as day after day she was reminded 
of the tenets of the new masters' views. Frightened to ever 
express an opinion that might earn her the disapprobation 
of her peers and her teachers. Or even worse.

School, in addition, had for her all the trials of any school. 
Getting to know new friends, getting to find her way about 
unfamiliar streets and corridors, suffering the self-
discovery and self-consciousness of growing up that 
anyone anywhere would have to go through. At least, many 
of the other girls were just as new to the school as she was. 
The upheaval of war had caused so much dislocation that it 
seemed natural to her that almost every week a new girl 
would be introduced to the school and welcomed as 
another casualty of the realities of armed occupation in the 
seemingly unstoppable growth of the German lebensraum. 
She would gaze at the newly reissued map on the wall that 
showed the extent of the Third Reich - so deep into the 
depths of what used to be the Soviet Union, taking in 
Scandinavia, Greece, France and the Balkans. And to the 
top of the map was the British foe, whose tyrannical 
leaders would drop their bombs on innocent civilians and 
seek to thwart the onward march of History. And to the 
corner of the map was the malevolent gaze of Stalin, whom 
Tanneka could remember was once uneasily viewed as an 
ally of the New Order in its struggle for world domination.

Erika was another girl quite new to the school, but one who 
was already very much as one with the new ideology. With 
her blonde hair, tied back in plaits like Tanneka's own 
thick dark brown hair, and her sparklingly limpid blue eyes 
so unlike Tanneka's dark brooding ones, she was clearly of 
the Aryan model. One so unlike any of the leaders of the 
Third Reich whose pictures she saw when she went to the 
cinema with her guardians and their children. She was not 
as slim as Tanneka, but she was certainly not plump. Her 
round cheeks belied a healthy appetite. And her full young 
breasts pressed against the dark brown of her shirt, 
supported, as they had to be, by a bra that gave her an older 
appearance than the youth of her face might otherwise 
suggest.

Tanneka was fascinated by Erika. She was not the brightest 
girl in the class: that honour was Tanneka's own. But she 
was very popular, both with the other girls and with the 
teachers. But, in Tanneka's eyes, her worst fault, and why 
Tanneka did not feel very comfortable in Erika's presence, 
was her enthusiasm for National Socialism. She was fond 
of making cruel jokes about gypsies, Jews and the mentally 
ill. She even extended her jokes to Asians, Africans and 
Chinese; although solicitous to exclude Italians and 
Japanese from her scorn who, although not Aryan, were 
from similarly proud, superior races and showing their 
worth as Allies in the great war. She was proud to wear her 
swastika on her sleeve, and unsympathetic to those who 
showed more reluctance than her to embrace the opinions 
of the great Adolf Hitler.

Erika's biggest regret, as she confided to Tanneka, was that 
she couldn't understand German well enough to fully 
comprehend the broadcasts of the Fhrer on the radio. She 
rather envied Tanneka's rather better grasp of the natural 
language of the Third Reich, and befriended Tanneka in 
the hope that she might pass this facility onto her. Tanneka 
was rather less keen on Hitler's diatribes, or even those of 
his lieutenants like G”ring or Himmler. Her knowledge of 
German, though far from fluent, was quite sufficient for 
her to understand exactly what was being said, and it was, 
to her, even more frightening than what she would hear at 
school. These were the people who were running her 
country and ultimately her life. And they were so full of 
hatred and vitriol and disgust. It made her almost ill to 
think about it.

But, despite Erika's jibes about her lack of enthusiasm for 
National Socialism, Tanneka found herself becoming very 
fond of the girl. She was so very pretty. And she had such a 
sweet smile. And a twinkling laugh, which contrasted 
strangely with the coarseness of her observations. Her 
bright blue eyes. The smooth pale skin. That loose lock of 
blonde hair that detached itself from her plaits and fell onto 
her round cheeks. And, Tanneka was disturbed to realise, 
she loved the look of those firm breasts pressing against 
the buttons of her blouse, those slim ankles at the end of 
her shapely long legs, with such a fine fair down of hair 
that it would be almost a shame to shave it off. She became 
used to a curious shortness of breath whenever Erika came 
into the room, before she'd even greeted her. And she 
found her eyes would constantly wander towards Erika's, 
hypnotised by the pale blue gaze framed by such long and 
luscious eyelashes. 

And, what was worse, she noticed that her strong feelings 
were shared by Erika. Despite her lack of zeal for the Nazi 
Party, her reluctance to join the Hitler Youth, or her refusal 
to join whole-heartedly in Erika's condemnation of non-
Aryans, she could see that Erika was taking quite a strong 
interest in her. Indeed, she was sure of it. Erika's voice was 
always lower, more intimate, more polite, when with 
Tanneka than she was with her other friends. She smiled so 
readily, so beautifully, sparks of affection from her eyes 
illuminating her cheeks and her brilliantly white teeth. The 
very personification of the Aryan ideal. Tanneka was 
smitten. And she could see that Erika was also smitten by 
her. What did this mean? And what did this forebode?

  The curfew that gripped all the territories of the Third 
Reich meant that the only way Tanneka and Erika could 
spend the evening assisting each other with their 
homework was to spend the night at one or the other girl's 
house. Frau Van Vliet was not at all happy with the idea of 
Erika staying overnight at their home. Her views of the 
traitors who invaded her country without even the courtesy 
of declaring war made it almost impossible for her to 
countenance the presence of someone who had taken the 
monstrous step too far of becoming a Hitler Youth. In fact, 
neither of her guardians were at all happy that she should 
have a friend who wore a swastika on her sleeve. Herr Van 
Vliet was no less pleased than his wife, but he took a 
practical attitude. He reasoned that young girls didn't really 
know the full meaning of what they were doing, and would 
hopefully grow out of the monstrous perversions of the 
Nazi fantasy. As he assured his wife grimly, there was no 
sense in making things worse and arousing suspicions of 
nonconformity by appearing uncooperative in such a small 
thing as letting young Tanneka spend the evening with her 
friend.

When Tanneka arrived with her satchel and books at 
Erika's home, she was first of all impressed by just how 
grand a property it was. Erika's father had done well out of 
his own sympathies for the Nazi cause. She was also quite 
grateful that she didn't have to spend any time with Erika's 
parents who were at a function in another town and 
wouldn't be expected back until the following day. 
Tanneka was led up the stairs to Erika's bedroom by her 
maidservant, Theresa, who as soon as the girls were 
together, scurried out of the house to get home before the 
curfew began.

Erika's bedroom was huge. There was a large double bed, a 
view out onto the dark unlit streets below and a desk where 
Erika sat in just a night-dress, her hair unplaited and 
cascading freely onto her shoulders. She turned her head as 
Tanneka was ushered in, a pencil in one hand with its tip in 
her mouth. She withdrew the pencil as the maidservant 
shut the door behind her and smiled deeply and warmly.

"I'm so glad you could make it," she announced. "I'm sorry 
that the room is such a mess, but tidiness isn't amongst my 
virtues."

Tanneka was hardly aware of any mess at all. Indeed, it 
would be quite difficult for any mess to be noticeable at all 
in such a large room. She was far more aware of Erika's 
relative state of undress. Not that Erika's dress was in any 
way immodest. It covered her arms, was tight to the waist 
and came down to her bare feet. And it was not of flimsy 
material, but Tanneka could see so clearly Erika's breasts 
pressed against the fabric of the night-dress and 
unsupported by a bra. As Erika stood up to greet her, Tanneka 
could see the impression of Erika's nipples through the 
cloth, and observe the breasts swing at a slightly more 
ponderous pace than the rest of her.

"Guten abend meine freund," greeted Erika in her not 
especially good German accent. "Shall we study some 
'Deutsch' together?"

"Yes, why not?" said Tanneka, trying to wrest her gaze 
away from the impression of Erika's breasts and onto much 
more wholesome matters. She knew she was unlikely to 
improve Erika's German, nor indeed her Mathematics, 
Geography or History, but she was looking forward to 
them spending time so close together.

They sat on two hard-backed chairs by Erika's neat wooden 
desk, heads bent close to each other, the brush of night-
dress against Tanneka's bare arms in her short-sleeved 
blouse and against the knees of her dark navy-blue skirt. 
Occasionally, Tanneka caught sight of the two girls' 
reflection in the tall mirror that stood against the wall. 
There was Erika, her hair falling onto her face, 
occasionally brushing it off with a pale dimpled hand, her 
long white night-dress sparkling in the electric light like 
her equally white teeth and the white of her penetrating 
blue eyes. And there was Tanneka, with her unmanageable 
thick dark hair, tied unsatisfactorily back into plaits, her 
white blouse and the skirt that came down to her knees at 
almost the same point as her white socks reached up to 
them. Her slightly olive skin and lightly chiselled features 
were in such contrast to the soft, pale, round contours of 
Erika's face. She could also see that both of them had lively 
animated faces, as they laughed and giggled and chortled 
over aspects of German grammar that had never seemed 
quite so funny before. And Tanneka was even able to 
appreciate the explosion of Erika's coarse humour when, as 
was inevitable in an approved text book, there were 
derogatory comments in German about those from races 
inferior to the Aryan master race. 

She looked at Erika with a strong affection as her friend 
struggled to write German sentences with that voluptuous 
looping handwriting of hers, which struggled to hold its 
place between the lines above and below, and came out 
with so much labour and effort, while Erika mouthed to 
herself each vowel and consonant she was writing. Her 
blonde hair fell over her shoulder and brushed against her 
elbow as she bent over to put as much weight and effort as 
she could in this struggle for self-expression in the 
language of her German masters. 

"So many words are the same but sound different!" Erika 
exclaimed at one point. "And other words that look the 
same as in our language but mean something different as 
well."

"You mean, faux amis?" queried Tanneka.

"I'm sure you're right," said Erika, opening her German 
dictionary with a puzzled expression. "I've not heard that 
word before. How do you spell that?"

"It's French."

"Oh! Well, I can't be bothered with French words. The 
French can't even fight a good war. Why should I be 
bothered with their stupid language? They're just a bunch 
of stupid, garlic-eating, fat asses! And they smell, too!"

Tanneka didn't dare ask on what concrete evidence Erika 
based her comments. As far as she could see, Erika had 
hardly met anyone who was of any other nationality than 
her own, and, naturally, the Germans'. But Tanneka also 
knew these opinions were not at all unusual, and were 
certain to be magnified in the retelling. She also reflected 
that although gypsies, Jews, Slavs, Arabs, and others were 
often compared to dogs, pigs and asses, in actual fact these 
nonhuman species were treated rather better than those 
considered to be of the same species but of an inferior race. 
Where was the justice in that?

"Do you want some wine?" asked Erika, perhaps sensing 
her friend's discomfort. "My father won't notice. He's got 
absolutely loads of the stuff."

"Well, I?" began Tanneka who'd never had any alcohol 
before, but too late before Erika was off and out of the 
room, returning with two bottles of white wine and two 
glasses. 

"It's best French wine," smiled Erika, as she unscrewed a 
cork with a bottle opener. "One thing we know the French 
are good at!"

"Indeed," agreed Tanneka, happy to see a softening, 
however slight, in her friend's generally derogatory opinion 
of other races. But she wasn't sure she really enjoyed the 
sharp taste of the sweet liquid as she sipped at it. Almost 
immediately, it made her feel ever so slightly peculiar. It 
was very much like the feeling she associated with getting 
giddy after spinning around. But it was a taste that she 
gradually came to enjoy more with each sip, although she'd 
have been more than happy with a cup of tea or strong 
coffee. 

As she sipped the sharp bright liquid, she regarded Erika 
who was drinking her glass rather faster than hers and was 
all too soon onto a second glass that she poured slightly 
carelessly with a foolish grin on her face. 

"I know some French," giggled Erika proudly. "Je t'aime. 
Je t'aime."

"Yes. That's French," agreed Tanneka diplomatically, but 
feeling a sudden spurt of emotion in the pit of her stomach.

"And in German that's Ich liebe dich. Ich liebe dich. That's 
right, isn't it?"

"It is," agreed Tanneka.

"You say it. Ich liebe dich."

Tanneka breathed in deeply, not sure whether it was the 
wine or the intent of the words that made her feel so 
horribly peculiar. "Ich liebe dich."

"And I love you too!" said Erika emphatically, quite 
suddenly grasping Tanneka around the back of her head 
with the hand that wasn't clasping a wine-glass, and 
drawing her lips against her own. Tanneka was startled, but 
she was totally unable to resist the pleasure and desire that 
erupted from deep within her and vomited itself into her 
consciousness.

This kiss was so liquid, so passionate, so strong. And so 
wonderful. Both girls abandoned their glasses and pressed 
their mouths and faces and lips together. Muscular tongue 
fought against tongue, teeth clashed clumsily against teeth, 
jarring the nerves at the very roots. It was so very slurpy 
and moist and Tanneka wanted more and more. Her mouth 
grappled, her jaw ached, as she and Erika pulled 
themselves together, somehow knowing exactly where to 
put their hands. And it seemed so natural as Erika guided 
Tanneka back onto her large bed, the soft sprung mattress 
enveloping the two girls in its capacious warmth as they 
fell on to it. And then, how it happened Tanneka wasn't 
sure, she found her hands on Erika's bare flesh, the night-
dress thrown off. And Erika without clothes was even more 
beautiful than Erika dressed.

Those breasts, the object of so much unspoken silent 
desire, were as beautiful, and round, and firm as she'd 
imagined. Now freed from restraint, they seemed so natural 
swelling out from her chests, overhanging her ribs, with 
nipples firm and hard with a darker pinkish aureate ring. 
Her bare skin so pale and fleshy, but not too plump. 
Welcoming and inviting and so soft and warm. Her hands 
gripped Erika from behind, feeling the curve of her spine 
and almost not daring to, but having to, feel the larger 
curve of her buttocks, even softer and warmer and more 
welcoming than the folds of her breasts. 

And soon, with Erika's assistance, Tanneka herself was 
divested of her clothes, giggling and sighing as skirt, 
blouse, slip, shoes, socks and finally, after a moment of 
theatrical pause, her knickers were also off. And there she 
was as naked as Erika herself. All the while, as Erika 
busied herself on the buttons and straps that had secured 
Tanneka's modesty a beaming, smiling Erika displayed 
herself as a feast to Tanneka's eyes. Not just the breasts: so 
firm and welcoming. Not just the curve and line and 
firmness of flesh so much like the Aryan ideal. Not just 
that face and mouth and teeth and blue eyes that had 
already earned Tanneka's affection. But now, between the 
legs, a blonde triangle of hair, curling in amongst itself, 
and obscuring, but not hiding, a set of complex lips that hid 
the soul and virtue of a woman. Something that Tanneka 
had never expected to see except in a mirror, and now 
arched above her as Erika spreadeagled her waist and 
tossed her knickers to one side.

Tanneka, herself, was slim and dark: her breasts mere 
bumps in comparison to Erika's but with long, firm nipples 
on a much darker aureole than those others. Thighs and 
arms, slim, almost bony. But like Erika, a secret revealed, 
folded and boldly naked, hidden more successfully under 
the heavy bush of dark hair in her crotch. She smiled up at 
Erika, trembling with excitement at the moment, at the 
pleasure of being with such a beautiful lover, at the passion 
of saliva and kisses. And then a sudden gasp as Erika's 
body collapsed on her, naked bosom against naked bosom, 
mouth once again on mouth, and a new feeling as she felt 
Erika's fingers stroke the dark thick hair of her crotch: the 
mere sensation tingling the core of her being and causing 
an aching empty feeling to open inside her and forcing 
open her legs.

It was inevitable that after kissing and cuddling and 
stroking and even licking each other, that Erika's fingers 
should probe around the folds and features of Tanneka's 
vagina. And then, ooh! And again, ooh! Ooh! One of 
Erika's fingers slid so easily into the moist opening of it, 
while Erika's other hand guided one of Tanneka's hands 
and fingers towards her own crotch. 

And what a surprise that was too! It was so moist and 
sticky. Even though the hair around it was dry and straw-
like in its composition. And so warm! Where did that 
warmth come from? Was it like the warmth and moistness 
that she felt sure she was emitting below, that ached so 
hard, that pressed even harder against her stomach? She let 
a finger probe inside the lips. Such a surprising warmth. 
And with surprising contours and shapes. What was this 
hard knob to the top of the vagina? Was it like the growth 
in her own that she'd sometimes thought to be a kind of 
warty infection? But she knew her own crotch from her 
few clumsy fumblings (often with unfocussed thoughts of 
Erika uppermost in her mind) that this was the same. A 
complicated growth hidden like a secret in special secret 
folds she'd thought were only her own, and was never sure 
were like that of other people. She was pleased to realise 
that she was not the only one whose crotch was not as 
smooth and undifferentiated as the classical nude 
sculptures so beloved of the Third Reich aesthetic.

And then a fumbling, and an awkward rearrangement of 
roles, as Erika lowered herself down the line of Tanneka's 
body, while she gazed up at the cream plastered ceiling, 
surrendering herself to the sensation of Tanneka's hands 
and tongue on her breasts, her ribs, her stomach, and then, 
and then. It was a new sensation again. Even more liquid 
and potent than with mouth to mouth. Erika's tongue was 
lapping and lapping and licking at Tanneka's crotch, inside 
and outside the folds, nibbling her clitoris, now hard and 
exposed, rubbing and tweaking the raw sensuous inner lips. 
And then, from deep inside her, with no thought, no 
intention, and as shocking to herself as it was to Erika, she 
gave vent to a long low sigh and then a gasp. And then 
another gasp. Louder. Longer. More guttural. More animal. 
More passionate. And then longer again.

The passion gripped her with urgency. In the next few 
heated moments, she was conscious of little other than heat 
and trails of sweat from her stomach and streaming down 
her forehead, salting her eyes and sweet on her tongue. The 
two girls grappled and fought together, bare flesh on bare 
flesh. Tanneka's mouth on Erika's crotch, licking and 
tasting and enjoying the strong smells intoxicating her, 
driving her mad with passion and ecstasy. And all the 
while, she would hear herself moaning and yelling, as 
distant from her consciousness as those yells and moans 
that Erika was also releasing. And all the while it seemed 
natural. So natural. So obviously the right thing. To wrestle 
and grapple and lick. To have strands of pubic hair caught 
between the teeth. To have sticky sweaty slippery skin 
sliding against each other. To have cascades of juice from 
inside burst with flavour and viscosity into the mouth. To 
be reduced to animal grunts and gasps and the occasional 
full throaty cry.

And then to collapse. Two girls together. Head on 
shoulder. Arm around each other. Panting and gasping. 
Sweat and vaginal fluids caking in the dusty gloom of the 
electric light. And to sip again from the glasses of sweet 
white wine that Erika had poured out. Their faces shone 
with the gleam of passion and satisfaction. Heat radiating 
from each other, so hot that it almost burned. And to 
exchange sips of wine with kisses to the lips with nibbles 
around the ears. And all the while hands clasped so tightly 
together, as if ensuring that this perfect moment should 
never end. To hope that it could never end. It was so 
perfect. So right. So natural. How could it ever end?

Tanneka recollected the last occasion she had any intimacy 
with someone else, though necessarily of a much more 
innocent kind, was when she last saw her mother. She 
recalled her mother's abject sadness, aware more than 
Tanneka was dimly able, that this could be their last ever 
hug and their last ever kiss. Tanneka squeezed Erika closer 
to her and rested her head on her shoulder.

Erika felt the tears drip over Tanneka's cheeks and onto the 
bare flesh of her upper arm. "What's wrong, my dear?" she 
asked tenderly.

"I was just thinking of my mother."

"Frau Van Vliet? She seems fine. What's wrong with her?"

"No, not her. My real mother. I was thinking of the last 
time we met. When she and my father had to leave the 
country. Because of the Germans."

"Why did they have to leave?"

"Because they're Jews," replied Tanneka before she could 
guard her tongue.

Erika squeezed Tanneka's hand tight and looked close into 
her eyes. She ran a free hand up and down the long 
contours of her naked body. "So that means you're 
Jewish?"

Tanneka frowned. Bizarrely enough, this quite obvious 
connection hadn't really occurred to her before. "I suppose 
it does."

Erika was quite silent, but she gripped Tanneka's hand 
even more tightly than before. She took a sip from her 
wine, while Tanneka lay slumped on her, head against 
shoulder and arm sprawled over her stomach. She took a 
longer sip while admiring the portrait of Adolf Hitler 
framed in a high position just above her desk. His stern, 
unamused face glared accusingly down on her.

"I suppose you may never see your parents again?" mused 
Erika.

"Oh! Don't say that! I hope I do. I hope I can see them 
again."

Erika sighed. "There's another game we can play," she said 
swallowing the whole of her glass of wine in one gulp. "It's 
different from the ones we've played already, but I'm told it 
can be fun."

She detached herself from Tanneka and walked over to her 
desk, where she poured herself another glass of wine and 
drank almost all of it in one long gulp, her throat jogging as 
it sank down.

"What game is that?" asked Tanneka, who had rather 
enjoyed the last one.

"Come into the bathroom with me," Erika commanded.

This game, Tanneka found, was really not as pleasant as 
their earlier lovemaking. Erika bade her lie down in the 
hard enamelled bath. It was a particularly large bath, 
supported on four cast-iron legs and quite big enough for 
the two of them. Tanneka half-expected Erika to turn on 
the taps so that the two girls could bathe together. After all, 
both of them were smelling quite strongly of the odour of 
sex. She watched as Erika got into the bath and stood right 
above her, one leg on either side of her, the feet between 
Tanneka's arms and her sides. Tanneka looked up to gaze 
at the gash of Erika's vagina, where so recently she had 
been licking and fingering with such pleasure.

And then. Oooh! Tanneka didn't expect that! Erika let 
loose a stream of urine facilitated by the alcohol and it 
spurted straight into Tanneka's face and her hair. Uuggh! 
That was not nice at all! And it didn't stop with one stream. 
Tanneka looked up in alarm as Erika emitted a longer, 
fuller, more ferocious stream of urine that went straight 
into her eyes, into her nose and some of it into her mouth. 
It tasted very strange. Very sour. Quite unpleasant. She 
coughed and splattered while Erika continued to let loose 
more and more of the liquid, getting gradually less urgent 
as her bladder emptied. This was one game that Tanneka 
hoped she wouldn't have to play again!

After this ordeal, the two girls had baths. But not together. 
Tanneka had hers in the bath immediately after Erika 
deemed herself satisfied. Erika waited until Tanneka was 
thoroughly clean and the polluted water had wholly 
disappeared down the plug hole before running a bath for 
herself. She sipped wine in the bath while Tanneka 
scrubbed her back from above. All the while, Erika was 
relatively quiet. Somehow, she was happier to express 
herself by touch and kiss rather than verbally. Although 
Tanneka was sure this was not how it should be. She 
herself was bursting with things to say, but Erika just did 
not seem so receptive now.

The two girls slept together, naked flesh against naked 
flesh. Occasionally, they would exchange kisses and hugs, 
but the passion of earlier in the evening just didn't happen 
again. Tanneka reflected that perhaps this was because of 
the enormity of the discovery of their love for each other. 
After all, it certainly gave her a great deal to think about.

However, as Tanneka was to find out the following 
evening, it wasn't Erika's love for Tanneka that had 
silenced her. The curfew had long since begun and 
Tanneka was ready to go to bed in her night-dress while 
Frau and Herr Van Vliet were settling down in front of the 
radio to tune into the BBC. She had been feeling 
disorientated all day and was looking forward to an early 
night in which she could adjust her thoughts and reflect on 
her new status as someone who had made love to her 
schoolfriend. Not that she'd ever tell anyone, of course.

It was then, as she prepared herself for bed, that the 
German soldiers arrived, bashing on the door and shouting 
"Juden! Juden!" Within minutes, her life and those of the 
Van Vliet family were to be forever changed. She was 
singled out for especial attention as the German soldiers 
punched and kicked her until she vomited blood out of her 
mouth. The rest of the Van Vliet family were also slapped 
about, but with rather less hatred than that reserved for the 
Judenfrau. 

The last glimpse she had of the Van Vliet family was 
through a veil of blood and tears, before she was bundled 
on the train to a concentration camp in the Eastern 
occupied territories. She now knew Erika's priorities when 
faced with conflict between love and ideology. This was 
the price Tanneka had to pay for Erika's prejudice.