I camped in the woods with the Romany. Jeremy and I, both aged six, hollowed out child-sized tracks under the lantana to cross the merry rivers and make our way secretly into the town. But agents of the Vichy government followed us back to the woods, and the Romany were taken away by the Nazis.

I woke in tears, and ran through the Woolworths supermarket in Frenchs Forest. I found two people I used to think I was close to, leaning their heads together over a shopping trolley, having a private conversation. They both stared at me with utter loathing.

I woke in tears, remembered with relief that it was all a dream, then remembered that it was true.

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