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By Ellie A

"For the last time...will you please place it on the table" her Mother said quietly. Her brothers and sisters were happily playing upstairs but as the eldest she was expected to help, so she carefully and proudly lifted the shiny silver menorah from its place on the sideboard and put it in pride of place in the centre of the table. She was a little disappointed that she couldn't join the games with her siblings but knew she had to be responsible. The room was well decorated and cosy; clean and ready for the start of the traditional Sabbath meal.

Grandfather called the other children to come to the table and Mother prepared to light the candles; their warm flickering light filled the cosy room as everyone huddled into it. They all sat at the strong, oak table, waiting patiently for the delightful food that mother was to bring in any second now. Just at that moment, Mother did bring it in. The smell was delightful, a smell of family, tradition, home, warmth and safety. She couldn't wait to eat it. The latkes, traditional potato pancakes, were carefully given out. Everyone dug in greedily, the lovely taste piled into their mouths.

"The Rosens, you know..." began her Grandmother while finishing off her latkes.

"Not now. Not in front of the children," protested her Mother, raising her eyebrows in a warning manner. "Let's enjoy the moment. We are all here together" she added.

After the main course the plates were cleared to the kitchen and left while Mother quickly brought in the colourful, cheery, bright doughnuts that she had spent the afternoon making. All the children stared at them, their mouths watering. Everyone grabbed one before they all went - even grumpy Grandmother. Biting into the sweet, wonderful dessert was like tasting a dream.

There was one left on the plate. Before anyone could grab it they heard noise and shouting in the street. With a pale face her Mother stood and quietly asked everyone to get their coats. No one spoke, they just obeyed.

The noise outside was getting louder: children crying, women screaming and strong male voices heartlessly shouting, "Alle Juden raus!".

Then it came.

The knock at their door. There was a frightened look in her Mother's eyes that no one had seen before. Her Grandmother stood there quivering and her Grandfather was biting his lip like he always did when he was nervous. Her Mother told them all to pick up the one bag they'd been told they could take and they put on their coats with the yellow star sewn on the front.

With her head held high her Mother led them outside, the whole family. Friends and neighbours were in the street; some getting into trucks already half full of people, others watching. Without speaking they slowly made their way to a truck and her mother shut the front door to their home for the last time.