A couple of extracts ....

From Chapter 2

Peter had been putting away his school books and thinking of going to bed when Papa came into the dining-room. He sat at the head of the table and began to talk quietly, almost as if he were talking to himself.

"Did you notice a change in people in the last year?" he began, with an anxious look that Peter had never seen on him before.

Usually Papa was the one who said one should never worry until after something nasty has happened. Peter said:

"They're quieter. They don't stop to talk as often as they used to do. It's the war, I suppose."

"Yes. It's the war and the general hardship. People have begun to change their habits, even their good habits, and think only of their own safety. They're afraid to trust anyone. There's a different look in their eyes, like animals backed into a corner, fighting for their lives. Some look like foxes, some like wolves. It was only to be expected. People are animals, after all, though they're able to think and plan and write books."

"And play music?" Peter asked.

"Music and painting and books are the only things that lift people above the animals and make them able to feel the presence of God," Papa said. "No matter what comes next, there will always be music."

"What will come?"

"I don't know. I only know what happened in other countries. Being born a Jew became a crime, and the punishment was prison or death. Why shouldn't the same things be done here? My friends say Hungary is too civilized, too cultured, but I don't believe it. Germany was the most civilized country in the world, in its day." He stood up and walked over to the window, where a few lights showed here and there. Most of them were blacked out, because of the air raids. After a moment he went on:

"We should get out, but I think it's too late. You may be able to do it, but I doubt it. They'll block the roads. Some people may help you. You'll know who they are, just by looking at them. Even some of the people you think you can trust will let you down."

From Chapter 9:

They walked through a dozen side streets, leaving the shops behind and entering the part of the city where there were warehouses and stores of all kinds. Here it was more open, and there were no doorways to hide in. Besides, the moon had sailed out from behind the clouds and seemed to be deliberately sending a strong, clear beam along the length of the streets. Still Mrs Rossi marched along, hurrying now as if she were feeling the need to get into cover quickly. Ahead of her Suzy saw that Pall was almost running to keep up, stopping now and then to hitch up the strap of his bag on to his shoulder. No one could help him, since they were all loaded with their own burdens. Mrs Nagy was having trouble with her bundle, constantly shifting it from one shoulder to the other as if it were hurting her, but no one could help her either.

At last Mrs Rossi turned into an open gravelled yard and crossed to a van that was parked in a line with some others, their tails to the outer wall. She waited until they had all come up, then moved into the space between the vans and along the side until she came to the huge steel door at the back. She rummaged in the pocket of her coat and took out a key, with which she undid the padlock that held the door shut. With a tremendous heave she lifted the door upwards and outwards. It made a loud grinding sound that echoed through the silent night.

'This is your house, for a while,' she said, panting for breath from the strain. 'You had better climb in at once. I wish the door wouldn't make that noise.'

No one wanted to be first.