Marianne's friends started to treat her differently. "The security of my own small world gradually began to give way. I remember my sorrow when I was not invited to the usual round of birthday parties. I was the only Jewish girl in my form [grade level] and I found to my shame and discomfort that my former friends would no longer sit next to me... In the playground they were not allowed to talk to me or play with me. I walked around on my own." It was much the same for her parents. It had become dangerous for other town residents to be associated with Jewish people. "They were simply not allowed to [talk to us], and risked their jobs and the goodwill of the authorities if they ignored these instructions," said Marianne. "I remember one very good friend who deliberately came across the street to greet my mother and speak to her. My mother was quite shocked and afraid for her [friend's] safety." That woman's defiance was the exception. Most people seemed perfectly glad to turn their backs--or worse. "I remember one occasion, fairly early on, when there was a Sunday of harassment. Young men in brown uniforms were driven round the town in open lorries [trucks]. They stopped outside the houses where Jews were known to live and bawled obscene anti-Semitic song. I was very frightened and blocked up my ears. My mother, white as a sheet, said comfortingly, 'As long as they only sing, it will be all right.'" Marianne realized that the "innocent, calm, comfortable days were over--forever." Instead, "a worrying time started." Excerpted from We Had to Be Brave: Escaping the Nazis on the Kindertransport by Deborah Hopkinson All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.