Rabbi Gardiner was talking, motioning for Laura to approach him on the podium of the synagogue. Laura exhaled slowly, picked up Sara’s diary, gathered her notes, and made her way up the steps to stand next to the rabbi. Her stomach lurched and fluttered and she took a moment to calm the beating of her heart. But when she turned to face the large audience of people who had gathered for the service to celebrate her Bat Mitzvah, all she saw was a sea of smiling, caring faces. She was instantly at ease.

In the front row, Laura’s mother dabbed at the corner of her eyes with a tissue. Laura hadn’t even begun to talk and already her mom was crying! That was no surprise. Her dad looked proud enough to burst. He beamed and winked, flashing a nervous smile in Laura’s direction. Her dad had been up that morning at the crack of dawn, scrambling around the house, racing from room to room, doing nothing except making everyone else nervous. It was Laura who had finally told him to stop pacing and go and have breakfast; they would manage fine. When had she become so poised and confident? Emma smiled and smoothed out the pretty flowered dress she had personally chosen for this day. If you asked Emma, she believed this was her celebration, not Laura’s. It was just like Emma to think she was the centre of attention. But today, Laura didn’t mind.

Laura took another minute to scan the audience: aunts, uncles, cousins, school and family friends. She was looking for Adam and Nix, and there they both were, sitting close to the front, each grinning from ear to ear. Adam wore a blue suit – probably the only one he owned. He looked pretty good, Laura had to admit, not the least bit as goofy as he usually looked, despite the trademark John Lennon tie Laura knew he had added just for her. She would make sure to grab a few dances with Adam at her party later that evening. He was going to love the music she had chosen for the dance. Nix waved discreetly, a show of encouragement, and Laura flashed a big smile in return. This was her moment and she wanted to take it all in.

A sudden movement at the side of the hall distracted Laura momentarily. As she turned her head, she saw Mrs Mandelcorn making her way down the aisle of the synagogue, murmuring apologies to the congregants as she tried to find a seat. A slightly younger woman accompanied her. That must be her sister, thought Laura, noting the similarity in their faces. Late, as usual. But this time she didn’t mind. Both women settled in their seats and looked up at Laura. She was pleased to see that Mrs Mandelcorn had made it.

Laura was ready now. Clearly and confidently, she began to sing the Hebrew prayers that she had been practising for months. Her voice was strong and had a sweet melodic quality that was pleasant to the ear. Using the silver pointer that the rabbi had handed her, she reached out to touch the Torah, the scroll of Hebrew scriptures that was rolled open to the section that was being read that day; she was suddenly stirred by the importance of what she was doing – this traditional ceremony of affirming her adulthood. Beside her, the rabbi squeezed her arm. She was doing well, and he was acknowledging her hard work. The service moved quickly from prayer to prayer and, finally, it was time for Laura’s speech.

Opening her notebook, Laura once again gazed out at the smiling faces. She didn’t remember what time it had been when she had finally finished reading Sara’s stories a few nights before. Even though there were still unanswered questions, Laura had at last figured out what she was going to say in her speech. And when she had begun to write, the words flowed easily and she had finished quickly.

‘I’m going to tell you about a young girl who lived during the time of World War II and the Holocaust,’ Laura began. ‘Her name is Sara Gittler.’

With that introduction, Laura began to talk about Sara’s life. She described Sara’s family, her siblings, parents and grandparents. She talked about the things Sara did before the war and then described how the Warsaw Ghetto had been built, enclosing Sara and thousands of other Jewish people behind prison walls.

‘When Sara went into the ghetto, she had to leave behind most of the things she owned, everything that was important to her – her books, toys, pets and many friends. She left behind her freedom and she entered a prison where she and her family had to live in a tiny one-bedroom apartment. She struggled every day; she had very little to eat, and almost nothing to do.’

Laura opened the diary that Mrs Mandelcorn had given her and read a section for the audience, speaking Sara’s words aloud and giving them a voice in her service.

I dream of walking down a busy street and stopping in a café for ice-cream and cake. I dream of going to a real school and sitting at the front of the classroom where I can listen to every word the teacher says. I dream of buying a new dress, or maybe ten of them. Most of all, I dream of being a famous writer and having everyone read my stories and remember my name.

‘Those were Sara’s dreams,’ Laura said, looking up at the congregation. ‘But I don’t think she ever had the opportunity to make them happen. She and her family were deported to the Treblinka concentration camp. She left her writing behind, buried in the courtyard of her apartment building.

‘When Sara wrote these words, she was thirteen and a half years old, just a little bit older than me,’ Laura said. ‘She had dark hair and brown eyes and freckles across the bridge of her nose, like I do. We both loved books and cared about our friends. Sara had a younger sister like I do. She once went to school, played sports and listened to music. She even shopped for clothes and worried about whether or not she was popular. We were the same in so many ways. But when Sara thought about her future, she probably wasn’t worrying about where her next family holiday was going to be, or which university she would one day attend. Sara worried about whether or not she would be alive. And when she wanted the world to notice her, it was not because she was stuck-up, but because she felt abandoned, just like millions of other Jewish people at that time.’

Laura paused and looked around. The audience was sitting in silence. Laura’s mother wiped at her eyes again and reached for her husband’s hand. Even Emma, usually restless and squirming, was still, listening carefully. Laura made a mental promise to talk more to Emma about Sara’s life – to explain as much as she could to her little sister.

Searching the faces, Laura’s gaze fell upon Mrs Mandelcorn. At once, she was startled to see that Mrs Mandelcorn had lowered her head and was sobbing noticeably, holding a white handkerchief to her face. Her sister’s arm was around her shoulder. The two women sat close, heads touching. Laura was momentarily distracted and distraught. She wondered if she had offended Mrs Mandelcorn in some way. But it was Mrs Mandelcorn, after all, who had entrusted Laura with Sara’s diary in the first place. Perhaps Laura should have conferred with the elderly woman about the speech she had planned to give. She had never meant to upset her in this way. But in the next moment, Mrs Mandelcorn glanced up and gave a slight nod of her head. Laura knew that she was doing the right thing; Mrs Mandelcorn was encouraging her to continue.

‘I want to tell you about something that happened at my school a couple of weeks ago.’ It was then that Laura began to talk about the incident in the cemetery and how it had affected her at a time when she was reading Sara’s stories. ‘It’s easy for any one of us to sit back when bullying or vandalism takes place. We turn away and pretend it has nothing to do with us. We can even be frightened into doing and saying nothing when our community or our friends are threatened. During World War II, there were not enough people in the world who were willing to stand up for Sara and so many others. But reading Sara’s diary makes me understand that we all have a responsibility to speak up, even when it is scary.’ At that, Laura looked up again and met Nix’s eyes. Nix gave Laura a quick thumbs-up and a reassuring nod before Laura continued.

‘There are so many things I have learnt from this incident in our community, and from Sara’s stories. I have learnt never to take my life and my freedoms for granted. I have learnt that standing up for what is right is the most important thing you can do. I have learnt about the importance of real friendship.

‘We all know the terrible statistics; one and a half million Jewish children did not survive the Holocaust. Those were one and a half million individual lives. Each one was important, just like Sara’s.

‘Over the last few weeks, I have struggled with how to honour Sara through my Bat Mitzvah and I take this opportunity now to bring together the past and the present. My Bat Mitzvah day will forever be Sara Gittler’s Bat Mitzvah day. Sara asked us to remember her, and by saying her name out loud here in this synagogue today, that is exactly what I am doing.’