We’re walking across the square to take Granddad his tea. I’m excited to see him, but I’m also nervous in case he’s come home thin and pale like Grandma did. Mum says I’m not to be too noisy, that Granddad has had a shock, he needs to keep calm and I certainly shouldn’t get him excited by talking about chess.

Granddad’s TV is playing through the hall when we get there.

‘Hi, Dad,’ yells Mum. ‘It’s only me.’ Then she nudges me to go in and see Granddad while she takes his dinner into the kitchen.

I peer around the edge of the door. The room is dark and quiet like always and Granddad is staring ahead at the TV.

‘Hi, Granddad,’ I say.

He turns his head slowly towards me. He looks thin and his eyelids are droopy like any moment he’s going to fall asleep.

I walk slowly into the sitting room and sit beside him.

‘Granddad,’ I say quietly, ‘I thought I’d come and see you.’

Granddad smiles.

‘Yes,’ he says. ‘I’ll be fine, but where—’

‘Francke!’ Mum bombs into the room. ‘You’ve not taken your pills,’ she says, pointing at two pills in her palm.

‘But I drank the water,’ says Granddad.

‘Yes, but water alone won’t make you better.’ Mum blows out her cheeks and goes back into the kitchen.

Granddad sighs. I try to think of something to say, but all I can think about is how tired he looks and the only other thing I can think of is chess.

I look at the TV. Tomorrow it’s going to rain in Hamburg, Münster and Stuttgart, but it’s going to be sunny in Leipzig and Berlin.

‘Looks like it’s going to be nice in Berlin, Granddad,’ I say, trying to fill the silence.

‘Yes, I am thinking . . .’

‘Here.’ Mum comes back in with a glass of water and picks two pills up off the coffee table. ‘Now take these,’ she says.

Granddad sighs again.

‘I will,’ he says. ‘But the doctors said I should take them after meals.’

‘Right,’ says Mum. ‘I’ll get your dinner then.’ She rolls her eyes as she walks out into the kitchen. I hear the sound of plates knocking against a dish, then a clunk as she closes the microwave door. Granddad leans forward.

‘Felix,’ he whispers. ‘I am thanking God—’

‘Did you want to sit at the table, Dad? Or shall I bring you a tray?’ Mum shouts from the kitchen.

Granddad shakes his head and sits back in his chair. It’s usually him who’s barking orders but he’s too tired to even argue with Mum.

‘Table or tray?’ shouts Mum.