‘It’s not just any game of chess,’ Granddad says brightly like he’s trying to lift my spirits. ‘It is about perhaps the best match ever, between two of the greatest Grandmasters – Bobby Fischer and Boris Spassky. I thought it would be good for you because you learn visually.’

‘Do I?’

‘Of course, you learn from that video game you play at home.’

‘What, Fortnite?’

‘Yes, and in your tree you learn how to be prepared, get resources, head to the higher ground.’

‘I didn’t think you took any notice,’ I say, surprised.

‘I do not go round with my eyes shut, you know,’ says Granddad. ‘And neither should you. Now let’s watch the DVD.’

I unwrap the DVD and bend down in front of the TV. I insert the disc and pick up the remote. I’m not sure the film will be as interesting as Granddad says, but it’s better than watching German TV. Granddad must be thinking the same because when I turn round he’s sitting on the edge of his seat, rubbing his hands.

‘Come and sit here,’ he says, tapping the sofa seat cushion. I smile to myself. It’s like he bought the present for himself, not me, because the last time I saw him this excited and happy watching TV was the last time Germany won the World Cup. In fact it’s been ages since I saw him happy full stop.

I sit down next to him and the film starts to play. A news reporter is standing outside a library-like building, and he puts his microphone up to his mouth and says, ‘This is the World Championship and Bobby Fischer chose to stay in bed today.’

‘Ha,’ says Granddad. ‘Maybe this is not the best example of a chess player to show you after all!’

I laugh and keep watching. The film switches back to when Bobby Fischer was a young boy. He’s sitting in a room playing chess against a man. He beats the man after eleven moves and then the picture changes to Bobby Fischer walking around a smoky dark hall, playing chess with ten men, all at the same time. Each time he pauses to make a move he hits his hand down and stops a clock. As the film keeps playing the narrator says Bobby Fischer was the American chess champion at the age of fourteen and was followed around by reporters and cameras like a film star. I think that maybe being good at chess isn’t boring after all. I go to tell Granddad this, but he’s too engrossed in the film as a news reporter says something about the match being part of the Cold War between communist Russia and free America.

I lean forward.

‘What’s the Cold War, Granddad?’

Granddad keeps watching.

I tap him on the leg.

‘Granddad, what’s the Cold War? Is it a war fought in the winter?’