Rosa snorted, as though the idea was ridiculous. ‘I know I look doddery but I’m not daft. I’ve seen enough lives ruined by fires. There’s no such thing as one that’s safe. And if I wanted to claim on my insurance, why would I set fire to the soup shop?’

‘I think she means did we pay anyone to do it, Mum?’ Agnieszka’s words had an icy tone.

‘Did you?’ This time I faced Agnieszka.

‘Absolutely not. Unlike Mum, I don’t care about this stupid building, but I do care about my mother. Do you think I’d risk her getting hurt? Are you asking Tomasz this too? And my husband?’

‘Of course. We have to consider all possibilities.’ I paused. ‘But someone wanted to torch the place and I won’t rest until we know who that was.’ I was about to get up when I saw that Agnieszka was nudging her mum.

‘Tell her,’ Agnieszka whispered.

‘The thing is . . .’ Rosa broke off. Her voice sounded strange. Almost nervous.

‘Mum. She needs to know.’

‘The thing is, after you left the other day, I remembered something about your father.’

‘What?’

‘It was seeing them all together in that photograph,’ said Rosa. ‘Your father came to Józef’s funeral. They all did. Kazi, Ody and Cyril.’

The news hit me like a slap in the face.

‘I was worried that perhaps I’d imagined it,’ Rosa said hurriedly, as if she was scared she’d lose her nerve. ‘I know I’ve got photos somewhere, but I think they’re in the loft. The ladder’s riddled with woodworm and we daren’t go up. I’ve asked Tomasz to fix it but he’s busy and can’t do it until tomorrow, and we thought you’d want to know.’

‘Thanks. Yes.’ I was absorbing the implications of her news.

‘I’ll leave you to . . . er . . . I mean, if he was alive a year ago—’

‘Don’t say that,’ Agnieszka muttered, and mouthed ‘sorry’ at me.

‘The funeral was a bit of a blur for me, but Agnieszka says the local paper covered the event and took lots of photos. One of the last Jewish processions in the East End, or something. You’ll know the journalist. She’s probably still got the images. Who was it, Agnieszka?’

‘Suzie James.’

‘I’ll have a look,’ I said. ‘The article will probably still be online.’

Rosa was apologising and explaining and apologising some more, but her words were a blur. I wanted to be on my own. To sit down and think. I thanked them both, said goodbye as quickly as I could and told them I’d see myself out. As I clambered down the stairs, my legs felt weak and my body was shaking. This was a shock. What the hell did I do with the information? It had to mean Dad was alive, surely?