I put my hand on the radiator by the window and closed the curtains. Reminded myself, as I always had to, that it was common for dementia-sufferers to get confused, but it didn’t remove the sting of being called by my sister’s name. Perhaps, given she seemed to remember the bagel shop, it was a way in to talking about Dad? Or was that wrong? ‘I was talking to Rosa Feldman, Mum. The lady who ran the newsagent’s opposite the old bagel place. Do you remember her?’

‘The Jewish couple?’

‘That’s right.’

‘Dad was friends with her husband. Wasn’t he?’ I fished in the plastic folder for the photograph I’d printed out. ‘She showed me this photo of them.’ I placed the faded image on her lap. It was the one of Dad, Józef, and their two friends outside the barber’s.

The image drew her attention and seemed to pull her out of her haze. ‘Switch that racket off, Maya, will you?’ she snapped suddenly. ‘I can’t think with that noise.’ She examined the image pixel by pixel, much in the way that people study paintings for content, texture and tone. ‘He’s dead, isn’t he?’

My stomach lurched. But she was pointing at Józef. How did she know? ‘Yes. A year ago.’ Should I tell her the news about Dad or was it kinder to keep quiet? How I wished there were rules for what to do and say. ‘Józef’s funeral was local. They had a traditional parade in the street.’

‘Oh?’ Mum’s residential home was in Stepney so she wouldn’t have seen the procession, but she may have read about it in the local paper.

‘Rosa Feldman told me Dad was at the reception. Did you know?’

She frowned, and her eyes glazed over. ‘You told me that.’

‘Yes, just now.’ What did she mean? ‘I’ve only just found out.’ Was she getting mixed up? ‘Did someone tell you before now?’

‘I must be getting confused again. I remember Józef.’ She looked at the photograph of Dad, Józef, Ody and Cyril. ‘And the other two look familiar.’ She pointed at Ody. ‘Who’s this one? I recognise him.’ Mum began rubbing her wrist.

‘That’s Odyek Atyeno. I think they called him “Ody”. He was at the funeral too.’

‘The funeral?’

‘Yes, Rosa Feldman told me that Dad and Ody were at Józef’s funeral a year ago.’

Loss pulled at Mum’s features. She placed her index and middle fingers on the picture of Dad, and it was obvious how much she still missed him. Why hadn’t she talked to us about him more? Told us what had gone on?

‘Rosa told me that Dad was playing with her granddaughters at the funeral reception, and telling them about the canal.’