He wasn’t sure who he was expecting to answer. Would Lotti even remember him? In any case, surely she would no longer live here – she would have made her way in the world, married, had children, fulfilled at least some of her hopes and dreams? As had he. Not the children. Barbara and he had been unable to conceive. They’d just accepted it as fate.

Once again, he rapped on the door, this time a little harder, then had to rub his knuckles to ease the pain away.

Finally, it was half opened. A hunched old woman looked up at him quizzically.

‘Frau Rolf?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ she replied, suspiciously.

‘You probably don’t recognise me. My name’s Arnold Southwick. I came here on holiday with my parents in the 1930s. I became a pen pal of—’

‘Of Lotti’s? Yes, of course. I remember.’ She peered at him myopically through her spectacles. ‘Well I don’t really recognise you, to be honest,’ she laughed. ‘But I do remember your name, the fact that Lotti was fond of you. Would you like to come in?’

She fully opened the door, and ushered him inside. ‘You don’t have any luggage?’ she asked, her voice tinged with disappointment.

‘Ah sorry, no. I’m not here on holiday. I’m actually working at the university in Dresden temporarily. For a few months, possibly a year or so. I just thought I might pop in and say hello, for old time’s sake. Does Lotti still live with you?’

‘Oh no. She’s been gone a long while. I don’t think she had any interest in going into hotel work. She was never one to wait hand and foot on people.’

The woman showed him into the lounge and pointed to a chair. Everything looked horribly familiar – as though there had been no real investment in the hotel since the 1930s.

‘If you’re happy to let me have her address, it would be nice to look her up. Presumably she’s married with children by now?’

As he said the words, Arnie saw the cloud of sadness pass across Frau Rolf’s face. He remembered the old rule too late: assume nothing, otherwise you’ll make an ‘ass’ out of ‘u’ and ‘me’. He’d obviously put his foot in it.

‘I don’t think Lotti was ever the marrying type really,’ said the woman, sadly. ‘She’s had boyfriends, of course – well, one or two – but no one she’s ever really fallen for.’ Then her face brightened. ‘She was always very sweet on you, of course.’

‘Ha!’ laughed Arnie. ‘I’m sure she wouldn’t be now. Anyway, I’ve been happily married for more than thirty years. I was just interested in getting back in touch for old time’s sake.’