‘You were quite an eager little puppy, as I remember.’ He looks slightly disapproving again. ‘All over me like a rash.’

He laughs nervously. Perhaps I’ve put my foot in it again.

‘I kept writing to you, you know,’ I say. ‘Through the war. I sent a few letters, but when I didn’t hear back, I still wrote them, but I just never sent them. I was worried about you. We never got much specific information about attacks on Hull, but it was a port on the North Sea. I expect it got hit badly, didn’t it?’

He looks terribly sad for a moment. I see his Adam’s apple going up and down quickly a few times, as though he’s struggling to compose himself. ‘It was bad, yes. Not as bad as Dresden, of course. I lost my baby brother.’

‘Oh Arnold,’ I say, reaching over and touching his hand. ‘I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to remind you of it.’

‘It’s OK. It’s not something you ever forget. The thing was, he looked so perfect. So undamaged. Just like he was sleeping and never woke up, which I suppose he was, really. They say that can happen – the blast wave destroys the internal organs, but outside, the body looks undamaged. That’s what made it so hard to believe. It devastated my parents, of course. They stuck together during the war – mainly for my sake I think, although there were terrible arguments. But they got divorced soon after, and I went to live with my mum. I never really got on with my dad, anyway.’

‘I remember you saying that, back on that holiday. It was almost like you hated him.’

‘I think part of me did. He was a very selfish man. Got quite rich in later life, but then remarried and basically got swindled by his second wife. But he seemed besotted with her, as though he didn’t care. She bankrupted him in the end.’

‘Her own husband?’

He nods. ‘Well her or her family did. I didn’t get a penny in the will. Anyway, what about you? Your mother says you spent the war in Dresden. That you were caught up in the firestorm. That must have been dreadful.’

Suddenly I have a horrible thought. He’s a researcher, a historian. Did he only want to meet up again because Mother told him about the burns? Is that all he wants – to hear first-hand what it was like? I don’t think I can bring myself to go over it all again. ‘It was. Awful.’ I point to the bad side of my face. ‘As you can see, I still bear the scars.’