Auntie Annu moved out of her flat and became lady of the manor. The whole of Auntie Annu’s old home would have fitted into the blue parlour of Extra Great Manor, and when Auntie’s furniture was carried in, the pieces squatted in the corner of the hall, hopelessly low, tatty and fragile.

The old wooden dresser was the only item of furniture that suited Extra Great Manor. It had stood, dark and heavy, in Auntie’s studio, partially hidden behind a door. There wasn’t enough room to open its own doors fully. But even stuck in that corner, the cupboard had managed to look like the only real piece of furniture in the flat. Now, as it was carried into the drawing room, it puffed up its chest, straightened itself out and let its decorative patterns flourish.

I loved Auntie’s Czech coffee cups. Each one was different, and yet they went together. They had roses of different colours, landscapes, golden whorls, slender blades of grass, rust-coloured hearts and green triangles. The cups hung on the hooks in the cupboard, the matching saucers sitting underneath.

When it was time for coffee, Auntie Annu let me lay the table and choose the cups I wanted. Usually I picked a rose or a circle of girls in folk costume for myself, bear paws or violets for Mum, golden trees or pale-blue sailing boats for Dad, and an extra-large mug that showed a girl in a bonnet feeding Bambi for Auntie Annu.

Extra Great Manor had a thick stone foundation, large steps leading up through a glass veranda, two columns in front of the door and one tower. The manor stood on the ground as sturdy as an oak. You could crawl into the stone foundation through three hatches, but because it had no windows, it was pitch-black inside. There was a circular lawn in front of the manor, on the posh side, and a tree-lined avenue led to it. The tower at the south end had a small summer room at the top, which was reached via a spiral staircase. This granted a 360-degree view, and Auntie Annu arranged for a bed to be carried to the middle of it. The bed had to be lifted through the window in two pieces, using a rope, because the spiral staircase was too narrow. That’s where Auntie slept, at the top of the tower, until the nights grew cold.

Downstairs was a kitchen and five rooms all named after colours: Blue, Green, Lilac and Yellow Rooms, along with Red Hall. Upstairs was a library and fifteen small bedrooms. The bedrooms held metal hospital beds and small, wartime stoves, but otherwise they were empty. There were no books in the library, but a large, old bookcase was discovered in the attic, and Annu, Dad and Mum carried it back into the library together. Auntie later bought a sofa, a smoking table and armchairs at auction.