‘Leo, will you put your school books away now and help me set the table for Friday night dinner?’ Mama called from the other side of the kitchen.

I shook myself. Chewing on the thoughts like a dog with a bone wasn’t going to do any good. I closed the books I’d barely managed to read and put them into my school bag. ‘How can I help, Mama?’

‘Fetch me the candlesticks and candles,’ she said. ‘And get the tablecloth, serviettes and cutlery out, please. Let’s have the nice cutlery. I’ve invited Mr and Mrs Muller over for dinner.’

‘Really? How come?’ I asked as I opened the drawer where we kept the posh knives and forks.

‘Their daughter is getting married next year. We’re hoping they are going to ask your father to photograph the wedding, so we need to impress them.’

I laughed as I pulled out the tablecloth from the drawer. ‘And you think fancy cutlery will help?’ I asked.

Mama shrugged. ‘It can’t hurt.’

‘Omama is coming too, so set an extra place for her, please.’

As I reached into the drawer for the nice cutlery, which doubled as the drawer for odds and ends that had nowhere else to live, my hand fell on a piece of thin card. ‘What’s this?’ I asked. I pulled it out. It was an envelope addressed to Mama and Papa, opened at the top with a sheet of paper inside.

Mama turned round. ‘Oh, that. Did you never see it?’ she asked.

I shook my head. ‘What is it?’

‘Open it. Have a look.’

The letter was handwritten in German on personalized stationery. It had an address in England printed in swirly letters, with the words ‘Eric Stewart, Dental Practitioner’ written in English above it.

The name was familiar, but I couldn’t place it until I read the letter. It was very short and the German was clumsy but the meaning was clear enough.

To dear Mr and Mrs Grunberg,

Thank you for the wonderful day we have not forgotten. We very much enjoy our time in Vienna more because of you. And of course, your lovely son and fantastic cake!

With best wishes,

Eric and Aileen

‘The couple from the Ferris wheel!’ I exclaimed just as Papa was coming into the kitchen. ‘That was nice of them to thank us.’

‘It certainly was,’ Papa said. He held out a hand and I passed the letter and envelope to him. He read it over, then placed the letter back into the envelope. ‘Here, put it back where you found it,’ he said, handing it back to me.

‘Why have we kept it?’ I asked, putting the letter back in the drawer as Papa had told me.

Mama wiped her hands on her apron as she smiled at Papa. ‘Because your father is a sentimental old fool,’ she said softly.