Otto doesn’t ask as many questions as I do. He’s more interested in finding broken things and fixing them. He’s never happier than when he gets to spend hours with two planks of wood, a hammer and a box of nails. He takes after Vati. Vati’s a building contractor, so fixing things is his job. In Otto’s case, the things he fixes often end up even more broken once he’s done with them!

I sometimes wonder if Otto likes fixing things so much because he never fully fixed his leg after he fell out of a tree when he was five years old. He broke it in three places and had plaster all the way down his leg for the whole summer. The bones mended but he’s always had a slight limp since then. He hides it pretty well, and only mentions it very occasionally. ‘I wish I could make my leg as perfect as this shelf!’ he’ll say, but he’s not complaining when he says things like that. He’s usually hinting for us to admire his work!

He hasn’t said anything about the way things have changed at home, but I know he’s noticed it too. I can feel it from him, even in his silence.

It wasn’t always like this. I can’t even remember when it changed, but it seems like a really long time since I last saw Mutti smile.

Not like Mrs Stewart.

Mrs Stewart smiles all the time. She smiles while Mr Grunberg talks; she smiles at her husband; she smiles even while she’s talking. I make a note to practise that in front of a mirror. Smiling and talking at the same time: I bet it’s quite a skill.

One of the men says something funny and Mrs Stewart throws back her head and laughs so heartily it’s like an infection that spreads through the carriage, making everyone around her smile and laugh too.

I have a sudden memory.

Mutti and Vati in the kitchen, dishes on the table still to be washed, Vati’s arm around Mutti’s waist. There is music from somewhere. A waltz, I think. My grandparents were still alive then. I remember Grandpa tapping his foot to the rhythm, Grandma smiling and nodding with the music. Vati lifting an arm and Mutti twirling around beneath it before coming back into his arms.

The music ending, Vati taking a bow and Mutti laughing before returning to the table to pile the dishes up.

The memory hurts in my tummy. It feels so distant now.

I’ll ask Mutti tonight if she remembers. See if it makes her smile when I tell her. I’ll ask if she and Vati will dance in the kitchen again. I’ll tell her how pretty she used to look when she smiled. That might make her do it more often.