It was all over. Everything in England had been a dream and reality had now caught up with us. The Nazis had found us and Mama and I were about to be dragged out of a life we had no right to live.

I ran downstairs. Mama was standing in the hall, one hand clapped over her mouth, the other clutching a piece of paper.

‘What is it, Mama?’ I asked breathlessly. ‘What’s happened? Are you all right?’

She nodded and held out the piece of paper. It was an envelope. She took her hand away from her mouth. As she did, I could see that she was smiling. ‘It’s from your father,’ she said.

A letter. From Papa. Not the Nazis. Not something bad. Something wonderful.

As I took the envelope from her, my heart kept racing – but with excitement, not fear. It was covered in postmarks and scribbles. Our old address in Vienna was crossed out with thick red lines; postmarks declaring numerous posting points and dates covered the whole envelope, and at the top were two stamps. One bore the Nazi Eagle picture and the other was a picture of Adolf Hitler.

Even with all of that, I could still recognize the writing beneath the scrawls and stamps and forwarding marks. I would know it anywhere.

‘It is from Papa!’ I cried. I followed the trail of postmarks with my finger. One after another after another until I read the one covering the stamps and discovered something that shocked me. The original date was 1940. Papa’s letter had taken a whole year to reach us!

‘Come in the kitchen and let’s sit by the fire,’ Mama said. ‘We can read it in the warmth.’

I followed Mama into the kitchen. The room was still in darkness from last night’s air raid. We’d had the curtains closed for a blackout for almost twenty-four hours. The raids happened fairly regularly nowadays.

I pulled aside the curtain in the kitchen and opened the envelope as Mama stoked the fire. Then we pulled two stools together and read Papa’s letter.

My darling wife and my dearest son,

I hope this letter reaches you. I just want you to know that everything is fine with me. I have been moved to a place called Dachau where I am working hard alongside many friends and comrades. We are treated well. We sing as we work. We are well-fed and well-dressed and everything is really great.

And, Leo, guess what? I met your old friend Max the other day! He asked how you were and asked me to send you his fondest regards.

And of course so much of the same from me to you both. I will see you soon, I promise.

My love, always,

Papa

I gripped the letter and stared at the words, reading them over and over. And then a tear fell on to Papa’s words and smudged them.