Alexandra poured boiling water from the kettle into a teapot stuffed with a handful of fresh mint and took a moment to breathe in the steam and calm herself. She leaned against the worn wooden bench and counted to sixty.

Though it was Romy who was lying on the sofa needing care, she’d sent her granddaughter into the kitchen for tea with instructions to inhale the steam for a minute. Satisfied she’d followed Oma’s instructions, Alexandra took one last deep breath and loaded up the tray with the croissants and the raspberry jam in a silver pot with matching spoon then carried it into Puyuan’s sitting room.

She poured tea into green Chinoiserie teacups and passed a cup to Nina before taking another across to the window seat, where she collapsed into the cushions. Romy dozed on the sofa, a navy woollen blanket pulled up under her chin.

‘I don’t want to wake her,’ said Alexandra, longing to stroke Romy’s translucent papery skin.

Her Oma looked peaceful—the tightness that normally lingered across her brow had eased.

Nina walked over with her tea to join Alexandra on the window seat. ‘You weren’t to know your grandmother would have a fall. None of us were.’ She raised her eyebrows and shrugged. ‘And we’d just paid for our next hiking trip up in the High Country.’ She rocked back and forth with her hands on her hips—she needed to stretch.

Alexandra couldn’t help but smile at the prospect of the two of them trailing a buff mountain guide, shuffling up the hill, sidestepping when it got too steep and using the walking poles to help them along.

Romy stirred and eyed the warm croissants. ‘Breakfast. You are spoiling me, Alexandra.’

Nina served herself a thumbnail-sized piece of soft cheese, a sliver of prosciutto and half a slice of rye bread.

Romy and Alexandra eyed each other. Alexandra waited for Oma to speak.

‘So, why this rush from Shanghai?’ Romy paused, eyes dancing. ‘I didn’t tell you about my ankle, but it’s fine.’ She shot Nina an accusing look. ‘Nina and I have the mahjong competition tomorrow. I suspect your sudden return is not due to an urge to score?’

Alexandra glanced through the window at Zhang, who was down on his knees weeding in the garden. The winter kale curled in a dark and luscious dance above his head.

Smiling, she turned back to Romy.

‘You love him,’ said Romy.

‘How could she not?’ said Nina, chuckling as she watched Zhang roll up the sleeves of his shirt.

But before she could face her own future, and the family she dared to hope for, Alexandra needed some questions answered. The same ones her mother had asked.

But mostly I wonder: did they love me?

Because if they did, then why did they give me away?

No more secrets.

Alexandra took a deep breath and pulled out the faded Calendar Girl photo of Li Ho that Cynthia had kindly given her. She placed it on the old oak coffee table and ran her hands over it to flatten the corners.

Nina and Oma exchanged a look.

Alexandra tapped Li’s neck. ‘Oma, that’s my necklace.’ She touched a hand to the pendant around her throat. ‘Isn’t it?’

Romy ran her fingers over the photograph, her eyes filling with tears. Nina passed her a tissue. A guttural, animal noise burst from Romy’s lips, startling Alexandra.

Not quite a groan, the noise sat somewhere between relief and anguish. Her thin shoulders hunched.

Alexandra regretted bringing the photo. She held her breath.

Her grandmother leaned over and began to sob so hard Alexandra thought she might break in half.

Alexandra walked over to the sofa and wrapped her grandmother in a hug.

‘Oma, what is it?’

A beat.

Romy wiped her nose, collecting herself. Nina came to stand behind the sofa and place a hand on Romy’s shoulder.

‘It’s time, Romy. Wilhelm’s gone—bless his soul.’ Nina looked at the ceiling. ‘What good can come of this secret now?’ Her voice was coaxing, encouraging.

Romy blew her nose and nodded. ‘You’re right.’ And she reached out to touch the pendant, before stroking Alexandra’s cheek. ‘You are so like her,’ she whispered.

‘You knew her.’ Alexandra produced the photo of the two girls standing by the trees. ‘This was with Mum’s stuff.’

Romy raised an eyebrow. ‘I thought I’d gone mad. You mother must have snaffled it.’ She shook her head. ‘Li Ho was my neighbour and dear, dear friend.’ She sighed. ‘She was beautiful. A light brighter than the rest of us put together.’

Nina coughed, rolled her eyes and straightened her kaftan as she shifted in her seat.

‘What happened?’

‘She was killed. Shot. There was no escape. I—I tried…’

Alexandra felt herself go perfectly still.

‘She lived with a gangster—to keep her brother alive,’ Romy continued softly. ‘I delivered her baby. She was bleeding out, the soldiers were breaking the door down. She begged me to take her daughter. I promised I’d look after her. Take her to her real father and hide her from the horrid man she lived with.’

Romy’s voice was raspy, her hands shaking as she lifted her tea for a sip.

Alexandra’s hand moved to her pendant and she gave it a stroke. ‘And the necklace?’ she whispered, fearful of the answer.

‘She ripped it from her neck and bade me give it to her daughter at a time when it could not be traced back to her.’

Alexandra was just about to ask when she’d given the daughter the necklace when Romy turned to face her and clasped both her hands.

‘There’s something I should have shown you a long time ago. Nina, can you get me the box, please?’

Nina looked from Romy to Alexandra and said, ‘I told you…’

‘Nina—’ Romy’s voice was a mix of exasperation and defeat. She shook her head. ‘Please?’

Nina left Romy and Alexandra snuggling deeper into the sofa and shuffled into the kitchen. When she returned, she was holding a brown mahogany box. She placed two envelopes on Alexandra’s lap.

Alexandra opened the first envelope. Inside was a birth certificate issued by the Jewish Hospital, Ward Road, Hongkew.

Mother: Li Ho.

Father: Wilhelm Cohen

Alexandra gasped. Wilhelm had had a baby girl during the war. Her mum wasn’t adopted at all. Opa was her real grandfather. That explained her special connection with him. All those hours studying. It was like she always knew…Her face flushed with pleasure.

‘Yes. He was the father of Li’s child. Even as a mewling newborn, she had the same magnetic focus as her mother. Unmistakable.’ Romy paused and closed her eyes, as if summoning the strength to keep talking. She tapped the second envelope gently with her finger but didn’t open it.

‘But that baby died in 1945 when the Americans bombed the ghetto. I was going to my lesson, and the chaos…’ She paused. ‘There were soldiers everywhere. So much blood. I tried to save—’ Her voice broke and she took a deep breath and gathered herself. ‘There were so many…’

‘Was this the same bombing in which your parents were killed?’ Alexandra remembered Romy telling her that story many years ago.

‘Yes. Li and Wilhelm’s baby, Shu, was also killed.’ She gave an anguished cry and covered her face with her hands. ‘I promised to keep her safe, but I failed—’

‘Ach,’ comforted Nina. ‘Your family cherished that baby, Romy. You know this. She was loved.’ It was clear from Nina’s voice that they had discussed this many times over the years.

Alexandra gasped. ‘You were there, Nina?’

Nina nodded. ‘Your grandmother didn’t stop moving that day. Working alongside the Japanese soldiers, slinging patients over her shoulders, holding their hands and easing their pain as they—’ She stopped.

When she spoke again, her tone was far softer. ‘You can’t imagine the chaos. The carnage. We were still in danger, but Romy…They say war brings out the worst in humans. In your grandmother, I saw only the best.’

Romy looked at Alexandra, the hurt so fresh in her brown eyes. ‘I wasn’t prepared for a child. I was just nineteen myself. There was so little food. The Lams fed her rice milk.’ She hesitated. ‘I thought it was for the best. Papa signed her birth certificate. For Li. He adored her—we all did. And Wilhelm, well, you know what a good man he was.’

She covered her face with her hands and started sobbing again.

‘What is it, Oma? What is it you’re not telling me?’

‘My biggest regret. I lied to Wilhelm. I had a baby too. Nina and I were on our way to Australia and we were held up in Hong Kong. We stayed at the Peninsula for just over ten months.’ She reached for Nina’s hand. ‘Nina helped me deliver the baby. And a doctor…’ She paused, as if to add something, then decided against it. She exhaled. ‘The father—your grandfather—was Jian Ho. Li’s brother.’

‘Jian Ho?’ Alexandra echoed. She told Oma of the old treatment rooms in Tianzifang, and Cynthia’s discovery that Dr Jian Ho had been a political prisoner for four decades in Chongqing. He’d been caught trying to escape Shanghai and, after the war ended, he was convicted of being a Japanese collaborator.

The three women sat on the sofa, holding hands as long-guarded secrets and memories both happy and sad tumbled out and filled the room. Sometimes, Oma’s voice would waver and Alexandra worried it was too hard on her grandmother to relive such sorrow. But then Nina would interrupt, describing the apricot torte at Café Louis in Hongkew and the American soldiers she’d danced with at the Cathay until all three women were hoarse from laughing as well as crying.

Alexandra looked at the flickering candle on the mantelpiece. A candle had been burning there for as long as she could remember. A burning light for Romy’s loved ones. Another child lost to war.

Alexandra held Oma’s gaze, trying to digest all her grandmother had just revealed. So many secrets.

‘I read your diary, Oma. I keep reading it. You both lost your families and witnessed such terrible things.’ Alexandra shook her head. She looked at the two women. She understood now why they never spoke about the war and the hardships of life in Shanghai. ‘How did you…’ She paused, not quite sure how to phrase her question.

‘You want to know how we stay so fabelhaft?’ Nina shimmied in her seat. She was wearing a fuchsia kaftan and hooped earrings. Even at eleven in the morning she was dressed for cocktails.

Romy snorted. ‘Speak for yourself. I’m more Dummkopf!’ She gestured at her injured ankle. ‘It’s like our friend Delma wrote to us back in 1948. Can you pass me her letter, please, Nina?’

Her friend rummaged in the box and handed over a brownish letter as thin as tissue paper.

Romy lifted the half-moon glasses that hung on a cord around her neck and started to read. ‘This was not long after Delma settled in America and had started working for the Red Cross.’

I remember my time in Shanghai—Little Vienna—with gratitude. While our people were destitute, I think of what my family had to endure in those German and Polish death camps. The hollow faces and lines of bodies I see in the newspapers haunt me. I have stopped reading the stories, but I cannot look away from the images. People knee deep in excrement as if they were cattle lining up for slaughter. Enough!

I have no news of my brother, nor my parents. I don’t know if I shall ever find out what became of them but I shall keep trying. I have found answers for others and it is always bittersweet.

I try to honour those left behind by taking new steps in this country. I will stay strong and healthy. Eva and I are happy enough with our new life in Chicago. We are lucky.

‘You see, Liebling. We made so many mistakes—’

Nina tutted and smoothed her kaftan out across her legs. ‘Speak for yourself!’

‘Stop interrupting!’ Romy scolded. ‘We can’t choose what happens to us. But we can choose how we respond.’

Alexandra embraced both women. She was the lucky one.

She tapped on the window to attract Zhang’s attention. He stood and brushed the dirt off the front of his pants, tilting his head to one side. She beckoned him inside.

A few minutes later he joined them in the sitting room. ‘Everything all right?’

Romy picked up the red envelope and pulled out the page with the painted calligraphy symbol. Fu. It was a message sending good luck and good fortune. It had arrived mysteriously in the post about twenty years after Romy had migrated to Australia.

‘He knew,’ said Alexandra.

‘Yes,’ said Romy. ‘Jian was a wonderful, wonderful man.’