This photo was the only portrait I had ever seen of my grandfather. My grandmother’s hair looks greyer and she seems older and wearier than in the photograph taken only a couple of months earlier. Both photographs must have been sent to my father by his family in Berlin when he was in Port Elizabeth. Perhaps they were sent to him together with a letter from his mother. Or maybe Artur brought them with him when he came to South Africa in 1938. I have never found out why the portrait of my grandparents was hidden for so long behind that of the three sombre women that stood on a table in my childhood home.