THE MISSING LINK
To most people, the photograph of my mother and grandmother is simply a black-and-white image of a pretty young woman holding a baby. She has a half smile on her face as the child tries to wriggle free. But to me, it’s both heartbreaking and incredible. The baby, Evelyn, is my mum and the woman, Dora, my grandma. Mum never had the chance to see the photo, never even knew it existed. She died, aged 69, believing her mother had perished in a concentration camp.
Mum couldn’t have dreamed that, across the
