As I walked through the front door of our house, the rich aroma of chocolate filled the air.
My mum, Lila, then 55, was making her famous Russian truffles.
‘Toolinka, help me in the kitchen,’ she called, using my nickname.
I was 13, and my brother Dimi, 15, and I loved helping Mum cook after school and on weekends.
While we stirred the pot of melted cocoa, she often told us the story of how her father – our grandfather Jeremiah – crossed the Russian border
