Mapping the Edge by Sarah Dunant

late.”
    â€œIs it tomorrow yet?”
    â€œNo.” I laughed gently. “It’s still the middle of the night.”
    â€œDid you come on a plane with Mummy?”
    â€œOh, darling, no. I came from Amsterdam. Mummy isn’t home yet.” I put out my arms to her. She hesitated for a moment (I love watching her thoughts move) but stayed where she was. I wasn’t offended. It takes time with Lily. It always has done. Nothing personal.
    â€œDid you just wake up, Lil?”
    She shook her head. “I heard a noise. I thought it was Mum.”
    â€œNo. Only me. I was looking for something.”
    She gazed down at the desk, fingers prodding among the papers. Rushing her doesn’t help. “Mummy went to Italy,” she said after a while.
    â€œYes.”
    â€œHave you been to Italy?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œIs it nice?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œSometimes when you go somewhere that’s really nice you don’t want to come home.”
    â€œOh, I don’t think Italy is nice like that. She just couldn’t get on a plane.”
    She frowned. It struck me that although Paul is not a bad liar she hadn’t believed him.
    â€œI know she’ll be back soon; don’t worry,” I said, because that, as yet, was not a lie. “Shall I put you back to bed now?”
    She shook her head quickly.
    â€œYou’ll get cold.”
    She shook her head again, then climbed onto my lap and fitted herself into the curves of my body, inviting the hug. I pulled my arms tightly around her. Before she came along I hadn’t even known how to look after a dog. It’s amazing how children teach you what they need you to know. She was so warm. It was as if her blood was a higher temperature than mine. Do we lose heat as we grow older? I thought of death and its clammy coldness. Vodka. Once it’s warmed the blood, it chills the soul.
    â€œYou have to put the light on.”
    â€œWhich light?”
    â€œThe light in the porch. Mummy might come back and think there’s nobody home.”
    â€œOkay,” I said carefully. “I’ll make sure I switch it on.”
    â€œAre you sleeping in her bed?”
    â€œYes, I am. Paul’s in the other room.”
    â€œSo where will Mummy sleep?”
    â€œOh, sweetheart, I’ll move downstairs if she comes. I can always sleep on the sofa.”
    She considered it for a moment, then said, “She won’t know. You’d better leave her a note on the stairs saying that you’re in her bed. So she knows that she has to wake you.”
    I looked at her. Whatever your world picture, you still have to get it in order. The only difference is the size of the landscape.
    â€œGood idea. Shall we write it together?”
    I spelled out the words for her and she formed each of the big looping letters with great care. In the lamplight I watched her, entranced. Within the peach bloom of her cheeks I could read the outlines of Anna’s sleeker face. She already had her hair, wild coal-black curls, almost too rich and voluptuous for such a little face. Her father was harder to find, but then I never knew him that well.
    Lily was still laboring. “Hey, that’s great. You’re really learning fast.”
    She gave me a cool sidelong glance. “They’re just letters, Estella. Everyone can do them.”
    I made sure I didn’t laugh.
    When we were finished I took her downstairs and tucked her in. The room was like a cocoon, the twirling silhouette figures of the night-light sending out wild shadows across the walls and ceiling. She slipped in between the covers and turned away from me, falling almost immediately asleep.
    â€œDo you want a hug?” I whispered close to her ear, but there was no answer.
    As I left I pulled the door behind me.
    â€œLeave it open.”
    No, not asleep yet.
    I did as I was told. I left the note in the middle of the carpet in the hall, in a place where