“I’m so glad you think she’s nice, Fannikin.”

“She gives me sweets.”

Mary shot a look at Marguerite.

“I took them to her as a gift. Some caramels, hopjes, from my Dutch cousin. I just wanted to thank her for looking after little Mary.”

“How thoughtful, Marguerite. Thank you.”

“You’d like her. She’s good-hearted and gentle, sings songs while she suckles. A Scottish girl.” She turned to the midwife. “And a redhead! You’d like her too, Mrs. B.”

“What about my little bird?” said Mary, her voice catching in her throat. “How is she today?”

“Très, très bien,” said Marguerite.

“She’s getting fat, Mama! Even her tiny feet.”

“Isn’t that lovely,” said Mary, stroking Fanny’s hair.

Desperate for her mother’s touch, Fanny leaned into the crook of Mary’s arm, resting her small head on her shoulder. She made spiders with her fingers, crawling them in the air.

“Today, Mama, we found a spider in the kitchen, but we didn’t kill it. We put it outside, because I told Marguerite that you like spiders, and wouldn’t want it to die.”

“I admire them more than I like them. But I’m glad you saved its life.”

After a moment, and without any warning, Fanny looked up into her mother’s face and said, matter-of-factly, “Are you going to die, Mama?”

Mary looked down at Fanny, still nestled against her. How keen children were. Fanny, with her natural curiosity, always wanted to know everything, and Mary encouraged it. Why should now be any different? But the whole room held its breath.

“I am, sweet Fanny. I am.”

Marguerite all but gasped, and had to turn away. Mrs. B kept her gaze steady on mother and child. Just like that, it was said out loud, and done with.

“But does that mean we can’t play anymore?” said Fanny.

“There will be so much playing, Fannikin. You have Papa, and Marguerite, and your sister will want to play hoops with you sooner than you think, and you’ll have to teach her, of course, and then you’ll make friends at school, and hardly notice after a while.”

Marguerite turned to the window, her ribs heaving.

“May I play school in your study, Mama?” said Fanny, already on to the next thing.

“If it’s all right with Mrs. B,” said Mary, shooting a glance at the midwife. “She’s our guest.”

The midwife held her arms out for Fanny, who climbed into them without a second thought. “I’ll take you there myself.”

In the study Fanny climbed right onto the chair, stood up, and reached for the cracked quizzing glass hanging around the gold frame over her mother’s desk. She put the velvet ribbon around her neck. “I’m allowed,” she said.