I took one and sat cross-legged on the concrete of the roof to keep out of view.

Tilly closed her eyes, drinking in the sun’s glow. From the shops below, I heard the tinkling of door chimes and echoes of bargaining. For two weeks, I’d not walked farther than the length of a room. My legs felt unsure of themselves, weak. I stretched them out in front of me.

I thought Tilly had fallen asleep, so when she spoke, her voice startled me and caused me to sit up straight.

“You were limping,” she said. “What happened to your foot?”

I tried to hide my foot from her. She shook her head, disappointed.

Tahera’s stitches had pulled the edges of my wound together so tightly that the flesh had formed a lumpy ridge. I tried not to walk in the presence of Tilly or Nia, not wanting to draw attention.

“Maybe not today,” she said, turning to me. “But it will get better. And I’m not just talking about your foot. A foot is just a foot after all. I don’t know what happened to you, but I can see it was beastly, whatever it was. It will get better.”

She settled back into her chair and gazed at the cloudless sky.

“What does an old woman know—that’s probably what you’re thinking. I know this old woman isn’t always right. I was never known for making sensible decisions. You can ask Nia and she’ll be the first to agree. But I also know that children are very, very good at taking life’s lemons and making lemonade. I left Nia with plenty of lemons,” Tilly said wistfully. She pumped her small fist in the air. “And just look at her now!”

I didn’t understand what lemons had to do with anything, but I did understand she was telling me to trust her daughter. I wasn’t ready to do that because her daughter worked for a government and at the moment anything connected to governments made my palms sweat.

“I haven’t been here long. I flew in just a few weeks ago. Antonia was so surprised to see me, maybe even more surprised than we were to see you,” she exclaimed. “But I missed her. She’s a good person with a great big heart. And the way she knows how to work with all kinds of people—oh—it’s . . . it’s alchemy! She didn’t get that from me, though I did give her a love for the stage and stories. Her father, he was the one who really paid attention to her. He worked for a newspaper. Started reading articles to her before she could walk. Brilliant man though he was . . . well, it’s not right to speak ill of the dead. But he was a bit . . .”