“What about fairy tales?” I ask, selecting a picture book with intricately detailed drawings. “How do you like Sleeping Beauty?”
“Okay, but not them.” Sophia tromps to the other end of the shelf, pointing to some wider books. “These are better.”
I pull out the first and nearly drop it as I realise it’s not a commercial book at all. The boards at front and back are heavy card with hand painted titles. When I rub my thumb across them, the textures go from rough to smooth.
Inside, I find old tales written in a new way. While Sophia chews on her knuckle—somehow finding it tastier than the elaborate spread that Nora prepared—I read about a boy buying magic beans, climbing a beanstalk, and making friends with a giant who has a gold fetish. They join forces, travelling the country and raising money for orphans with their fantastic gold-laying-hen show.
Another has sleeping beauty, a spoiled princess who learns the value of hard work when everyone else in the castle falls asleep and all the maintenance is left to her. When they wake, she has a new appreciation for their efforts and supports them unionising. The leader asks for her hand in marriage and together they turn the castle fortune into a working estate that services the poor and needy in their land.
The storylines might be corny, but the paintings that accompany them are extraordinary. They cram in as much detail as a Richard Scarry picture, with tiny jokes dotted in the images. Probably far more than I can see at a glance.
They’re designed to be read and reread as tired little eyes scan the drawings to find extra details, letting them stay fresh even as the story grows old. The signature in each corner reads Alice May.
“Where did these come from?” I ask, not holding out much hope that Sophia will know, but the girl surprises me.
“Mum made them. They’re her special books and I have the only copies in the world.”
“She’s very talented.”
Sophia beams widely as if the compliment were paid to her. “Daddy says I can have art lessons when I’m older, then I’ll be able to make my own books, too.”
“Would you like that?”
She nods vigorously. “Yes. I’m going to be a painter like Mummy and grow up to marry a prince that I make up in my drawings.”
Fair enough. It’s a better plan than I ever made. But I feel a sudden rush of concern that the woman who penned these lovely volumes is nowhere to be seen. What had Baxter said about Sophia’s mother? Just that shewas gone. Whatever that meant.
The formerly innocuous statement has taken on a more ominous ring. A missing mum and a missing nanny. Baxter must have been extremely careless to misplace them both.
“Is your mummy—?”
“Hey,” Yuri calls from the doorway. “Have you chosen one yet?”
Sophia shakes her head, but I hold up the stack of books and contradict her. “We’ll start with these.”
“I don’t want you to go.”
She grabs hold of me with similar force to the day we met. “Hey, I’m coming back tomorrow. Don’t worry.” But she continues to cling with such passion that I don’t know how to extricate myself without hurting her.
Luckily, Yuri walks over and taps a finger on her head. “Hey, little miss.”
“No. No tapping.”
He whistles innocently, eyes darting to the ceiling, then ducks to tap on top of her shoe.
“Get away,” she shrieks at eardrum piercing level, her wide smile the happiest I’ve seen her all day.
“Me? I’m not doing anything.”
As Sophia jerks her head around, trying to catch him out, she releases one hand, swivelling as he folds his arms and tilts his head to the side. When she blinks, he taps the back of the hand still holding onto me and she lets go, leaning over to bat at his calf. “No tapping.”
“Who’s tapping? I didn’t see anyone tapping.”
She’s hysterical with laughter as she tries to grab his hands, but he backs away, holding them up, the picture of innocence. He nods to me, and I slip out of the room, waiting in the hallway out of sight until he joins me a few minutes later.
“Why do I have a bodyguard to escort me to my room, but Sophia gets to stay in there, alone?”
He points soundlessly to a tiny camera facing her door. Once I’ve seen it, I spot more. During the journey, I count another five. “Besides,” Yuri says once he deposits me back to my room. “Sophia knows her way around this house. You’d get lost trying to make it here alone.”
