FREYA
I keep my promise to Martin.
I dress in clothes that do not look like a Luna's clothes. I plait my hair the way I used to plait it when I was a girl. I go down the stairs and I find the boy already at the front door with his small jacket on and his small boots on the wrong feet, and Victoria is by the door in the cream wrap with her hand on his shoulder, smiling the small careful smile she has been using on me since the lilies.
"Aunty Luna!"
He breaks away from his mother's hand and comes to me at a small running step, and Victoria's face does its work for half a second — the small held breath, the small adjusted smile — and then she says, brightly:
"Have fun, you two."
The toy shop is on the long road, three blocks from the courtyard. Martin holds my hand the whole way. He cha
