Twelve O'Clock

Sara had not wanted to spend the summer at her grandmother's house.

She had planned everything: she would read twenty books, sleep until noon and avoid everyone. But her mother had been offered a job in a faraway city for three months, and her father was travelling, so there was only one place left to go: Grandma Hayat's house, above the Star Library in the old quarter.

Sara arrived in the evening, as the sun was setting behind the domes. The alleys were narrow and paved with stone, the brass lanterns were being lit one after another, and the smell of warm bread drifted out of a little bakery on the corner. At the end of the lane she saw a wooden sign carved with a golden star, and beneath it two words: The Star Library.

Her grandmother opened the door before Sara could knock, as if she had known exactly when she would arrive. She was a small woman with white hair piled up in a bun, a purple shawl round her shoulders and an olive-wood walking stick in her hand. Her eyes twinkled in a curious way, as though they knew a secret.