The Folded Map

In the old quarter, where the alleys were narrow and paved with stone and jasmine climbed over the walls, Maryam and Ali's grandfather's house had stood for more than a hundred years. It had a big wooden door with a brass knocker shaped like a hand, and in the middle was a wide courtyard with a little stone fountain, surrounded by a floor of colourful mosaic.

The whole family arrived a week before Grandpa Yousef's eightieth birthday: aunts and uncles, cousins, and the cats who strolled round the courtyard as if they owned it. The house buzzed with voices and smelt of freshly baked biscuits.

"We want to give Grandpa a party he'll never forget," said Maryam's mother. "Everyone think of a special present."

Maryam, who was ten and loved reading and writing in her little red notebook, wondered, What do you give a man who already has everything?