It was very early – she wasn’t sure of the time exactly, but the maids had only just been lighting the stove when she scurried out of the back door of Merrythought House. It was full summer, and the sun was hot already, glittering on the ripples. The hard, silvery light seemed to cut a path across the grey-blue sea, so clear a path that it looked almost solid, and Lily longed to step out onto it, and walk across. She stretched out a foot, even, without realising it, and might have stepped into the water, if Peter hadn’t snorted in disgust at her silliness, and grabbed her elbow. Lily blinked and turned to look him. His arms were folded now, and he was eyeing her, his nose wrinkled up as though he were trying not to laugh. She glared back at him. ‘What? I wasn’t actually going to!’ She sighed, and sat down on the warm stones, opening her book again. She didn’t really understand it – it was a great fat thing about the practice of glamours that she’d found in the china cupboard – but she was trying to.
