Map of Shadows

Chapter 2

2

The doorbell tinkled as Bridget walked out and for a moment, Sienna just breathed in the air of the map shop. She sensed her grandfather's eye for detail in the angled lines of the wall displays, antique maps worth thousands of pounds hanging next to modern portrayals of emotional landscapes. After all, a map of the human heart is worth far more than the map of a city, she remembered him saying.

She looked down at his desk. An antique parchment map of Bath sat where he must have left it. It looked like something had spilled on the lines of The Circus, as if a red haze settled upon it. Why had he gone down there in the middle of the night?

Sienna sighed. She should have come to see him over the last years. After all, it wasn't so far to Bath, and even though her mother had kept them apart, there was no need to remain distant after going up to Oxford. He must have been lonely here, his only son dead, his only granddaughter estranged. A pang of guilt flushed through her. She should have been here for him, and now he was gone.

She opened the envelope to find one piece of cream paper inside, dated a year previously.

Dear Sienna,

As I write this, you are just finishing your degree at Oxford. I'm so proud of you, and I know your father would have been too. Geography was always his passion, as it has been mine, and I hope it can continue to be yours.

I'm sorry that we weren't able to be friends, but time and circumstance have stood between us. If you're reading this, I'm gone, and although I had hoped to spare you this, our family has always answered the call, and now it's your turn. Bridget will be able to explain more.

For now, the map shop is yours. I've arranged all the legal details, and it is in your name, along with the bank accounts and the flat above.

There will be those who try to part you from the shop, but the maps here are yours too. I hope you will remember how you felt their reality in your childhood. It's time to let that feeling emerge again, Sienna, because there is more at stake than you know.

For Galileo, and with much love,

Granddad Michael

Sienna frowned, her mind whirling with so many questions. She sat down heavily, looking up at the maps around her with new eyes. This was all hers.

She couldn't help the smile that spread across her face, even though loss resonated deep within her. It felt like coming home at last.

If she was honest, the memories of being here had driven her into studying Geography, the obsession with maps something her mother hadn't been able to remove despite emotional blackmail over the years. Your father was lost over his obsession with maps. I won't have you go the same way.

Her phone rang.

"Hi, Mum."

"Are you there, sweetie? Is it awful?"

"I'm here. It's fine. I met Granddad's friend, Bridget, and she gave me a letter."

A moment of silence and Sienna could sense her mother's dread. "What did it say?"

She took a deep breath. "He left me the map shop. The flat, the bank accounts. Even though I hadn't seen him for years. It's so strange."

"Well, that's wonderful news because you can sell it and use the money to pay off your loans and get a new start in London." Sienna tuned out as her mother rattled on about how much she could get for a place in central Bath and how lucky she was, and it was good because her father didn't leave anything and on and on.

Sienna looked around at the maps and felt them calling to her again. She stood and went to one of the racks, leafing through them as she made agreeable noises. On some of the maps, her fingers trembled against a kind of magnetic field from the paper even through the plastic sleeves that covered them. It was strange, and yet, it also felt natural. Some of the maps didn't have this effect. Maybe there was something in the paper? Perhaps Bridget would be able to help, as her grandfather had suggested.

"So, do you want me to contact the estate agents?" Her mother's voice broke through. "There's one just around the corner from you. I could get it sorted tomorrow."

"No, I need to wait a little, Mum. Let me sort this out myself."

"Well, don't wait too long. That street must look beautiful with the summer flowers out. It's a very good time to sell."

The doorbell tinkled again. Sienna turned to see a tall man enter, his frame erect, his back straight in an almost military fashion. He was distinguished, salt and pepper hair swept back from an angular face, with a patrician nose and thin lips. A vertical scar ran down from his right eye to his short beard, the skin pale and puckered around the old wound. He wore a tailored three-piece suit in English tweed and looked as if he'd just stepped out of one of the paintings from the Holburne Museum.

"I've got to go, Mum. I'll call you later." Sienna hung up and turned to the man. "Morning, can I help you?"

The man looked at her, eyes narrowing for a moment, then he smiled in recognition. "I was looking for Michael." His accent was impeccable Queen's English. "But you must be his granddaughter. I've seen pictures of you. Sienna, is it?" He reached out a hand. "I'm Sir Douglas Mercator."

Sienna stepped forward and shook his hand, meeting his grey eyes, the color of a wolf pelt. His grip was firm, his hand cool and although he was charming, there was something about him that made her take a step back. She felt rather than heard a rustle in the maps around her. "My grandfather isn't here. He … He died yesterday."

Saying the words aloud made Sienna flinch as if it made real something that had only been an idea before.

Sir Douglas' gaze didn't drop; his expression didn't falter. "Oh, I'm so sorry for your loss. You must have a lot to sort out here." He stepped forward and ran his hand over one of the maps displayed on the countertop. It was covered in glass, but Sienna thought she could smell burning, as if his touch singed the edges.

He turned back, pulled a business card from his jacket pocket and handed it to her. "I'm a dealer in antique maps, like your grandfather was." The card was embossed in gold, the word Mercator entwined with a projection of the globe.

"Oh, of course." Sienna shook her head in apology. "Sorry, I didn't recognize your name at first. Are you related to the Flemish cartographer?"

Sir Douglas nodded. "Yes, I'm a direct descendant. Our family have been in the map trade since his day." He looked around the shop, his eyes alight with interest. "I knew your father as well. He was my contemporary when we studied Geography at Oxford. I believe it is your alma mater, too?"

Sienna nodded, a little in awe of the man. After all, he was cartographic royalty.

"With Michael gone, and your father too, perhaps the shop is yours now?" His voice changed, and Sienna sensed a covetousness behind his charm. "I've been trying to buy this shop from Michael for years. He was too old to run it well of late, and I have clients who would be interested in some of the maps. I can offer you a very good deal, Sienna. You'd have more money than you need and I'd handle everything for you. This is my world, after all." He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I'm sure you have a lot to think about, so keep my card and call me if you'd like to sell. Or even to offload some of this stock." He waved a hand around at the maps.

"Thank you. I'll definitely think about it."

Sir Douglas gave her a long look, then nodded and swept out of the shop. Sienna sensed the space exhale as if it had been holding itself in check while he was present. She went over to the map he had touched, and sure enough, around the edges, faint charring had appeared, dark patches of soot as if it had been burned. She shook her head. What was going on here?

Sienna went to the door and locked it, turning the sign to Closed. She didn't need any more unexpected visitors, and she wanted to look at the flat upstairs. Behind the desk at the back of the shop, a narrow wooden staircase wound up to the first floor. The stairs creaked as she walked up, the language of an old building, and she thought about her grandfather walking up here, footsteps heavy after a day's work.

At the top, a faded red wooden door etched with a curious five-pointed compass blocked the way. Sienna tried several of the keys until one fitted the lock and she walked in.

She had expected a musty old place, somewhere you'd expect an eighty-year-old to live, but her breath caught as she emerged into a wide open-plan living space. The walls had been opened up into archways, with picture windows looking out over the street on one side and a little courtyard at the back. A stylish kitchen and tasteful furniture made it into a modern flat, the type of place she'd only seen in magazines. Nothing like the chaos of her mother's house, packed to the gunnels with chests and boxes and bags. This was a haven and Sienna exhaled, relaxing into it.

One long wall of shelves was piled high with books, and she stepped closer to see what they were. The Atlas of Improbable Places, books of photos from abandoned cities, and a shelf of journals. They were all black, leather-bound hardbacks in the same A5 size, each with an elastic band to hold loose papers inside. They were dated on the spine, one per year going back to the 1950s.

Sienna's heart pounded as she considered them. They were her grandfather's private words, but he was gone, and after all, he'd left them here out in the open. She pulled one from the shelf and leafed through the pages. His handwriting was almost illegible, but it wasn't the words that caught her eye, it was the hand-drawn maps and sketches inside. The pencil lines were exact and confident, line drawings of temples next to a rough street map. She recognized the name of the place, but it didn't make sense. Babylon, a ruined city lost in time, but here, her grandfather had drawn it as if it were still alive, as if he had explored its streets.

The journals only added more questions to the many she already had. Sienna sat back and looked around her at the light and airy flat. It already felt like home. The job wasn't working out in Oxford anyway, so perhaps she should move here. Let Sir Douglas sell the shop and keep this part, or rent it, or something. There were suddenly so many options. She needed a coffee.

There was a little café over the street, so Sienna headed back downstairs, out the door and over to the Green Door. It bustled with customers, and the familiar smell of ground coffee filled the air. A young woman with pink curly hair and glitter in her eyebrows smiled in greeting as she arranged sweet pastries on the countertop.

"What can I get you, my lovely?" Her broad West Country accent made Sienna smile. Bath was in Somerset, after all, home of cider, rolling hills and Cheddar cheese.

"Just a black Americano, thanks."

As the young woman made the coffee, Sienna looked around at the place. Students worked on laptops as two men engaged in a heated business discussion in one corner, while a well-preserved older lady read the paper opposite them. Sienna wondered if her grandfather had sat here sometimes, and a pang of regret shot through her at opportunities lost.

She took her coffee out to the street and walked down Elizabeth Buildings towards Brock Street, wanting to catch the last rays of the sun. At the end, she turned towards the Royal Crescent where a group of tourists stood on the edge of the green lawn of Royal Victoria Park. Families sat enjoying the sun, playing games and laughing.

Sienna looked both ways and glimpsed a young, mixed-race woman walking a golden cocker spaniel on the opposite side of the road. The little dog looked up and started wagging its tail as it saw her just as a double-decker tourist bus turned the corner. It sped towards them, going too fast for the little streets. The spaniel ran out suddenly into the road, barking in excitement, its eyes fixed upon Sienna.

"Zippy! Come back!" the young woman shouted as the bus barreled down on them.