“Will I go to heaven?” she said. “Yes, we all go to heaven eventually, but not for a very, very, very long time.” “When? A thousand years?” “Oh, even longer than that.” I glanced at the geranium plant on the windowsill, its leaves velvety and green. Chloe was quiet for a moment. “Will you be there, Mumma?” she said, looking straight at me, her chin resting in her hands now. The question hit the back of my throat. “Yes, my darling. Of course I’ll be there.”
