I narrow my eyes. “What does that mean? You’ve got a funny note in your voice.”

“Really? Must be getting a cold,” she says innocently.

I’m thinking up a way to question her, when someone calls from the back of the library. “Is that you, Mikhail?”

I smile at the sound of my full name and turn to find a little old man who’s a regular in the library. “It is, Mr Turner. How are you?”

He shakes my hand. “Fine, fine. Wonder if you’d have a look at some forms with me?”

“Of course I will.” I follow him to a table at the back of the library, waving goodbye to Bethany.

We sit for a while going through the paperwork for a disability payment while he chatters about his grandchildren and Christmas plans. I’d once helped him with these forms while I was waiting for Charlie to finish work, and now it seems to be my permanent job. I don’t mind. He helped Charlie a couple of years ago when Charlie had a seizure while he was locking up the library. When I pulled into the car park, I’d found Charlie on the floor, but Mr Turner had stayed with him. He’d covered him with his own coat and was sitting holding Charlie’s hand. For that, I will help him with any paperwork for the rest of his life.

The strains of “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” sound from the children’s area, followed by exuberant squeals and laughter. Charlie appears at the entrance, and Bethany hurries over to hand a basket to him. Mr Turner and I watch as the children and parents come out, pulling on their coats, the children dipping their hands into the basket and pulling out little presents. Their faces are flushed and happy.

A few minutes later, Marlena appears and makes her way over to us. In her heels, she must be six foot three, and little bells ring from somewhere on her dress. Mr Turner and I rise to our feet, as one is advised to do when greeting a queen. She waves us to our seats and settles down next to us, reaching into her large bag and pulling out a Tupperware box.

“Oh my God,” I say indignantly. “Those are Charlie’s mince pies. How did I not get some to take to work?”

“You’re not nearly as important as me, darling,” she purrs.

I laugh. “That’s true.”

“But seeing as it’s Christmas and I am imbued with the festive spirit, I shall let you have one.” She checks the box. “But only a small one.”

I smile and hold out my hand. “How about you choose one for me, my queen.”