We move apart, and I smile at the sight of Charlie who is putting a cup of hot chocolate in front of Nick, the homeless bloke who usually comes into the library to get warm in the afternoon. Charlie pats Nick on the shoulder and walks over to us.

“Another amazing story time, Marlena,” he says happily. “The children loved it. Thank you.”

She hugs him, her face full of affection. “Merry Christmas, Charlie,” she says. “Thank you so much for this year.” She stands back, grabbing his shoulders. “It’s meant such a lot to the community, and I swear it’s given me a new lease on life.”

He smiles at her, and everything that’s Charlie is in that smile. Warmth, sunshine, and a caring nature. You can totally see why people bend over backwards to look after him.

“You didn’t need one,” he says. “You’ll always be younger than anyone else in the room.”

“Dear boy.” She pats him on the cheek. “Make sure you take care of yourself, Charlie.” She pauses. “Or I will find you and inflict great pain.”

He looks startled. “Oh. Of course. You too,” he says faintly, and I snort.

She turns back to me. “Merry Christmas, Misha. Don’t be stupid for much longer.” And then she’s gone.

“And just what did that mean?” I say indignantly. “She says it every single time I see her.”

“Good job you’re better with paperwork than you are at life, Mikhail,” Mr Turner says. Then he follows the trail of Marlena’s perfume out of the library.

Chapter Five

Charlie

It’s rainy and cold the next morning as we wait to cross the busy road leading to the private car park where Misha keeps his car. I shift my weekend bag from one hand to the other and look at Misha. He’s wearing grey-green chinos and a white T-shirt peeks from under the hem of a grey jumper. His old motorcycle jacket completes the outfit. It’s a casual look, but he looks as put together and expensive as ever. As opposed to me. I’m wearing jeans and an old black jumper which I’m sure is a lovely complement to the dark shadows under my eyes.

I’m so tired I could lie down on the wet pavement and go to sleep, and I don’t know why because I was in bed and asleep by nine o’clock last night. A big patch of skin over my side is also hurting. It’s likely a bruise I got during my last turn.

“Charlie?” I’m not sure how many times Misha has said my name, but from the exasperation in his voice, it’s obviously more than once. I give him an apologetic glance and he says, “You’re a bloody space cadet this morning. The lights are on green.”