“Morning,” she trilled. “Oh, Carmen, thank you so much for introducing me to your friend Blair! He’s just amazing.”

“Carmen was kissing him!” offered Phoebe.

“I was not!” said Carmen. “They are completely mistaken.”

“Oh, it’s okay,” said Skylar. “I know.”

She smiled beatifically.

“He said he might stop in Edinburgh on his way back from LA! He’s heading to Amsterdam and said he has to stop somewhere! Then he might take me with him.”

Carmen couldn’t help it. That stung. Not because of Blair—he was an idiot. But . . . but . . . It was a little more than sleeping in your sister’s basement and having a temp job.

“Well, that’s nice,” said Carmen, trying to sound pleased for Skylar and not making a particularly good job of it. “Why is there never any blooming white bread in this house?”

“Because it’s poison?” said Skylar. “Anyway, Blair was saying he feels he has a real mission? To travel, even though it’s not wonderful for the environment—he plants ten trees every time he goes anywhere, isn’t that amazing?”

Amazing bollocks, he does, Carmen thought.

“And he says it’s just so important to spread a model of positivity throughout the world, don’t you agree, children?”

“Through kissing?” said Phoebe.

“Well, no,” said Skylar. “Although kindness is always good.”

“Were you very kind to him?” said Carmen, not caring that she’d promised Sofia not to upset Skylar. And it didn’t even matter; it bounced off.

“Oh, I had such a wonderful night,” she said. “What a great day! Come on, everyone! Shall we do our sun salutations before school?”

“There isn’t any sun,” Phoebe pointed out, looking sad as Carmen departed for work.

THE SNOW WASN’T SO magical today. It was slushy and getting tired looking. There were puddles everywhere that were tricky to avoid if, like Carmen, you were staring fiercely at your phone and feeling thick with regrets.

You’d be feeling worse if you’d slept with him, she kept telling herself. Dating someone she didn’t actually like . . . Although that cold hand firm on her back . . . No.

The magic shop several doors down from Mr. McCredie’s was bustling that day, and Carmen paused to glance in. A large woman with very long orange hair popped her head out. “Hello!” she boomed. “You’re young Mr. McCredie’s girl, aren’t you?”

Carmen nodded.

“Quite the difference you’re making up there. Now I’ve told him, but he never listens. You must come to our party on Saturday!”

“You’re having a party too?”

“Of course. All the shops on this street have one. Except for yours, of course. You should change that.”