“I’m doing it right now,” said Phoebe defiantly. “I’m being thankful for my sponge.”

“That’s right,” said Skylar, beaming. “Cleanliness is so good for the soul, don’t you think, Carmen? And thankfulness of course.”

She served up a dish of gloopy oats, which had been soaked overnight.

“Come on, everyone.”

“Actually,” said Carmen, thinking of the tray of warmed croissants the coffee shop normally had ready about now, “I’m going to eat on the way. But it looks great. Bye, everyone.”

Sofia, tearful and exhausted as she was, was at least finally on maternity leave. It wasn’t technically due to start for another week—two weeks before the baby was due—but she’d gotten stuck in a lift and everyone agreed it was for the best, being unusually cautious even by lawyer standards. She had been furious about it but eventually capitulated. Carmen had looked up and said in a conciliatory tone, “Sofe, are you going to have the baby today?”

“I’m going to admire my gingerbread house,” Sofia had responded.

They all regarded it. It was rather cool now that it had been entirely dismantled and done again properly.

“But if you can’t eat it, what is the point?” Jack still moaned.

“Jack,” said Carmen in a warning tone, and he piped down immediately. Sofia looked at Carmen suspiciously. What she didn’t know was that Carmen had been back to Poundworld and bought three advent calendars with chocolates in them and the children had been stashing them under their mattresses.

“I am going to lie down and read magazines today,” said Sofia from the depths of the big sofa.

“Actually, I found this really great pregnancy yoga app I was thinking we should try out together?” said Skylar.

“I think I am too tired for school and will stay on the sofa with Mummy to keep her company,” said Phoebe.

“No, you won’t, Phoebe,” said Pippa straightaway. “Mummy won’t want you to do that.”

“You want me on the sofa, don’t you, Mummy?” started up Phoebe, and Carmen had happily escaped into the chilly air, the snow still thick on the ground, shaking her dream of trains and tunnels from her head.

BACK IN THE present, Mrs. McGeoghan was a regular, and something of a pest, and she was now dealing with Carmen’s refusal to turn the bookshop into a lending library by standing at the side of the bookshelves and reading the entire book in full view of other customers. Carmen was doing her best not to acknowledge it, but she couldn’t help keeping an eye on her. If she folded over a corner, she was going to go for her. Or licked her fingers when she turned over a page.

“Then I’m going to do her,” she whispered to Mr. McCredie.

“Now, now,” said Mr. McCredie. “She doesn’t mean any harm.”