There was a collective groan.

“Not much point in Phoebe going then,” said Jack, sniggering. Phoebe would have kicked him but was worried Carmen might change her mind if she did.

IT WAS LOUD. Very loud. There was screaming music, all different, on each ride, and every mulled wine stall and the many bars had live music. There were also doughnut and candyfloss and fudge stalls and everything was quite terrifying. Phoebe point-blank refused to go on the little train, which Carmen had rather liked the look of, because it was for babies, so Carmen ended up accompanying her on some terrifying thing that started off quite tame, then spun them around perpendicular to the ground, Phoebe pale white with fright, tears streaking down her cheeks. She had a full-blown meltdown when Carmen stalled at the rifle range (everything was indeed extortionately expensive), and there was a massive cacophonous row over who was making the Ferris wheel compartment wobble.

Which was a shame, as up there, next to the great dark Scott Monument, slowly lifting higher and higher, Carmen felt her own heart lift. The city, dark and exciting, full of people and movement, spread out at their feet with the lights of the fair, the great lit-up Christmas tree on the Mound ahead, the twinkling stars closer up here, the biting cold air, and the feeling of Christmas right around the corner—less than two weeks to go now, as the children informed her daily, counting down every second.

It was exciting. That was, until Phoebe dropped a glove through the narrow railings and almost went after it, causing Carmen to yell at her, something she had never ever done, and causing Phoebe in turn to have another fit, which, once back on the ground, Carmen tried to assuage with extraordinarily expensive hot chocolates that cost extra for whipped cream and marshmallows. Then Phoebe spilled hers and insisted that Jack had done it, and finally Carmen began to see Sofia’s point.

“Come on,” she prodded them. “Let’s go to the Christmas tree maze!”

She cleaned Phoebe up carefully.

“You’ll be fine. Take my glove.”

Phoebe did so, sniffing valiantly and wiping her nose on it. It really was bitingly cold; Carmen stuffed her hand quickly back in her pocket and took a large restorative swig of the extremely pricey mulled wine she’d set down on a wall.

“Come on then! Let’s go! Everyone take my hand or grab my coat or something.”

“No way!” said Jack, who had seen a friend of his in the crush and was nodding to him, mano a mano style.

“Okay. Well, don’t get lost.”

“I think actually getting lost is what you’re meant to do in a maze,” pointed out Pippa.

“You’re right.” Carmen smiled. “Gold star to you.”