Carmen kissed Sofia’s sweating face briefly and dove back into the waiting room. Jack was fast asleep in a corner. Pippa was reading a book about reptiles and amphibians and taking notes. Phoebe was curled up on a chair in the corner. Carmen thanked the nurse and took over. As she sat next to the little girl, whose hair clumped frowsed all around her face, with the buttons on her nightgown done up wrongly, she saw she was crying.

“Phoebs,” whispered Carmen. “What’s the matter?”

They both shot a glance at Pippa, but she was across the room in front of the television, engrossed in what she was doing.

“The new baby is coming,” said Phoebe.

“It is.”

Carmen took her onto her lap. She was a comfortable weighty feeling, and Carmen cradled her quite naturally. It was nice.

“Everyone is going to love the new baby.”

“They are,” said Carmen. “But they won’t stop loving you.”

“How do you know?”

Carmen thought about it. “Well,” she said, “I’m the littlest too. And when I came along, do you think Grandma and Grandpa stopped loving Sofia? Your mum?”

Phoebe considered it. “No. But . . .”

“But what?”

“But Mummy was nice.”

“You’re very nice. I like you very much.”

Phoebe sniffed. “But . . .” she said. Her voice went very quiet and her face went very red. “Skylar said I was going to be fat.”

“What?” said Carmen, louder than she’d meant to.

“She said I was going to be fat and ugly and nobody would love me.”

“When?”

“After Halloween. When we had sweeties.” She sniffed. “We were given sweeties! Everyone gets sweeties at Halloween.”

Carmen was so angry she could barely sit still. “She told you that at Halloween? And you’ve been carrying it around for months?”

“I think everyone will love the new baby instead. The new baby won’t be fat.”

Carmen straightened Phoebe up until the child was sitting upright on her knee and turned her around to face her. She looked her straight in the eye. “You,” she said, “are beautiful. And perfect. And funny and smart and completely lovable. And do you know how I know that’s true?”

Phoebe stared straight into her eyes.

“Because,” said Carmen, “I don’t even like children. I never did.”

“Is that why you never sent us presents or came to our birthdays?”

“Absolutely. Couldn’t be doing with children at all.” She paused and leaned in close. “But, Phoebe d’Angelo. My goodness, I like you. In fact, I love you, which is very annoying because it is going to cost me a fortune in presents.”

And she gave the child a huge hug. And whispered in her ear for good measure: “You will never be fat. And even if you were, that is also fine, because you are beautiful to me.”

And Phoebe leaned in and said, “Are you going to buy presents for all the years you missed?”