Fortunately Federico had charged in at about 7:00 A.M., his immaculate suit creased, and while Carmen was initially about to give him a sniffy look, surrounded as she was by his slumbering children, she couldn’t help but melt a little at his face as he went in to Sofia.

What passed between them Carmen was never a party to, but by the time she brought some fresh tea and the amazing nurse had somehow conjured up some toast for Sofia—the best food, Sofia insisted, she’d ever tasted—and gently knocked on the door of the recovery room, they were both sitting on the bed, buried in each other and staring, hypnotized, at the rather plump, red screwed-up features of their new baby.

There was a commotion behind her as, roused from their sleep and pursued by their grandmother, Phoebe, Jack, and Pippa were standing outside the door, not sure whether they could enter.

“Come on in then, you lot!” said Sofia, and Carmen stood back as the door opened widely and the children flooded in. Sofia made a special gesture to Phoebe, beckoning her toward her, and, when she got the child within hugging distance, pulled her close and whispered in her ear. Phoebe immediately perked up in surprised happiness, and Carmen saw her whisper “Really?” to her mother, who nodded emphatically. Phoebe beamed in a way Carmen hadn’t seen before. Sofia nodded toward Carmen. “She told me,” she said quite loudly, and Phoebe came over and flung her arms around her aunt.

“You,” said Carmen, bending down, “are going to be the greatest big sister ever. Do you want to meet him?”

“John!” Jack was shouting. “James! Jacob! Joseph!”

“Well, I haven’t decided,” said Sofia. “I’m not sure it should be a ‘J’ name. We’re always getting the ‘Ps’ mixed up.”

“But I thought you liked things nice and symmetrical,” said Carmen, smiling.

Sofia gazed down at the newborn. “Well, sometimes you can mix things up a bit too,” she said, and Sofia and Carmen grinned at each other.

“Wow,” said Phoebe. “He looks like a tomato.”

“Phoebe, that is Very Rude,” started Pippa.

“No,” said Sofia firmly. “He does, doesn’t he?”

“Well, call him Tom then,” said Carmen.

“I’m not calling him Tomato d’Angelo,” said Sofia. “Mind you . . .”

They were still amicably bickering as the nurse came to shoo them all out and make way for the wan-faced women lumbering up and down the corridor, waiting for their own babies as the day shift arrived and new life appeared in the world, and everyone acted as if this was perfectly normal.

“Goodness,” said Carmen, yawning as her father drove them back to the house. “I am going to be terrible at work today.”

“Auntie Carmen, you’re not going to work today!” announced Pippa. “You have to come to our school concert because Mummy can’t.”