Oddly, she wasn’t terrified. It hadn’t felt exactly like a nightmare, like the train was going to crash or the tunnel was going to swallow her; she had been frightened but not terrified. And she felt sad, somehow, a deep sadness down inside her somewhere, that she hadn’t understood whatever it was that the woman was trying to tell her.

Chapter Fourteen

The dream faded from her like brushed-off sand as she headed to the bathroom, already aware of Skylar’s performative ohmmmming morning meditation coming from next door, and by the time she had unpacked the book for the Brazilian student—it was huge, very heavy, and dense with diagrams, and not a single line was comprehensible to Carmen in any way—and saw the pleasingly large turnout for the story time, she’d practically forgotten it altogether.

It was Sofia’s doing, of course—she’d gotten on the mums’ WhatsApp group, an extraordinary source of power in Edinburgh society, so the little shop was heaving with buggies and small children looking expectant and absolutely delighted at the train set. Rather too delighted, in fact; Mr. McCredie was hopping from foot to little foot, looking anxious.

“Don’t touch,” said Carmen hopefully, then: “And there are candy canes for after!”

“Yayyy!” went the children.

The mothers made extremely dubious faces.

“But it’s all right, I’ve brought enough satsumas for everyone,” said Sofia with a smile, which made Carmen slightly want to stab her.

She sat down on a little stool, wishing she wasn’t quite so much on view, held up the beautiful glowing picture of a little girl who was wearing very few clothes in the snow—in contrast to the children, who had so many layers of arctic-ready Puffa jackets on, none of them could raise their arms above their heads—and they oohed and aahed agreeably. Carmen began:

“Most terribly cold it was; it snowed, and was nearly quite dark, and evening—the last evening of the year. In this cold and darkness there went along the street a poor little girl, bareheaded, and with naked feet . . .”

She was gratified at the widening eyes and the children edging in closer to hear.

“Naked feet?” said one of the boys.

“It just means bare feet,” said Carmen, as some sniggering started.

“Yes, please be quiet,” said Pippa, and for once Carmen was pleased at the girl’s ability to give everyone a solid telling-off, as she certainly couldn’t have done it—all these blond women were making her feel slightly intimidated as it was.

She carefully led the children through the lighting of the matches—the amazing goose, the wonderful Christmas tree, the angelic grandmother. After the Brazilian student’s fascination, she had dug out a Rackham edition—the child haunted, the Christmas tree a-glistening, the extraordinary apparition—and the children paid rapt attention.