I didn’t think it was very likely that someone would buy a Christmas decoration with a random child’s photo in it but I wasn’t taking any chances. My class had put in a lot of effort to create their bespoke baubles and I didn’t want any of them to go missing.

‘I’ll take his now if that’s all right?’ said Beamish, easily transferring the girl from one arm to the other as he reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a rather crumpled five-pound note. ‘Peter’s going home early,’ he added.

‘Is he?’ I frowned. I couldn’t remember hearing anything about a doctor or dentists’ appointment.

‘He’s in the medical room with his mum and Mrs Newton,’ Beamish explained. ‘He’s been sick.’

‘He seemed fine earlier,’ I said, swapping the money for Peter’s bounty.

‘Too many sweets!’ said the girl with relish.

‘This is Isobel,’ said Beamish, jiggling her about a bit. ‘Peter’s sister.’

‘Mummy’s had to leave work so she picked me up from nursery first and then we came to get Peter. She’s not very happy.’ Isobel pouted.

‘I’ll bet,’ I said.

I was tempted to give her another bag of biscuits, but given the circumstances, thought better of it.

‘Beamish plays rugby with my dad,’ she told me seriously.

‘Does he?’

‘Yes, and sometimes he goes to the pub with him as well.’

I wasn’t sure why she felt the need to tell me that.

‘And when they come back a bit wobbly, Mummy always says . . .’

‘Right,’ said Beamish as I started to laugh, ‘let’s go and find her, shall we? I’ll see you later, Hattie.’

At the end of the afternoon, after the children had all safely gone home, there wasn’t an awful lot of tidying up left to do and there was very little left which hadn’t been sold.

‘Anyone recognise these?’ shouted Rose holding aloft a pair of brightly knitted gloves as we dismantled and tidied. ‘They were on the floor near where the Bees class were set up.’

Mrs Anderson, the receptionist, wandered over for a closer look.

‘Sutton’s,’ she said, ‘the youngest boy. He was in the pushchair when they arrived and he was wearing these. His sister, Emily, is in Bees, you could send them home with her on Monday or I could keep them in the office. Her mother’s bound to ask.’

‘How did she know that?’ I whispered to Rose after Mrs Anderson had gone back to reception, taking the gloves with her. ‘How could she possibly know?’

‘She knows everything,’ giggled Rose. ‘I once found a milk tooth in an unmarked envelope in the music room. It was in a tambourine. I took it to reception and she knew who it belonged to.’

‘She never did!’