‘Clever, aren’t they? Annie made those.’

Madame sipped at her chocolate. ‘Perhaps she’s right,’ she said at last. ‘There’s nothing so sad as an empty house.’

The dolls are all made of wooden pegs, carefully coloured and painstakingly dressed. Much time and effort has gone into making them, and I recognize myself in the lady of the house. At least, I recognize Vianne Rocher, her dress made from a scrap of red silk; her long black hair – at Anouk’s request – made from a snip of my own hair, glued on and tied up with a bow.

‘Where’s your doll?’ I asked Anouk later.

‘Oh, I haven’t finished making it yet. But I will,’ she said, looking so earnest that I smiled. ‘I’ll make a doll for everyone. And by Christmas Eve, they’ll all be done, and all the doors in the house will be open, and there’ll be a big party for everyone—’

Ah, I thought. The point emerges.

It’s Rosette’s birthday on the 20th. We’ve never had a party for her. A bad time, and always was, too close to Yule and not far enough away from Les Laveuses. Anouk always mentions it every year, though Rosette doesn’t seem to mind. To Rosette, all days are magical, and a handful of buttons or a piece of scrunched-up silver paper can be every bit as marvellous as the most exquisite of toys.

‘Could we have a party, too, Maman?’

‘Oh, Anouk. You know we can’t.’

‘Why not?’ she said stubbornly.

‘Well, you know, it’s a busy time. And besides, if we’re moving to Rue de la Croix—’

‘Well, duh,’ said Anouk. ‘That’s exactly my point. We shouldn’t just move without saying goodbye. We should have a party on Christmas Eve. For Rosette’s birthday. For our friends. Because you know that as soon as we move into Thierry’s place, everything’s going to be different, and we’ll have to do everything Thierry’s way, and—’

‘That’s not fair, Anouk,’ I said.

‘But it’s true, isn’t it?’

‘Maybe,’ I said.

A party on Christmas Eve, I thought. As if I didn’t have enough to do in the chocolaterie at the very busiest time of the year . . .

‘Well, I’d help, of course,’ said Anouk. ‘I could write out invitations, and plan the menu, and put up the decorations, and I could make a cake for Rosette. You know she likes chocolate orange best. We could make her a cake in the shape of a monkey. Or it could be a fancy dress party, with everyone dressed like animals. And we could have grenadine – and Coke – and chocolate, of course.’

I had to laugh. ‘You’ve thought about this a lot, haven’t you?’

She made a face. ‘Well, maybe a bit.’

I sighed.

Why not? Perhaps it’s time.