Frederick had Florence in his arms and was holding hands with Gigi as the two boys ran behind them, stopping every few seconds to give each other a shove. ‘Milo! Jack! I said, NOW!’ Frederick hissed at them.

‘Mama!’ Gigi let go of Frederick’s hand and came running to me. She clung to my leg as Frederick looked at me, shaking his head. His hair was dishevelled. His eyes wild.

‘What took you so long?’

‘They all needed a wee. All of them. Have you ever tried taking four two-year-olds to the loo? It was a fucking disaster zone. The loos are blocked. I just . . . And then I nearly lost one. He ran off and I couldn’t remember what the little shit looked like. Do you know how many kids here are wearing Spiderman T-shirts? I grabbed the wrong bloody one, which led to screaming and an awkward conversation with his mother.’

‘It’s OK, Frederick, calm down. You made it. The puppet show’s about to begin.’

He took a few deep breaths. ‘I’m fine. I’m going to be fine.’ He smoothed a hand over his hair.

Frederick put Florence down on the floor and we ushered the four of them into the room.

‘Go sit with your friends,’ I said to Gigi and pointed towards Yvonne and the rest of her class. They were all sitting cross-legged in a line in front of the makeshift cave stage.

Prehistoric Pete announced his arrival with a wolf howl. We all turned to see a hairy, rotund man in a shaggy black wig, wearing an indeterminable furry animal skin and brandishing a club, come lunging into the room. ‘Hellllooooooo, children,’ he said in a deep voice. ‘Me Pete. Me like puppets. You want show?’

The children remained quiet, not quite sure what to make of him.

‘Yes!’ called out a couple of teachers and parents; they were clearly feeling charitable to the grown man being left hanging by a bunch of toddlers.

Frederick leaned towards me. ‘Did you manage to fit the box?’

I nodded. ‘Once the puppet show is over we need to test the range.’

As Pete busied himself climbing into his cave with more howls and pulling out his mammoth and saber-toothed tiger hand puppets, I talked Frederick through the status of the library.

Frederick shook his head. ‘It’s not a good sign for how tight security will be tomorrow night.’

Pete went into a brief stilted monologue about the mammoth and tiger’s eating habits. The children conveyed their lack of interest the only way they knew how, with fidgeting and loud stage whispers of ‘want snackkkk’.

‘Arghhhh, you no hurt me, we friends!’ shouted Prehistoric Pete as the mammoth and tiger puppets went for his neck. He kept hitting himself with them and his cries of pain were rewarded with the magical sound of toddler laughter.