‘I don’t know,’ said Carmen, and suddenly didn’t want to disappoint anyone.
‘I hope so.’
‘Do your best, love.’
And he threw in a dustpan for free.
They were no good, that was true. They moaned and complained and said they were tired and their hands hurt and she, Carmen, was mean for making them work.
But somehow, gradually, the dust lifted, and the windows got polished – not terribly well – and they tuned the radio to a station that only played Christmas songs, and Carmen vanished at one point and did indeed bring back three of the largest milkshakes anyone had ever seen, which – as Sofia and Skylar had passed her a forbidden food list which included McDonald’s, all fizzy drinks, sweets, sparkling water, fruit juice （bad for teeth apparently） – Carmen considered something of a triumph, at least till Phoebe jolted Pippa and spilt hers and there was a huge fight between the girls and a big mess on the floor.
But it was undeniable that, as they piled the books to the side, things were starting to look better. With everything stacked neatly and a path cleared, for starters, it at least looked like a shop, without maps piled willy-nilly to the sky, and the whining and complaining calmed down as they found more interesting books. Phoebe came up to Carmen.
‘There’s no Christmas books!’ she said. ‘It’s meant to be Christmastime and there’s no Christmas books. This is a stupid shop.’
Carmen was inclined to agree with her.
‘Do you think we should have more Christmas things?’
‘I think you should have nothing but Christmas things,’ said Phoebe. ‘Even if they’re boring grown-up things.’
Carmen thought again of what Mrs Marsh had said. Well, maybe she had a point. And she didn’t know how on earth to sell all this stuff – these old books – otherwise.
‘Okay,’ she said. ‘Guys, every time you find a book that says “Christmas” on it, bring it to me.’
‘What will you give us?’ said Jack instantly.
‘The satisfaction of doing a job well,’ said Carmen, sticking her tongue out at him. ‘Oh, all right. And a marshmallow.’
‘We can’t—’ started Pippa, but was silenced with glares from the others.
‘You should read Christmas books in the shop,’ said Phoebe. ‘Then everyone would come.’
‘That’s … actually not a bad idea,’ said Carmen. ‘Except I’m not very good at reading aloud.’
‘Neither is Phoebe,’ said Pippa in her disconcertingly adult tones. ‘She needs special help at school.’
‘I DO NOT!’
‘She does.’
And Carmen dropped the story-time discussion straightaway, but she rather liked the idea nonetheless.
By the end of the afternoon （it was already growing dark at 3.30 p.m.） the shop was looking, if not gleaming, markedly better and tidier. They had taken Carmen’s advice to drag out any Christmassy-looking titles incredibly seriously. And in fact, due to Mr McCredie’s completely obscure filing system, to the left of rabbits and upwind of knights and just above shipping, they hit gold: an entire section of the stacks devoted to Christmas titles – ancient stories Carmen had never heard of, like Jolly Jill Saves Christmas!
It was like finding treasure. They wiped them all down carefully and put them in the front window with a flourish. Coming out to examine their handiwork, it still looked – well, lame, frankly, compared with the other glorious lit-up beacons up and down the street.
But it looked like a shop.
When they arrived home, the feeling of solidarity with the tired, grubby children didn’t last terribly long. Sofia tried to be gracious and say thank you but patently couldn’t really hide her disapproval at the state of them and she found herself making lots of remarks about bassoon practice and homework and caught herself at it. Oh God, when had she turned into such a nag? She had frittered her afternoon away: social media, then fallen asleep on the sofa, waking up groggy and with a headache she couldn’t take anything for. This point of pregnancy was just so exhausting and the amount of time Skylar seemed to need for ‘personal self-care’， lectures, yoga, massage therapy, having her aura read was increasing all the time. She did need Carmen. Even if they were absolutely mucky.