The Christmas Bookshop(38)

‘It’s pie,’ said Carmen. ‘You’ll like it, won’t you, Phoebs?’

Phoebe looked upset although Carmen had no idea why.

‘I don’t think so,’ she sniffed.

‘Good, good.’

‘Bring some here,’ said Sofia. ‘I am starved.’

‘BUT IS IT GOING TO SNOW?’ said Jack loudly. Sometimes being the only boy in the house was quite tricky.

‘I don’t know, darling,’ said his mother, tousling his hair and glancing out the back window, but it was pitch-black, only the lights of other houses dimly visible above the back wall.

‘Oh, Mr McCredie thinks it is,’ said Carmen. ‘He said tonight will be bad and tomorrow will be beyond imagining.’

Phoebe frowned.

‘I can imagine a lot of things.’

‘Well, imagine lots of snow and it might happen!’



It wasn’t the boom that woke Carmen up. It was a pair of feet more or less in her face in the narrow bed.

‘WHAAA—?’ she said, starting awake in a panic, then realising through her foggy brain that if it was a murderous rapist, they were very much going about it in completely the wrong way. She had been on the train again, the tiny dusty train, the woman in her hat, the tunnel coming closer, closer …

She glanced at the toes wriggling frantically two centimetres from her nose.

‘Phoebe? Is that you?’

Under the blankets came a tiny eep.

‘What on earth is the matter?’

The little body was shaking.

‘At least turn the right way up.’

There it was then: a boom, and the little body went rigid. Carmen leaned out and switched on her bedside lamp which did almost nothing except make the rest of the dark room even darker. There was something odd about the light, something soft about the noise, but the boom …

‘What was that?’

Slowly, like trying to tempt an animal out of its burrow, Carmen stroked Phoebe’s back and gradually persuaded the child to turn the right way up.

‘You’ll suffocate down there,’ she said, as Phoebe’s stubborn black eyes and shock of messy hair finally emerged over the tip of the duvet. Phoebe didn’t smile. She was whispering.

‘It’s the … thundersnow!’ she imparted.

‘Oh, of course it is! said Carmen. ‘Amazing!’ She frowned. ‘I thought you’d have gone to Skylar.’

Phoebe shook her head.

‘Skylar says “sleep heen” is very important.’

‘Sleep heen?’

‘Yes. Never disturb someone’s sleep. It is very important. To be CLEAN.’

‘Sleep hygiene?’ said Carmen waking up slowly.

‘Oh yes. Anyway. It’s scary.’

‘Oh no, I’m sure it’s not,’ said Carmen, swinging out of bed and wincing. She wished she knew why Sofia thought keeping your bedrooms warm was common. The polished wood beneath her feet was like ice.

‘Don’t go!’

‘Come on, I’ll just take a look … ’

Phoebe pushed herself back under the duvet, hunched over with her head over her knees. Carmen vowed that she was going to overcome her lifelong hatred of slippers – she had an unnatural aversion to sheepskin – otherwise she was going to get chilblains.

You couldn’t see anything from down here in the basement, but the world outside was in a deadly hush, the window absolutely freezing to the touch, and Carmen felt a rush of excitement.

‘Come on,’ she said. It was just before 5 a.m. Phoebe shook her head severely. ‘Just … come and have a look. A quick one. How about we bring the duvet with us?’

Phoebe looked worried so, in the end, Carmen half picked up the trembling girl along with the duvet and took them both up the stairs to the kitchen, which still had vestigial warmth from dinner, and the back window that looked over the little garden.

Snowflakes danced and swirled against the pane, so dense it was as if the house was surrounded by a thick moving blanket. Thunder shook the house, which made Phoebe jump, but Carmen just hugged her closer with the duvet around them both. It was oddly comforting to feel the little warm body close to her, willingly coming in for a cuddle.

The silence was unusual; they were in the middle of a city, just off a busy thoroughfare. Normally there were ambulances screaming, bin lorries beeping as they backed up, taxis honking and late night party groups laughing and squealing.

Now, here it was as if they were the only people in the universe as the dancing silent huge flakes of snow whirled in their intricate patterns; so common and so very, very extraordinary.

‘Oh!’ said Phoebe.

Some footsteps skittered along the flagstones behind them. As soon as Jack realised they had a duvet with them, he nodded and dashed back upstairs quietly, coming down with his own, covered in tasteful embroidered wooden cars, rather than the Hibernian Football Club logos his little heart desired above all else.

Silently, he moved next to Phoebe and instead of pushing and shoving him with her sharp elbows like she normally would, she budged up to make space for him to press his elbows on the cold window sill and stare up into the sky, so dizzy with flakes you couldn’t tell if you were looking up or down; it made your brain turn somersaults.

Jack, normally such a jumping bean, was stock-still in awe at it, pointing occasionally with Phoebe as the shed became completely engulfed, or a flash of lightning suddenly showed them their faces reflected in the window glass and they all jumped. To Carmen’s immense relief, Phoebe started to laugh when they realised they’d been scared by their own faces.