The Christmas Bookshop(47)

‘What?’ she said in a tired voice, opening her eyes again.

‘Oh nothing,’ said Carmen. ‘I was just going to ask you if you’re sure you want another one?’

Sofia made a shooing motion at her and Carmen fled the kitchen.



‘Okay,’ said Carmen in the den, looking in some confusion at the vast array of television options that confronted her. ‘What services have you got?’

It looked like all of them, which was odd, because Sofia was so against the children watching more than about nine seconds of TV a day. This must just be what rich people do, thought Carmen. You just take everything whether you’re going to use it or not. She thought of Blair and his new jacket and ridiculously overpriced wellingtons.

‘Ooh,’ she said, firing up the Disney channel. ‘They’ve got Muppet Christmas Carol! You must have seen that!’

‘Actually it’s “puppets”?’ said Pippa.

‘Not these ones,’ said Carmen. ‘They’re Magnificent Puppets. So. Muppets. Seriously, have you really never heard of the Muppets?’

‘We’ve watched all of David Attenborough,’ said Pippa.

‘Okay. Well. There’s lots of animals in this,’ said Carmen. ‘Mostly chickens though, I seem to remember.’

Phoebe crept forwards with interest to the trailer, which showed lots of frogs and pigs dancing.

‘Ooh,’ she said in delight.

‘I’m just putting something with animals on,’ hollered Carmen through to the kitchen. Sofia made an acquiescent noise.

After setting up the file, Carmen went back into the kitchen.

‘What do you mean, you were jealous of me always getting texts from boys?’ she said, glancing at her phone.

‘It was non-stop! Beep beep beep! For Carmen!’

‘But you had a gorgeous handsome boyfriend who adored you! That’s all I ever wanted.’

‘I was seventeen! said Sofia. ‘I should have been dashing about, having mad affairs with everyone and being scandalous! Duncan was boring as shit!’

‘But you went out with him for years!’

‘God and it felt like it.’

‘You looked so lovely at prom.’

‘I know,’ said Sofia. ‘I hadn’t eaten in three days. I nearly fainted.’

It was the oddest thing. Possibly the physically overloaded condition of Sofia and the new-found bounciness of Carmen was levelling the playing field. Or perhaps they were both tired of the enmity, the competition. Or perhaps, Carmen thought, it was like that World War One Christmas truce, because it was snowy.

‘I couldn’t believe how beautiful you looked in the front room,’ she said now truthfully. ‘You looked like you were going to an amazing fancy ball.’

‘All I did was dance with boring Duncan to Daniel bloody Bedingfield songs. God, it was boring. Not like your prom.’

‘Could we not talk about my prom?’

‘Oh, come on, it was hilarious!’

‘You did not think so at the time! You looked just as disapproving as Mum and Dad! And Mrs Leckie! Oh God.’

‘You climbed up on the roof of the school rollicking drunk and threw tangerines at people.’

‘Only terrible people. And it wasn’t my idea.’

They both laughed.

‘Okay then. Tell me about the mystery texter.’

They both stared at the phone.

‘So Duncan MacInlay really is dull?’ mused Carmen. ‘I mean, is he free now?’

‘You’re getting off the point.’

‘I’m just saying, he was hot.’

‘You’re very welcome to him,’ said Sofia. ‘He’s working at a car showroom in Musselburgh. He sends me updates every time they get a new Ford in.’

‘Not even, like, a Tesla showroom?’

‘Not even, like, a Tesla showroom.’

‘The thing is … ’

Of course Carmen wanted to tell Sofia that Blair was texting her. She wanted to tell everyone, to shout it from the rooftops. Well, almost everyone, she thought. She hadn’t introduced him to Oke when they’d all been in the café. Almost as if he could see through Blair as well as she could.

Anyway. This was silly: she’d be swanking, one, and also it wasn’t like he was actually chatting her up. She was literally the only person he knew when he was trapped in the city. It was tech support, if anything.

But he was now sending her funny little pictures of his new wellingtons, and cute messages and, well, it gave her a little warm feeling inside. That was all. The attention was nice.

‘It’s nothing,’ she said. ‘Just a work thing.’

‘Is it Mr McCredie?’ said Sofia. ‘I didn’t even know he had a phone.’

‘Your client/lawyer confidentiality is rubbish,’ said Carmen. ‘And no, I don’t think he does.’

‘So who can it … ?’

She sat bolt upright, her huge breasts bouncing off the top of her bump.

‘That’s like a party trick,’ observed Carmen.

‘It’s not that writer?’

Carmen couldn’t help it. She pursed her lips.

‘No way. No way. You’re being texted by Blair Pfenning. You’re not. You’re not.’