The Christmas Bookshop(89)

‘It is about a baby,’ said Phoebe thoughtfully.

‘Well, there you go. Make it his song. I’ve heard you singing with the record. Just do that.’

To her disappointment, Skylar hadn’t been in when they’d all got home. Carmen wanted to be there when Sofia fired her. Then she wanted to call her back and tell her she was rehired, then fire her herself. It was astonishing how much the fire burned in her. She could handle Skylar making snide remarks to her, and for taking the chap she liked, or thought she’d liked. But as soon as she came for one of her family? No way, matey.

The other mums came up and gathered round, asking about the baby and names, and were full of praise and attention for Phoebe as the newly minted big sister, and Carmen had to wonder really what she had spent all those years sneering at Sofia’s friends for.

She found, too, how desperate she was to tell Oke. He had, she knew, a lot of strong opinions about babies. She had spent a good twenty minutes that morning just staring at baby Tom/ Finn/James/Albert/Captain America (they weren’t quite there yet on names), contemplating his starfish toes and his eyes, a mystical colour between the sky and the sea, and thinking that he was quite impossible to name, and that Oke had quite possibly been right – not about most babies, but this baby – that this baby knew every secret of the universe, and was love, uncomplicated, clear as crystal, under every frosted star. How strange that he understood already something she hadn’t.

She shook her head and went forward to meet Phoebe’s nice teacher, then was ushered into the primary school concert hall, a room that, she couldn’t help but notice, was nicer than the school she and Sofia had attended. She took out her phone as she had been informed she had to tape all three classes of the children whether it was forbidden or not.

The children marched in in total silence and perfectly regimented lines; it was partly impressive and partly quite frightening. The parents sat up attentively, but only Carmen, not realising the etiquette, waved frantically to Phoebe as she passed. Phoebe didn’t dare lift her hand, but smiled to herself nonetheless.

There were then the adorable nativity antics of the smaller classes, during which, it being rather warm and cosy in the hall, Carmen, who had had almost no sleep, started to drift off. She sat up with a start when the primary fours were announced, fumbling for her phone. There was a little skit about dancing babies which she didn’t quite get, then the blonde girl stepped forward and looked anxiously at the music teacher at the piano, who nodded her cue.

‘Little Jesus sweetly sleep,’ she started. ‘Do not stir. We will lend a coat of fur.’

And then the rest of the class joined in, their sweet high voices soft and in unison: ‘We will rock you … rock you … rock you … ’

To Carmen’s amazement – she wasn’t quite sure she was hearing right – there was one voice which soared above the others, strong and rich, singing loudly and sweetly over the top of the other children. She glanced towards Phoebe, who was staring straight out into the audience, so that she could hopefully spot her aunt across the lights. Clear as day, it was Phoebe singing. Carmen didn’t even know if she knew she was doing it; she was simply immersed in making music.

The music teacher was gesticulating wildly and at first Carmen thought she was trying to stop Phoebe, but then she realised she wanted her niece to come forwards to join Calintha for the next verse. Timidly, Phoebe stepped forwards as Calintha started: ‘Mary’s little baby sleep, sweetly sleep … sleep in comfort, slumber deep.’

Calintha’s voice sounded like she was trying to play Annie in the West End, the result of many expensive singing lessons. Phoebe’s came across straight, sweet and true, right from the heart. The hall was silent as the rest of the children joined in again.

‘We will rock you, rock you, rock you … ’

And once again, Phoebe’s voice, soaring over the rest in counterpoint. Carmen was thinking it was because of how tired she was, and her love for her niece, that there were tears running down her face. But when she glanced around, she saw that she wasn’t alone; not even nearly.

Of course Pippa’s bassoon solo was very nice, and Jack performed Jack things with his natural energy. But it was undoubtedly Phoebe’s day and the smile she beamed at Carmen told her everything, who opened her arms wide to greet her afterwards.



It was still relatively early when she got back to Mr McCredie’s, and Carmen quickly joined clearing the queues of people with a smile, telling Mr McCredie about the new baby. He was delighted and she vowed to bring him in as soon as possible.

‘Oh, and your chap popped in,’ he said.

‘Who?’ she said, glancing at him nervously.

‘Oh, a man came in to sign some books … ’

‘Blair?’

‘Yes.’

‘Oh,’ she said, completely crestfallen. For a moment, just a moment, she had thought he meant Oke, the only person she wanted to see. ‘Yeah, he’s off to London. Or LA or something, who cares?’

Mr McCredie smiled.

‘Oh, and the dendrologist too.’

She stopped serving as a man in a kilt with a large beard patiently waited his turn – it was warmer on his knees in the shop than it was out.

‘Oke came here?’

‘He did.’

‘He was in here … Did he buy a book?’