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Charlotte grinned. ‘I ought to be writing all this down.’

‘If you need a pen and paper … oh, right. Sorry.’

Charlotte couldn’t help but find his awkwardness charming. He looked like he didn’t spend much time talking to people, even though he worked in the tearoom. Sometimes the children could be like that. They were fine when they were doing a task, but when you asked them a question about something unexpected, they would clam up.

‘There are currently nineteen children here,’ Jacob said. ‘Nine boys and ten girls. The youngest is five. The oldest is fourteen.’

They had reached the entrance to a common room. Some children were watching TV; others were doing homework at a long bench table. Three younger kids were playing with Lego in a corner. The room was comfortable, throw rugs over a functional office carpet, a few posters on the walls for Disney films and local events. One little boy looked up from a book he was reading and let out a gasp.

‘Oh my God. Ms. Harding’s here.’

‘Hello, Johnson.’

‘No!’ He hid his face behind his book.

Michaella, the other child from her class, peered at her from a doorway across the room, giving her a shy smile. Both were good kids, Johnson a little boisterous but not out of control. Michaella didn’t mix well with other kids, and was happiest when she was scribbling in a notebook. Charlotte gave her a wave, then greeted some other kids whom Jacob introduced. He led her deeper into the building, pointing out a couple of bedrooms and offices, and was giving her an overview of the utility room when Lisa reappeared and suggested he make Charlotte a coffee.

‘Oh, sure. Sorry.’

She followed him into a small staff kitchen where he put a kettle on to boil.

‘How long have you been coming here?’ she asked as he arranged two mugs, seemingly looking everywhere but at her.

‘A couple of years,’ he said. ‘I didn’t have much to do in the evenings, so I thought I’d help out a bit. I just do this and that. Nothing much really. Play games with the kids, help with their homework. Tidy up, or sometimes help with the cooking. What … um … made you decide to come down?’

‘It was my grandmother’s idea. She thought I wasn’t getting out enough. I mean, I go out on weekends sometimes, but I used to just stay home in the evenings, watch the telly, you know?’

‘Right.’

‘But then she died last week, and it was just me and her dog.’

‘There’s no one else?’

Charlotte lifted an eyebrow. ‘You mean like a lodger or something?’

‘Ah, right. That’s it. A lodger.’

‘No, our house is much too small for that.’

The kettle had boiled. Jacob, his hand visibly shaking, filled two cups with water.

‘Do you take, um … milk?’

Charlotte grinned. ‘Yes. Just a dash. Not a full carton.’ She peered into the cups and gave a little chuckle. ‘And I take coffee too.’

‘Oh, God.’ Jacob set the kettle down and scrambled in a cupboard, fingers emerging with half a jar of Nescafé. Sweat was streaming down his face despite the chill in the room. ‘There, that’s better,’ he said, looking up.

‘Don’t spill the milk,’ Charlotte said, meaning it as a joke, but Jacob let out a choking laugh and almost did so anyway. He looked relieved to be able to put it back into the fridge without spilling it, then pointed at Charlotte’s cup rather than handing it to her. She lifted it and took a little sip; for the attention he had given its creation, it tasted pretty good.

The coffee seemed to have a calming effect on Jacob. He took a sip, closed his eyes for a moment, then let out a long sigh.

‘Welcome,’ he said. ‘I don’t think I said that before. We’re very happy that you’re here. It’s tough to find volunteers, especially in the run up to Christmas. It’s such a special time of year, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, it is.’

‘Making sure Father Christmas comes to all these kids, it’s not easy.’

‘Oh, he will,’ Charlotte said. ‘If they’ve been good, of course he will.’