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There was no need for the ding dong, as the shop’s door had an old-fashioned bell that would do that for you. But that was Barbara. Noémi heard her voice echoing through the shop, followed by the shop’s front door closing with a ding dong boom. There was nobody quite like Barbara for making an entrance. She might look like butter wouldn’t melt – short, sensible grey hair, neat apron. Though when she spoke, her past life as a drama teacher entered stage left, and there was no mistaking her.

‘I’ve brought props,’ Barbara shrilled.

Props?

She ran Barbara’s Bits & Bobs, which is what Noémi’s mum would have called une brocante, but most people might call a flea shop. It was a treasure trove of the most curious things you never knew you needed, but once you’d seen them, you couldn’t live without. Noémi adored it.

‘She’s holed up somewhere in the labyrinth,’ she heard Daniel say.

‘And I’ve come to gather gossip,’ Barbara added. ‘The man in the elf costume. Tell me what you know.’

Chapter 7

Noémi groaned as she heard Barbara and Daniel making their way towards her, tattling and wildly speculating about tights.

‘He’s definitely moving in next door to you,’ Barbara confirmed, arriving in the aisle where Noémi was all but burying herself in books.

Great.

Her shop owner friend’s apron had cute holly patterns on it today, and she didn’t look at all ropey, considering the mulled cider rumours.

Barbara dropped a huge box – as if Noémi didn’t have enough clutter to contend with. ‘I’d been hoping to collar him and get the lowdown, but he’s disappeared. No sign of what his business will be, though he’s been carting stuff in. The whole street is awash with excitement.’

Clearly it was a quiet month for news. Noémi could just imagine them all, pretending to be passing while they peered through his windows. That was no doubt why Barbara had arrived with a random box.

‘Noémi and I literally fell over this morning with the thrill of it.’ Daniel grabbed a book and fanned himself, which was not what paperbacks were made for.

‘That was nothing more than a vigorous cleaning incident,’ Noémi clarified.

‘The only thing that needs cleaning is her mind,’ Daniel stage-whispered. ‘You should have seen the way she was ogling his …’

‘Props!’ Noémi said quickly, pointing to the box Barbara had brought. ‘Tell us what they’re for.’

‘Well, Carrie dropped into the shop with a bottle of Irn-Bru – allegedly Scotland’s finest hangover cure – though I do not have a hangover …’

‘The props,’ Noémi repeated, more insistently.

‘A compass, an old treasure map, a pair of spectacles, a bowl of fake peaches – strangely fuzzy – an old-fashioned typewriter, artificial flowers – apologies for the moth holes – a handful of seashells, and a slightly smelly stuffed badger.’ Barbara scratched her nearly tonged head. ‘And probably some other things.’

‘A slightly smelly stuffed badger?’ Noémi pulled a face. ‘You’ve lost me.’

‘Yes, he’s a little left field. But Carrie said you’ll be selling books online, so I brought these to make your photos pop. A set of adventure stories pictured with a compass and map. Maybe the spectacles for a Poirot and the shells for your lovely beach reads.’

‘We have Christmas decorations to sparkle up photos of Christmas novels,’ said Daniel. ‘And doesn’t The Wind in the Willows have a badger?’

Not a dead, smelly one, Noémi thought. Not that she wasn’t grateful – and the idea wasn’t terrible. Though she barely knew where to start with her growing book mountains, without adding taxidermy and moth-eaten fake hydrangeas to her problems. But she gave Barbara her best ‘thank you’ because she didn’t want to be a grumpy tit.

‘Borrow them for as long as you like,’ said Barbara, with a flourish.

Well, that was kind.

‘Hello!’ The shop’s bell tinkled again. ‘Anybody in? I’ve got a box for you.’

It was Crochet Catherine’s voice. Noémi tried not to sigh. Catherine was lovely, but Noémi had already spent half of her Monday morning gossiping, and now she really needed to get on and save her shop – preferably without any more deliveries of stuffed omnivores.

‘Back here,’ Noémi shouted.

‘I had a brainwave,’ said Catherine, arriving next to Barbara and placing down her box. ‘And I couldn’t resist popping over.’