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‘Couldn’t resist edging closer to gossip central, more like,’ Daniel teased. ‘No doubt you’ve seen the elf on the loose. What news?’

‘Gosh, nothing,’ said Catherine, looking disappointed. ‘I was so hoping to see him. But by the time I’d grabbed my leather gilet and hurried out with my box, he’d darted off. He’s a tough man to pin down.’

‘Never mind,’ Noémi sing-songed. She could almost feel sorry for him, with a street full of voyeurs on his case. ‘Anyway. The brainwave?’

‘You mentioned offering themed book boxes,’ said Catherine, tapping her temple. ‘You’ll need other items for your boxes – and we have a whole shop full. I mean, you could come and take your pick, with no need to pay until you sell your boxes. But I’ve brought a few Christmas-themed ideas. Then you can take photos and get them onto your website. So much fun!’

Catherine whipped open her box. The idea had sounded promising – even if Noémi’s head was starting to spin at the extra logistics. But when she caught an eyeful of clay willies painted like candy canes and a selection of toilet brush Christmas trees, Noémi guessed that if she took up this offer, she’d need to go and select cosier book-themed treats.

‘I’ll give it some thought.’ Noémi could feel her SOB list growing by the minute, and she still hadn’t had a chance to tick anything off yet.

‘Did I hear you’re looking for ideas to boost sales?’ came another voice from the front of the shop as the bell chimed again.

Noémi felt like the walls were closing in.

‘We’re back heeeeere,’ Barbara trilled. ‘Sounds like Prisha. Hope she’s not carting a hefty box with that bump of hers.’

Prisha’s baby was due in the new year, but with the rate her little charge was growing, unofficial bets said she’d be giving birth before Christmas.

‘Who’s the man dressed as the elf?’

Noémi loved Prisha, but if she ever heard another word about elf tights, it would be too soon. Thankfully, Prisha was the least likely to be assessing his thigh muscles, as she was head over heels for her hubby Tanveer and doted on her young twin boys.

Prisha’s beautiful face popped up between Barbara’s and Catherine’s, her big brown animated eyes always reminding Noémi of Jasmine, her favourite Disney princess.

‘I saw him carrying something long and large,’ Prisha whispered, as though their pointy-eared neighbour might hear. ‘Maybe a shop sign? Though it was all covered up. He had it balanced on his hard hat. I’m amazed he didn’t take someone out.’

‘I’m surprised Carrie wasn’t out there, having a word about elf and safety,’ said Daniel.

Noémi clapped a hand to her forehead. He did not just lower himself to the elf and safety joke. He should have more elf-respect.

‘Carrie did try and catch him,’ Prisha said, her voice still carrying the Brummie accent of her birthplace. ‘But she didn’t manage. Though she did ask me to get my thinking cap on.’ She beamed at Noémi. ‘You need something that makes your bookshop unique. When I wanted Oh Sew Special to take off, I spread a story that I sew good luck wishes into the hems, and that they always come true. May or may not be accurate.’ She winked. ‘But soon enough, people were buzzing about it. I had minor celebrities clamouring for bespoke sarees and sequin blazers. And if you can get The Cotswold Juice talking, all the better.’

Noémi had vaguely heard of the online gossip magazine, and they’d run a popular story on her Christmas cookies once. But she wasn’t big on being juiced. ‘I’ll give it some thought.’

Noémi blew out a sigh that caused her fringe to flutter and sank down amid her piles of books. If only she could get on with the doing, even if a huge part of her wanted to hide under a blanket with a book.

‘Shall we leave you to it?’ Prisha asked gently.

‘We didn’t mean to bombard you,’ Catherine added.

‘No, it’s not you,’ said Noémi. ‘It’s me. I am grateful, honestly. There’s just a lot to consider. I’m so used to everything being exactly like it is.’ She didn’t quite know how to explain that the more ideas she had, the more she felt like she was sinking.

Embrace your inner Nancy. Save your Wild Cat Island. She remembered Fantasy Man’s words and hauled herself to her feet. ‘Thank you for the ideas and the items. I’ll dig out the good camera.’

‘And just remember,’ said Barbara. ‘We’re selling hopes, happy memories, and dreams. Your mother made this place magical, and you will too. We believe in you.’

It was a good job Noémi always kept a tissue tucked under her bra strap because tears were threatening to spill by the time she was waving off her shop friends. It was touching that they had faith in her, but it still felt like a lot. But it was just one job at a time, wasn’t it? Nobody could ever ask more of a person than that.

She and Daniel spent the rest of the afternoon sorting out piles of books, realizing they had more variety than they’d remembered, and rearranging things into more user-friendly sections. Daniel even shared videos of their shop overhaul on social media. Their small number of followers enjoyed it – although seven likes and a few comments about Daniel’s designer waistcoat wouldn’t save the day.

Though if Noémi had been waiting for a rocket to fuel her motivation, it was about to come.

As Daniel stepped into the street, ready to make the short walk back to his cottage, Noémi couldn’t miss his double-take at the shop next door. They’d heard banging that afternoon, but they’d been busy in the rabbit warren of bookshelves. From the surprised look on Daniel’s face, she now wondered what Santa’s unlikely helper had been up to. She snatched her Coat of Many Books from the coat rack and followed Daniel into the street.

What on earth …?

Noémi’s face dropped as she took in the shop sign on the building next door. Was this an act of combat? A declaration that her new stripey-tight-wearing neighbour was pitting himself directly against her? And if so, why? She’d never even met him, that she knew of – though it was hard to tell, seeing as she’d never seen him dressed as a human from the twenty-first century.