Page 29

Noémi checked the mantelpiece clock again. What was taking Daniel so long in dropping the Mrs Claus dress at Prisha’s shop? Knowing him, he’d stopped for a cup of masala chai and was busy appraising saree silks and sequins. Noémi needed to get to The Kooky Craft Emporium to source more items for her Christmas book and gift boxes, because to her absolute relief, they’d sold a few online. Once they worked out how to get more customers through the door, she hoped to sell them in the shop too.

Her eyes flitted to Felix, who was settling Mrs Jingleman into a chair to read the book she definitely wouldn’t buy. She’d arrived just after Prisha had left, and Noémi’s mind now floated back to her earlier chat with Felix when he’d said everyone needs their person. She didn’t know how true that was, but Felix seemed sweet on the lady, even though she rarely spoke, and today she was inexplicably wearing a flashing Rudolph nose.

Perhaps Daniel had become Noémi’s person, in a non-romantic way. She certainly needed him now, because she couldn’t leave Felix in charge of the shop. Last month, he’d got confused and had offered a buy-one-get-two-free deal to all customers, resulting in nearly a week’s worth of profits disappearing. And thank goodness she’d been in earshot the day he’d almost sold Wanderer to a woman who’d come in asking for directions to the pet shop. Daniel kept saying she should talk to him about retirement, but she couldn’t bear to think of him being lonely at home, losing his routine and sense of purpose. Though if they didn’t get more customers in soon, she would have to toughen up – for everyone’s sake. Or there would be no shop left to run.

‘Hi, honey, I’m hooome,’ said Daniel, rushing through the door, looking a little flustered. ‘Sorry, got stuck nattering. You know how it is when I get my eyes on a good occasion-wear fabric.’

Noémi laughed. Just as she was explaining where she was off to, a small group pushed into the shop, also wearing flashing noses. It was the crowd Shay had accosted earlier, albeit they looked more like mythical festive creatures than they had before. Perhaps they’d been Shayed.

‘Well, this is cosy,’ said a woman who was a touch older than Noémi, with a mildly Scandinavian accent and short blonde hair. ‘Very hygge.’

The other four agreed, already moving around the bookshop and admiring the contents of the shelves. A gathering of real customers. At last. Noémi felt a quiet bubble of excitement.

‘Thank you,’ said Noémi, discreetly rubbing her clammy hands down her apron. ‘Do let me know if I can help, or feel free to browse.’

‘We will,’ said the blonde lady, who introduced herself as Ingrid. ‘The gentleman next door sent us your way. We’re on a coach trip from Yorkshire and a few of us have just booked on for his reindeer trekking. It sounds quirky, even if the reindeer might be goats in coats.’ She chuckled. ‘We can barely wait. He was telling us about his experiences all over the world, from hiking the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu to diving with sharks around the Galápagos Islands. So fascinating.’

Right. Noémi should have known he was one of those Machu Picchu sorts. No wonder he wasn’t sticking around the quiet Cotswolds for long. He’d soon be bored stiff, with nothing more than a natural spring and a whole lot of hazel trees.

‘We thought we’d see if you sell books about expeditions. We may never meet polar bears in the Antarctic, but you never know where a good coffee-table book might tempt you to.’

‘Adventures in Books,’ said a short older man. ‘Where the best ones begin.’

‘Well, yes,’ Noémi agreed. Though she didn’t like to add that in your imagination is where they should safely stay. ‘Though we haven’t stocked that sort of book for a while. Not much demand for it around here.’ And she couldn’t stand to look at the things for the bad memories that clung to them. ‘We can order books in, if you have something specific in mind?’

‘Hmm, it’s not the same as browsing and choosing.’ Ingrid’s eyes flitted to the door.

‘We have plenty of fictional adventures,’ Daniel added swiftly. ‘Who are your favourite authors?’

‘Oh, it’s you,’ said Ingrid, seeming to notice Daniel for the first time. ‘Didn’t we just see you …’ She pointed towards the wall. Which was odd.

‘In the street!’ Daniel finished. ‘Yes, yes. You probably did. I get everywhere. Well, not everywhere.’ Why was he waffling? And blushing. ‘Let me show you options.’ He began to steer Ingrid into the maze of shelves.

Hmm. Though Noémi didn’t have time to ponder it, as they had customers to help. Felix was fussing around Mrs Jingleman and showing her more books, which was probably the safest place for him.

‘Do you have any antique books or rare special editions?’ the short man asked, pushing his round glasses up his nose. ‘I’m a collector.’

Noémi felt her stomach drop. ‘Well, not really.’

‘Oh, we do,’ Felix piped up. ‘Head to the back of the shop. They’ll be on your left, quite high up, in a locked cabinet. But we do have library ladders.’

Noémi bristled. They were quite high up because they were precious, and she didn’t like people touching them. She knew that was silly, and that if she sold even one it would bring a healthy profit. But it was like someone wanting to swan in and buy your cherished family pets. Wasn’t it?

But the man was already making his way to the back of the shop, the others following. They all seemed nice enough, being book people. Though that didn’t mean she was ready to share all her toys.

‘This is a shop,’ Daniel whispered to her as she passed him. ‘We need to sell things. Let it go, Elsa.’

If anyone else had compared her troubles to those of a Disney princess to the tune of that overplayed song, she might have thwacked them with a strip of tinsel. It was lucky for Daniel that she adored him like she did.

While the man and his friends swooned over vintage editions of La Fontaine’s Fables and Les Misérables, thankfully with clean hands, Noémi could almost hear her own heart pounding. Some of these books were worth thousands, and one sale could solve a lot of problems, at least in the interim. They were hers now and selling them ought to be a good thing.

But she was torn. Because her mother had sat Noémi on her knee and read to her from these books, hugging her tight with one arm and pointing to the black-and-white illustrations with the other. She remembered her mum’s voice, animated with the excitement of being pulled into a story, sweeping Noémi along with her. And she knew those times still lived in her own memory – but she also knew that memories could fail. These books were tangible things that she could cling to. Hadn’t they all lost enough?

Yet if she didn’t do an Elsa and let it go, she’d be losing the whole bookshop. Where would she live, with her piles of fancy books? And more importantly, where would Élisabeth live? Noémi could not afford to keep paying for Happy Hedges if the shop made no money.

Before Noémi knew it, the man had made a careful stack of the books he was interested in buying, and the sale price would be enough to involve negotiations and a calculator. Noémi settled on, ‘I’ll have to think about it.’ She took his business card and vowed she would try to broach it with her mum.

Then, taking a leaf out of Daniel’s book, she decided not to lose the chance of a sale. This was her moment.