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‘Planting new hazel trees to offset the carbon emissions of my events?’ He placed one hand over his heart, as though jesting that her words had mortally wounded him.

To her annoyance, his tray didn’t even quiver. Planting trees? She guessed it was possible, but then he was hardly going to admit to growing a marijuana jungle at Happy Hedges. What would Judith say?

‘I’ll believe it when I see it.’ Noémi crossed her arms.

‘I did order in some hazel tree saplings for Shay, to be fair,’ said Spirit. ‘He collected them this morning, though he didn’t say what they were for.’

‘A non-attention-seeking philanthropist,’ said Reverend Godbee, nodding his approval.

Non-attention-seeking? The man was dressed as a fairy-lit carrot.

Noémi heard the bookshop door open.

‘Everything all right out here?’ Daniel tried to discreetly ask her. ‘It’s just that the cafetières are getting cold.’

‘Daniel, my man,’ said Shay cheerfully. ‘Good to see you again. Can I tempt you with one of my Christmas cookies?’

Noémi stiffened. My man? Since when had these two been all pally, and why had Daniel not mentioned it? She turned slowly to eyeball her best friend. He had the good grace to look flustered.

‘Erm. I’m good, thanks.’ Daniel raised a hand to Shay, clearly trying to avoid eye contact with him.

If Daniel was turning down the promise of a festive cookie, he must be feeling guilty. She would absolutely be having words with him later and her stern look told him so. It was wildly unfair to get people taking sides in the world’s most passive-aggressive non-fight, yet she wanted to scream PICK ME.

‘Can I interest anyone in good coffee and delicious Christmas cake while we talk about books? The fire’s on!’ She tried to make it sound as jolly as possible, without actually begging.

She was met with a lot of mumbling, and people looking at their feet.

‘Next time,’ Tanveer said, in his usual positive tone. ‘I’m sure Prisha would enjoy it.’

‘Mummy doesn’t read books,’ one of the twins said.

Tanveer clapped a hand over the little one’s mouth. ‘She dooooooes.’

‘You should all give it a go,’ said Shay, his voice sounding upbeat. ‘Mademoiselle Blanc here will be offering walking tours to tie in with the books, so I hear. I’ve no doubt they’ll be exceptional.’

Noémi wanted to get an inkling that he was mocking her, so she could point out how mean he was. But he just sounded genuine. Bugger it. There was a polite chorus of ‘next time’, though Noémi wasn’t sure she believed them.

Just as Noémi thought her last ounce of hope had been buried like the roots of a sapling, dear Mrs Jingleman meandered towards them, pulling her trolley at a speed snails might overtake. Thank goodness. Lovely, quiet Mrs Jingleman. Dependable. Bookish. And unquestionably here for books and cake, even though she categorically wouldn’t spend a crumb on either. But that was fine. Noémi never expected a thing, other than her loyal, faithful, truly committed presence.

‘You’re here,’ said Noémi as Mrs Jingleman got closer, positively beaming to have at least one person at her book club. ‘I’m so happy to see you. Let me take your trolley and get you a nice warm drink.’

Mrs Jingleman clutched the trolley against herself and shook her head, looking cross at the over-effusive greeting. She tipped her head towards Shay and continued her excruciatingly slow walk, luggage wheels squeaking.

‘Top o’ the morning, Mrs J. Do have one of my cookies.’

Urrrrrrrggggghhhhh. Noémi could have actually cried.

‘What is in those dratted things, anyway?’ Noémi asked, between gritted teeth.

‘Ahh, my secret ingredient.’ He winked, then lowered his voice. ‘Avocado.’ His eyes danced, as though it was the best-kept secret in the world.

‘Avocado?’ Her stomach turned. ‘In a cookie? Why on earth?’

She’d heard of the idea, of course. She wasn’t green about baking. But avo-flipping-cado, instead of deliciously creamy butter? No, no, nooooo.

‘They’re heart healthy, packed with nutrients, better for your blood pressure …’

They were not doing any favours for her blood pressure right then.