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‘But I know your boyfriend’s fictional.’

‘What?’ Noémi could feel her cheeks colouring. ‘He is not.’

‘Daniel mentioned it. Is he from one of your books? Or … somewhere else? You know. A film, or whatever,’ he added hastily.

Why was he checking up on her relationship status?

‘No.’ Not that it was his business, but she was not going to explain that her boyfriend was a person called Fantasy Man whom she’d sworn to never meet. It sounded weird, when you put it like that. ‘Anyway, I’m sure you could have a girlfriend in every location, if you’re always on the move.’

He seemed almost surprised. ‘I could? Ahh, no. I’m just the funny guy. Nobody takes me seriously. And I don’t want to … let anyone down.’

She wondered what that meant. Was he a commitment-phobe? A poke-and-runner? Or maybe he had problems in the poking department. Maybe his stick didn’t work. She felt her eyes widening. No. She couldn’t picture that. If anything, she imagined … She shook her head. Nothing. What on earth was in this tea? She put it down on the floor next to her, feeling flushed.

‘It’s just that I’m always on the move,’ he said absently, as though thinking it through. ‘With my work, and my lifestyle. I’m not the sort to stick around, and I won’t go lying to anyone about that. I have four sisters. They’d brain me if I treated women like disposable dishcloths.’ He laughed. ‘Not to mention I’d kill anyone who dared to use them and run.’

‘That doesn’t rule out casual flings,’ Noémi heard herself say. ‘Not that I’m …’ She flapped her hands. Oh God. ‘That sounded all wrong. It’s really none of my business. I only came here for a cuppa and a sit-down.’

‘Now you’re grilling me on my sex life.’ He nodded sagely. ‘Easy transition. And maybe I’ve been missing a trick. There could be lots of women ready to throw themselves at a hunky guy dressed as a carrot.’ He flexed a bicep, even though it was mostly hidden under orange padding. ‘But even vegetables don’t like to be objectified. Now, will I tell you my real idea for how you can repay my selfless bravery?’

Chapter 25

Noémi and Shay walked through the darkness towards The Tipsy Squirrel, two of his crochet waffle blankets wrapped around her shoulders, his knitted elf hat on her head. The stars winked merrily overhead, and half of the moon shone tentatively – the other half still hiding as though unsure.

That evening, Noémi had learned that the green van with flower stickers she’d recently seen parked near the pub was Shay’s home on wheels, so that was where they were heading – firmly on foot because she’d flat out refused a lift on the back of his mountain bike – with or without him wearing Lycra.

She wondered what Shay’s converted van was like inside. If it was warm in there, with the right heating. If it smelt a little chocolatey, like he sometimes did. If he slept under more blankets, or a big duvet, or something festive-themed and entirely silly.

Not that Noémi had any intention of joining him inside the rickety-looking thing, even if she was curious about how anyone could fit their whole life, and a whole lot of fancy-dress frippery, into one small space. Noémi would head into the pub to ask Delilah if she could sleep in one of her spare rooms for the night. She’d left her phone in the bookshop’s kitchen, and the village didn’t have a guest house these days – though she’d heard there had once been one above the empty bakery. The pub no longer offered rooms to stay in, but despite Delilah’s brash exterior, she was known to take pity on people. It would just be until the next day, when Noémi could get the shop clean and smoke free.

‘So, you’ll think about my proposition?’ Shay asked eagerly, for at least the fifth time since he’d first mentioned it back in his shop. They’d been looking at the photographs on his shop walls of his various excursions: from swinging through the New Forest with a group of tour-goers dressed as monkeys, to kayaking through the fjords dressed as pickled fish. Explaining each photo had brought his eyes – and entire body – to life as he’d gesticulated and told funny stories, impassioned by the idea of keeping people active. She wanted to pass his business off as nonsensical and wildly risky, though for all his adventures, he didn’t have any disaster stories to tell – and it certainly kept him amused.

When she’d dared to mumble something about her distant year of relatively modest travelling after university, she’d set him off with a wild idea.

Noémi took in a lungful of cold night air, pacing past the last of the street’s slightly sad display of Christmas lights before they moved onto the hazel-tree-lined path towards the pub.

‘Hmm,’ she replied, in a non-committal manner.

‘Come on. You owe me this much, surely?’

She couldn’t see his eyes, but this man even had a twinkle in his voice. Where did he get his energy?

‘Just one small, real-life adventure. You and me.’ He gave her a nudge. At least she’d left Wanderer in Shay’s shop for the night, or she would have dropped her tank.

He’d been jesting about winning her round on this point for days, though now she felt she ought to at least hear him out.

‘It can’t be any less safe than being holed up in your shop. Look at what happened tonight. I would say it’s positively reckless to stay indoors.’

What could have happened was no laughing matter, but right then, she needed this lightness.

‘All those books could be dangerous,’ he joked, trying to make the last word sound spooky. In his current fancy dress, it was doubtful he’d frighten anyone. ‘And if accidents can happen anywhere, why limit yourself to four walls and a hazardously flamboyant armchair?’

‘My mother’s patchwork chair is a vintage phenomenon.’ She nudged him back.

‘As all good things should be. A mish-mash of memories, experiences, lessons learned, goals conquered …’

‘Shay, it’s a chair.’ She stopped to put a hand on his forehead like he might be suffering from a fever.

Wait – was she touching him? And now they were facing each other. If she’d been the sort of person to measure things, she might judge that their bodies were barely the length of two paperbacks apart. This really had been an unusual night. She sucked in a breath and pulled her hand away and put some space between their bodies. Three paperbacks was more polite.