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‘Jolly good,’ Reverend Godbee agreed. ‘And did I hear chit-chat about a book club? I do like a cosy murder, and I can round up troops.’

‘We could be in for a book club,’ said Delilah, who’d just barged through the door in her smoking jacket, holding a twenty-four pack of Smiths Bacon Fries. A few of the pub regulars followed her. ‘Though not cosy murder. I prefer something more gruesome, where they kidnap folk and chop off their body parts.’

Right.

‘I’m only into books with wizards,’ said one of the pub-goers. ‘Can you make it about fantasy books?’

And just when Noémi thought her shop couldn’t possibly fit another person without bursting, Chai came in holding a tray, boho skirts swishing and bobble hat bouncing. ‘Hazelnut praline lattes. Flavour of the week, and there’s plenty more at the van.’

‘You guys have a van that does fancy lattes?’ asked brandy-cream lady. ‘I am so coming here more often. And there are plenty of books that are coming home with me tonight.’

‘Same,’ said her friend with the mince pies. ‘Though could you do a Mills & Boon book club? And do you do author events? How about blind date with a book?’

‘They have stationery!’ squealed one of the Tequila Jammers.

Some might have said squealing about pretty notebooks was a bit much, but Noémi got it. Her heart began to bounce with excitement, even if the book club plan was sounding more complicated by the minute.

And soon everyone was busying themselves, some taking charge of cleaning and offering spare rugs. Others piling up books they were insistent on buying, even though Noémi kept explaining they weren’t meant to be open. Somebody put on festive choir music and Reverend Godbee started singing rum pa pum pums.

Daniel arrived with Tommaso and a hunky off-duty fireman. Tommaso got busy taking photos and talking about ‘online gossip’, though Noémi still hadn’t worked out why. Even Shay appeared, looking forlorn to have only brought milk when others had produced the makings of a festive feast.

Noémi was surprised to see him dressed as a normal human being, wearing jeans and a jumper, rather than strange tights or wings. The jumper was slim fit and woollen, pulling tight across his chest and suiting him, even if she did sort of miss the novelty wardrobe.

‘I can bring my leftover avocado cookies?’ he offered.

‘Health and safety says no,’ said Carrie, who’d helpfully brought spare cutlery – which she hadn’t yet bent into festive robins. ‘I mean, they weren’t awful. But just … why?’

Shay opened his mouth and then closed it again. He’d only been on the street for a week, but Noémi liked that he’d learned there was no point in arguing with Carrie.

‘It’s great to see the street bustling this weekend,’ said Carrie, nodding at Noémi. ‘Not the best circumstances, but sometimes these things bring folk together. And after Shay’s adventures yesterday, everyone’s been raving about the goats dressed as wee reindeer. Are you going on one of Shay’s ventures?’

Noémi gulped and tried not to look at Shay. ‘Erm. It’s under discussion,’ Noémi replied.

She’d barely had time to think about their conversation the night before with everything else going on. Most of the previous evening still felt like a surreal dream. Was their odd chat about him reading books and not wearing fitness watches still on his radar? And what would he suggest by way of adventure? She’d seen the photos on his shop wall, and there was no way she’d be zorbing down the Cotswold hills like a festive ferret in a ball.

‘We’re thinking about it,’ Shay said smoothly. ‘Though talking of the street being busy. Is it worth considering how we could keep things bustling all season and beyond? Not that I’ll be around that long.’ He shrugged.

If Noémi had been assessing him and his lovely jumper in a doe-eyed fashion, she promptly reminded herself not to. He would soon be on his merry way. On the vague off-chance she would ever open a tiny, advent-calendar-sized door to her heart again, it couldn’t be to a man who adventured the hell out of life before disappearing in pursuit of the next shiny thing.

‘The street could do with better Christmas decorations,’ said Noémi, keen to stop her mind wandering. ‘I keep thinking that our half-broken festive lights are giving off stingy Scrooge vibes. We’re not going to pull in the Christmas shoppers with a bedraggled string of lights and Barbara’s stuffed alligator.’

‘Two souls but with a single thought,’ said Shay, pointing at her and grinning.

Noémi wasn’t sure if he’d made that up or if the whiff of brandy cream in the air had gone to his head.

‘I dropped by Mr Ham’s Hardware shop on the way,’ Shay went on.

‘The one who collects drones?’ asked Catherine, edging over for the gossip.

‘I heard it was gnomes,’ said Texan Jim, wandering by with a turkey-leg sandwich and an armful of books about goats.

‘Anyway,’ Shay continued. ‘I asked if he had any big ladders to fix the Christmas lights. It turns out he has a stash of extra decorations from “When the street was less crap” in his words – not mine.’

‘So rude,’ Catherine muttered.

‘He’s a trained electrician. He’ll help me put them up, and he’s willing to double-check the bookshop’s electrical appliances, after scary Abi’s lecture.’

Noémi nodded her thanks.