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Indeed. This level of clarity would be safer all round.

As people spilled off the coach, chattering excitedly and pulling on coats and scarves, Noémi and Shay directed them to the shops, or towards Chai’s pretty van at the end, which was now draped with fairy lights, the marquee next to it bedecked with candy canes and tinsel. Noémi’s heart warmed at the sight of people marvelling at the street’s quirky new decorations and deciding which shops to visit first.

Prisha came out of Oh Sew Special, bundled in a warm knitted shawl.

‘It’s a coach,’ she whispered to Noémi, as though they didn’t see them every day, driving straight past. ‘And it’s stopped.’

They watched as Shay guided visitors into Noémi’s bookshop, seeming not to think of his own.

‘Maybe your adventure with our gorgeous Irish neighbour has brought us luck.’

Noémi shrugged. ‘Or maybe a coach is just a coach.’

Prisha looked at her strangely. ‘Did he get you drunk?’ she joked.

Spirit came out of her shop, looking surprised by the crowds before noticing her freshly repainted A-board and narrowing her eyes.

‘I like big buds and I cannot lie,’ she read a little huffily, her voice carrying on the chilly air. ‘Did anyone see who did this?’

Noémi and Prisha shook their heads, Prisha seeming like she wanted to giggle. Her A-board had recently been pimped with Sew what? I’m fabulous, so she had nothing to gripe about.

‘Carrie’s compiling a spreadsheet of people’s movements,’ said Spirit. ‘She’s going to work this out.’

‘Big buds!’ said a woman from the coach trip, ambling over. ‘Do you have any budding Christmas cacti?’

‘Schlumbergera.’ Spirit’s face brightened, even though Noémi wasn’t sure if that was a plant name or a sneeze. ‘I do. Pink, mauve, or white?’

Noémi smiled as Spirit invited the woman in, two others following. ‘Business is finally starting to bloom.’

‘It sew is,’ said Prisha, seeming pleased with the pun. ‘Though have you seen the other side of my sign? It’s says “Boy on board”.’ She tapped her nose. ‘So it seems this mystery writer isn’t up on everything. Most people know I’m having a girl.’

‘And we can’t wait,’ said Noémi, giving her friend a side hug, because it was altogether easier. ‘Anyway, I’ve got to run. I’ve got festive cookies to make.’

‘The cookies are back? It’s a Christmas miracle,’ Prisha cheered. ‘Now, go! Ooh, and I may have a surprise for you later.’

Though Noémi didn’t have the headspace to wonder about that. She gave Prisha another excited squeeze and left her chatting to a group of shoppers enquiring about her festive bunting and asking for directions to the shop with the stuffed alligator wearing holly-patterned bloomers.

Chapter 31

Noémi didn’t usually let anyone in her kitchen while she baked. Much like she preferred not to invite anyone into her bedroom when she was snuggled up with a book, her baking time had always been an oasis of peace where she didn’t want to be disturbed. The shades of duck egg and the gleam of copper pans soothed her, and her mother’s traditional wooden worktops, scarred with love but smooth to the touch, made her feel connected, even when she was alone.

Yet there was something about a man with socks for ears and a smudged heart painted onto his nose that had persuaded her to bend the rules. Shay was quietly pacing the kitchen, giggling to himself over a romcom novel set in a Christmas village straight out of the North Pole that was one of her favourites. With her nerves already jittering, Shay’s unobtrusive presence was a small comfort.

She’d imagined choosing a book for Shay would have taken much deliberation and ceremony, with a hint of rebellion. Though he’d simply spotted it on a shelf and seemed drawn to it, his fingers tracing the spine before gently pulling it out and inspecting the cover. One look at the first page and he’d been hooked. Sometimes your perfect read had a way of finding you. She was excited that he was about to escape into an imaginary world of sleigh rides and Northern lights – and perhaps a little envious.

In the main area of the shop, she could hear a French version of ‘Joy to the World’ being played, the choral voices angelic against a background of jolly chatter and the till drawer pinging open and shut. Music to her ears – not least because it meant people were finding their perfect stories and not just hanging around for the cake.

‘Can I help with anything?’ Shay asked, not pulling his eyes away from his reading.

‘It’s all under control.’ She smiled to herself.

The thought that Shay might actually be lost in a story thrilled her. He’d managed to convince her that not all real-life adventures were to be avoided like the threat of cottage cheese in a cookie. Against her own expectations, she’d enjoyed snowshoeing down the hill with Shay, taking in the views and filling her lungs with fresh air – even if she’d had to race him back up again.

She gave him a discreet sideways glance, trying not to giggle at the cuteness of his tongue, which was sticking out of the side of his mouth while he read. For a guy she’d thought was all about protein shakes and calf stretches, they’d had some fairly thought-provoking conversations that day. If she was throwing all caution to the wind, she might even say Shay was nearly as intriguing as a book.

And she’d inspired him to read something – even if he wasn’t exactly sitting still. She’d have to work on that. She couldn’t wait to curl up with her own festive novel later. Perhaps you could only fully appreciate getting cosy after you’d spent the morning nearly freezing your toes off.

The kitchen was warm now, the oven getting ready to accept its first batch, which had been quick-chilled in the freezer for a chewier, more flavour-infused bite. The room smelt sweet from the dark chocolate Noémi had melted for her unique festive dipping sauce. She had whisked, sieved, and folded to perfection. She’d even taken a moment to sneak in some of her secret ingredients while Shay was still engrossed in his book. A pinch of fine sea salt, a scrape of pure vanilla. A sprinkle of espresso powder to intensify the chocolate. Now she was inspecting her baking tray of mini dough balls, her heart filling with a sense of calm at their perfectly neat rows. With a last visual sweep, it was time to bake.