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‘Oh, you see me.’ This time both sides of his mouth tipped into a smile. ‘As a larger lad at school, playing the Irish joker got me accepted by the popular kids. Although clearly, it’s a natural talent for me, no?’ He cocked his head, the Snowdog sock ears attached to his helmet wobbling.

On second thoughts, he deserved that rib tickle.

Noémi let her fingers loose, enjoying his childish squeal and the way he galloped away from her up the hill, still checking back to see she was all right.

When they reached the top, Noémi was panting, though Shay had barely broken out into a sweat.

‘So how did you turn things around when you came out of hospital?’ she asked, through slightly wheezy breaths. Maybe she should take a leaf out of his exercise book – especially if she was going to be indulging in more seasonal cookies. Hers weren’t processed, at least – but she did like them buttery.

‘I went back to Ireland for a couple of years, at my ma’s insistence. But I felt restless, you know? I couldn’t settle. I was terrified all that hanging around would be the end of me. Not to mention, Ma trying to feed me all the potatoes.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘I got into a few adventure sports. Hiking and mountain biking, kayaking at Killarney Lakes. Then I met a guy who was travelling everywhere and running quirky adventures. He gave me some tips. I took an intensive course and learned all the first aid. Before I knew it, I had the bug. I was off around the world, having adventures of my own. And when I had enough experience, I started working for other people as an instructor. And then finally, for myself.’

‘That’s so brave,’ she said, starting to get her breath back.

‘You work for yourself. You run a whole shop.’ He nodded towards it, now it was back in view.

‘So do you. Even if you are always changing shells, like a hermit crab.’

He chuckled. ‘Hermit crabs change shells when they outgrow the last one. I don’t think I’m getting any larger or more impressive. Maybe I should have showed up for that business studies degree.’ He winked at her. ‘I don’t earn much, the way I run things. I live in a cramped van and I’m always moving. There’s no space to keep equipment, so I often hire things at inflated prices or buy and sell again – right down to that seasonal carrot outfit you love so much. But I’m making a difference – and that’s what matters, right?’

‘Are you making the right difference for you?’

‘I’m keeping myself active and on the move.’ He clapped his hands together with excessive gusto, as though he was partly trying to convince himself. ‘I’m staying alive.’

‘You’re going to do a John Travolta dance, aren’t you?’ She winked. ‘In all seriousness though, have you ever thought about staying still?’ She waved an arm towards the village. ‘We all live here. And last time I checked most of us have been doing so for decades, with or without various ailments, and still hanging in there. I get that you’ve had an awful health scare and you want to stay fit, but I’m not sure your doctors meant you had to literally keep moving.’

‘That’s my life now.’

Did his eyes look a touch sad about that? Or was that just what she secretly wanted to see, so she could talk him into staying a while longer?

‘Have you ever thought of leaving behind your cosy armchair?’ he asked.

She shook her head. Maybe she would take more trips again one day, but right then they lived different lives, and she was fighting to keep her bookshop – that was just how it was. It wasn’t as though she was looking for a thing with him. Or anyone. In fact, maybe it was better that he’d soon be off, so she didn’t have to keep grappling with her wayward thoughts.

‘Well, at least I’ve coaxed you out of your front door and we’ve got your heart pumping.’

If only he knew.

‘Maybe you’ll be offering those literary walking tours you mentioned soon enough?’

‘It’s on the definitely maybe list,’ she said, surprising herself that she actually meant it.

‘I might get you to venture farther than Bloom Hill one day too,’ he joked.

‘I’m not doing that thing with the base jumping.’ She pointed a stern finger.

‘Did you once mention ice-skating? What was that classic book there – White Boots – that all the girls loved?’

‘By Noel Streatfeild,’ Noémi replied, her face lighting up. ‘Though don’t let Daniel hear you say it was mainly for girls.’

‘I never would.’ He lowered his voice. ‘Maybe I read it too. Will I take you both?’

‘I might have known you were a secret reader.’ She gave a pretend gasp.

‘Maybe once upon a time, when I could sit still. I can’t possibly say.’

Noémi tipped her head towards the shop. ‘Anyway, I’d better see how they’re getting on. They’ll probably be out of cookies and I’m bursting to magic up new flavours. Might I see you later?’

He looked at her intently, like it was a wildly important decision, rather than popping into a bookshop to read. It was meant to be his end of the bargain for her hurtling down the hill on an inflatable doughnut, though she hadn’t quite pinned him down to saying yes.