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Shay touched a light hand to her cheek. ‘Noémi, I can’t avoid telling you this if we’re going to have a future together. I worked out the connection a while ago, but I didn’t know how to say it. I’m not sure if you’ve realized yet.’

‘Realized?’ Her eyebrows knotted.

‘That I’m … I’m Fantasy Man.’

‘What?’ She pulled away from him, suddenly needing space to breathe. ‘You’re … what?’ How was that even possible? Her mind was racing, trying to slot things into place. ‘How long have you been lying to me? Have you been … laughing at me?’

She’d shared her innermost secrets with that person. Her emerging feelings for Shay. And she’d allowed herself to keep falling for Shay, against all her better judgement. To give love a chance, even though she’d been terrified about the consequences. Should she have stayed safely between the pages of her book after all?

‘Did you come to Hazel Blooms knowing who I was?’ She sucked in a gasp, her head dizzy with the emerging possibilities. ‘Have you been playing me all along?’ She hated to even think it. And yet …

‘Wow, no. Not at all. We met genuinely. I clicked into a local chatroom when I visited my granddad once. I had no idea you were Book Girl until we got to know each other in real life. Even then, it wasn’t until after the fire that I was sure. You were pretty specific about the events of that night, which in fairness goes against the rules of Never the Twain. It was impossible not to work it out.’

‘I broke the rules?’ Her voice was incredulous. ‘How about the rules of common decency, which ought to have told you to stop sending messages or to let me bloody know? Fantasy Man encouraged me to go out with this great new neighbour of mine. To give him a chance. You all but used that platform to trick me, like some very weird form of catfishing. And then you must have thought it was hilarious when I confessed that I was in love with you. Or perhaps mortifying. No wonder you fled.’

‘No. No. Look I was head over heels falling for you myself. I just loved talking to you, in all the different ways. I meant to stop the messages straight away. But it was addictive having those deep and meaningful conversations with you. I was crazy about Book Girl before I’d even met you. Then when I realized it was you, I thought all my Christmases had come at once. I was wild about the real version of you too. And there were times I thought you realized it was me, and that you were enjoying the make-believe too. Then you messaged less and treated Fantasy Man like a friend, and it would have tapered off. One day I would have told you and we’d have laughed about it. Together. But it was never me laughing at you.’

He went to put a hand on her arm, but she snatched it away, her glare stern. She wanted to believe him, but there were so many questions.

‘Wait. Did Fantasy Man pretend he liked Swallows and Amazons and all that poetry, just to get me to like him?’ That was a thought she couldn’t bear.

‘No way. Look, you can ask my granddad if he didn’t read me every single book in that series when I was growing up. I was gripped by those adventures too. That was when he wasn’t beating me at dominoes.’

Though she wasn’t in the mood for his banter.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘Again. I’m not good at this, am I? You deserve better than this gobshite. I shouldn’t be here, ruining yet another Christmas for you. It looks so impressive out there and you’ve worked hard for this, making your shop a joyful place to be. A success. And you’re achieving it. You don’t need me with my stupid costumes and bad jokes, getting it all wrong.’

Before she had the chance to open her mouth or decide what on earth she would say, he was grabbing his bag and darting through the rabbit warren of books towards the exit. Through the sound of her hammering heart and the spin of her thoughts, she was vaguely aware of chatter in the distance, and Shay’s polite responses. And then the bell above the door – jolting her back to life.

Shit. He was going. And no part of her wanted that. She hoicked up the skirts of her costume and made her way quickly back through the maze of shelves.

‘Why is he leaving?’ asked Daniel, rushing to her side.

‘Santa left a fish!’ said one of Prisha’s twins, pointing to Wanderer’s tank, where a second goldfish sat in a bag of water next to it, looking as confused as Noémi felt.

‘I called him a catfish,’ Noémi whimpered. ‘And said a bunch of rash things I didn’t mean.’ If she paused to process it, it was romantic. Shay was her online Fantasy Man and her living, breathing one. Like You’ve Got Mail, only he was much cuter than Tom Hanks, even though he didn’t own bookshops. But he did like Swallows and Amazons and poetry and have a mum who catered with at least three types of potatoes and the good biscuits.

‘So what are you fannying around for?’ Daniel gave her a shake. ‘It’s time for your “Bridget Jones running through the snow after Mark Darcy” moment. I bloody knew you’d bring us Christmas cheer somehow.’ He grinned at her.

‘In my big knickers?’ She looked down at her vintage Mrs Christmas costume, which she really shouldn’t wear out in this weather. But she had no time or inclination to strip to her undies or recreate anyone else’s love scenes. This one would be just for them.

‘Is this part of the festive show?’ Jim asked, with a hearty clap.

‘Not on purpose,’ Noémi whistled through her teeth.

‘Shay, Shay,’ Élisabeth chanted in delight. It was the most enlivened Noémi had heard her all day and it filled her heart with joy. ‘Cours, cours.’

Her mother was telling her to run, and she didn’t need to hear it twice.

Noémi bolted through the shop door and down the road, far too quickly for a woman in decades-old velvet mismatched with crocheted Christmas slippers. Her feet quickly grew wet in the snow that was trying to settle, cold air stinging the bare skin on her chest. She wasn’t quite sure where Shay had gone, but there’d been no lights in the shop next door, so she prayed he’d parked Ethel at the pub again.

‘Shay!’ Her panicked voice echoed through the air, though she still didn’t see him. ‘Where are you?’ She couldn’t let him go again, with her cross words hanging between them. ‘Shaaaaay.’

As she slid around the bend in the path, he came into view. And it was too late to stop herself crash-landing into him. A surprised laugh escaped him as he caught her. It looked like he’d been on his way back. To her. Her spirit swelled.

Noémi blew her fringe from her face, feeling cold and sweaty all at once. Her heart was pounding and her mouth had no idea what to say.

‘I’m sorry,’ she blurted out. ‘Though I’m not sorry for loving you. Only sorry that I was too embarrassed to tell you properly.’