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Noémi was sure that man would never stop making her chuckle.

When Noémi could finally bunch up with Shay on the sofa, him gifting her an early edition of Swallows and Amazons that was beyond beautiful, she thought she might shatter with happiness. She’d chosen a book of Irish poems for him, which she hoped he would savour too.

‘I feel like I’m finally embracing my inner Nancy,’ she said lightly, her fingers tracing the lettering on her book’s front cover.

‘Looking at how busy the shop has been, and how thrilled everyone is to be here, maybe you’ve saved your Wildcat Island.’

Noémi looked around, taking it all in. You could never be sure of the future. But in that moment, her ship was just about bobbing on top. She only hoped that when she counted the takings in the morning and added them to her running total, she was right. ‘If I can just keep courageously sailing.’

As Noémi began reading a page to Shay, the door tinkled open and a woman Noémi didn’t recognize walked in.

‘Did anyone lose a funny hat?’ the woman asked shyly, holding up a green knitted item with brown woollen spikes. Her face was partially obscured by her strawberry-blonde hair.

Noémi could just make out one hazel-coloured eye and a smattering of freckles. The equally reserved Jasper watched her intently.

Mary Lou claimed the hat as Goatrude’s, the cheeky goat taking the opportunity to nuzzle her nose into the surprised newcomer’s bottom.

‘I don’t suppose anyone knows of a place to stay?’ asked the woman, almost apologetically. ‘Think I’m having a “no room at the inn” situation. I was sure there used to be a guest house at the other end of this road. I stayed there as a child.’

‘It was a bakery,’ said Jasper, straightening himself.

‘Think it used to be both,’ said Carrie. ‘A long time ago.’

‘Oh.’ The woman looked deflated. ‘Well, sorry to have disturbed your party.’ She made to back away.

‘It’s a celebration for everyone. Please stay,’ said Noémi. She’d never seen the woman before, but she sensed she’d like her. And nobody should be out in the cold on Christmas Eve.

‘Thank you. I’m Megan. And this is a beautiful bookshop. I always remember it being so warm and welcoming. It looks different, somehow. But it feels the same.’

‘Thank you,’ said Noémi, another wave of cheer filling her. Because that was exactly what she’d been aiming for.

‘I’ve got a pub,’ Delilah piped up. ‘I don’t officially offer rooms, but there’s always space. I won’t see you stranded.’

Megan nodded her eager thanks.

‘Megan might be having a “no room at the inn” problem,’ said Prisha, who was squirming in her chair. ‘But I think I’m having a “baby in a manger” predicament. Can someone sober please give me a lift to the hospital?’

‘I knew she was going to pop before New Year,’ said Carrie. ‘Who’s got the sweepstake?’

‘I have plenty of hay,’ said Mary Lou. ‘Though I’m on my second eggnog.’

‘I’ll run for the van,’ said Shay. ‘Noémi, you get Prisha bundled up and measure the time between her contractions. Don’t panic – I have a lot of nieces and nephews. If we get stuck, it’s not my first rodeo.’

Texan Jim was all but offering his cowboy boots.

‘Tanveer. Take the kids to my sister’s, collect my hospital bag, and then meet us there. We’re going to have a Christmas Eve baby girl, people. Though I might have taken your book flood a bit too literally.’ Prisha looked at Noémi apologetically. Her waters had broken.

Over Daniel squealing with joy, Tommaso deliberating that a person might want to choose their own gender and Catherine asking what colour hat she was allowed to crochet, nobody heard Mrs Jingleman – once a midwife – mutter that Prisha was undoubtedly having a boy.

Chapter 56

Christmas Day

‘Yesterday. What a day,’ said Noémi, as she huddled back under her duvet with Shay that Christmas morning, having just brought in a breakfast of Christmas tea and candy cane cookies. Though with Shay under her covers, the cookies might have to wait – and so might the notebook of scribbled numbers she’d just been adding up.

‘What a night,’ he whispered as he lay on his back, his eyes still closed.

‘Yes! Imagine Prisha having a bouncing baby boy. I think he’ll be wearing pink for a while, though that mystery signwriter predicted it. At least she didn’t give birth in the back of Ethel on a pile of Goatrude’s hay.’