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Noémi prayed it wasn’t too much for her. ‘What brought you here?’ she asked Judith. Had news of the busy shop travelled that fast?

‘Don’t look at me,’ said Lisa, her eyes scanning the room. ‘I just came for the DILF.’

Judith gave her colleague a warning nudge. ‘Shay rang. He wondered if there was any chance of “breaking Élisabeth out”, as he called it.’

Élisabeth’s face brightened at Shay’s name and Noémi couldn’t help her lips curving into a smile.

‘Just for a cuppa,’ Judith added quickly. ‘I’m not going to be held responsible for any Great Escape. We drove down, picking Felix up along the way.’

Élisabeth seemed to remember her almost lifelong colleague – her long-term memory often better than her short-term one. Would she recognize the bookshop soon? Were there too many people in the way? Or had Noémi made too many changes and made a Christmas pig’s ear of things?

Just as Noémi’s thoughts began to spin, the door opened again – and in bounced a man dressed as an elf.

Chapter 33

Élisabeth turned at the sound of the shop’s bell, as though the habit of greeting new customers was still ingrained in her.

Shay closed the door and tipped his elf hat. ‘How’s it goin’ there?’ he asked, in his best exaggerated Irish accent, presumably because it was too late for a top o’ the morning.

He gave Noémi a wink, which made her feel strangely fluttery.

‘Shay, Shay!’ Élisabeth sang.

Noémi would usually have sighed at the unfairness of this near stranger jumping the queue in her mum’s memory – but right then, Noémi was relieved. Perhaps she should take to wearing outrageously memorable tights.

‘Go on a date with my single daughter,’ said Élisabeth, clapping her gloved hands, her eyes dancing.

Well, there was a conversation Noémi would have preferred her mum to have forgotten.

‘Ahh, she’s too good for me,’ Shay swooped in and replied. ‘Pointy-eared troublemakers don’t stick around beyond the season. She deserves a keeper, doesn’t she?’

Noémi might have felt her heart deflate a little. Or it might just have been indigestion.

Élisabeth grinned and gave a wink of her own. ‘La magie de Noël.’

The magic of Christmas.

‘It’s certainly a special time,’ Shay agreed.

Daniel came to help carry Élisabeth’s old patchwork armchair to a space near the fireplace, which was filled with flickering LED candles now crackling fires were officially banned. With the twinkle of the Christmas tree’s lights and fairy lights strung everywhere, the shop still had the perfect cosy glow, and turning the heating up kept things toasty – even if Noémi was not looking forward to seeing her next bill.

With Tommaso behind the till serving and some of the coach trip crowd beginning to clear, the shop was returning to manageable levels of busyness, and Élisabeth seemed calmer. They pulled up a seat for Felix – though Mrs Jingleman looked a little sniffy. Lisa wandered off to the health and beauty books and Judith settled next to Élisabeth. Noémi and Shay stayed on their feet.

Just as Daniel returned with a pot of Christmas tea and some Yule log – because they were disappointingly out of Christmas cookies – the door pinged again. This time it was Prisha, wrestling a large box. Shay pranced over to help.

‘Surprise!’ Prisha announced, adding jazz hands once Shay had taken the box and placed it on the coffee table. ‘Your costume has been repaired.’

‘Oh.’ Noémi’s hand went to her heart. With everything else that had been going on, she’d almost forgotten. ‘La Mère Noël.’

And as though the box was somehow enchanting her, Noémi leaned in and peeled back the golden tissue paper that may or may not have been dusted with flecks of stardust. She looked up, wondering if Élisabeth should unpack the dress. But lifting the folds of red velvet would be heavy work, and her mum was nodding for her to continue.

The room seemed to hush around them as Noémi eased the dress from the box and held it against her. The lace had been carefully stitched back on, and the antique material had been repaired where it had once been moth-eaten. The full skirt flowed and sparkled, no more missing sequins on the silvery snowflakes.

‘C’est superbe,’ Élisabeth breathed.

It was superb. There were tears welling in Noémi’s eyes as she thanked Prisha – though perhaps words would never be enough.

Then with an unexpected flash of clarity, Élisabeth remembered something Noémi had long forgotten.