Everything felt expectant and hushed, just as it must have been two thousand years ago. Olivia smiled at the thought, the last of her restlessness banished.

She had a good life here, even if it wasn’t the same kind of busy as her friends’. Still smiling, she unlocked the door to the shop and headed to the stairs in the back, her cosy flat, and the ever-changing affections of Dr Jekyll.

“Oh, Olivia, you shouldn’t have.”

Tina James took the scarlet poinsettia Olivia presented with a pleased smile and a slightly fretful air. “I wasn’t thinking to decorate all that much really, but a plant is always nice.”

“Not decorate!” Olivia planted her hands on her hips in not-so-mock outrage as she glanced around the compact open-plan living area of her mother’s retirement flat. It was Sunday afternoon, and she’d spent a rainy, rather miserable Saturday on her own in the shop, unpacking Christmas decorations and stringing lights and ribbons in an attempt to stave off any flicker of loneliness. No one came in all day, so she might as well have closed the shop and spent the day doing errands or even just reading a book.

She’d flipped the sign to closed firmly at five, refusing to wait for Simon Blacklock to make an appearance. The twelve triple chocolate cupcakes she’d baked she’d brought here to donate to the communal lounge, and she’d told herself not to mope about it. She’d sold all her cupcakes on Friday, and none on Saturday. That was simply the nature of the business. Perhaps she wouldn’t bother making cupcakes next Saturday, and make the cupcake promotion Monday to Friday only. “Why not, Mum?” she asked now. “You’ve always loved decorating.”

Even when they’d been living in a poky little flat in Middlesbrough, her mother had made sure to garland it with holly and evergreen. There had always been a real, live Christmas tree adorned with glittering baubles, and oranges studded with cloves nestling in a bowl, filling the small space with festive fragrance. Olivia had spent hours playing with the ceramic figures of a well-worn and well-loved nativity set.

“Oh, but there isn’t much point here, is there, really?” Tina said with a shrug. “Cup of tea?”

“Yes, please.” Olivia placed the tin of shortbread she’d brought for her mum on the kitchen table, a feeling of unease rippling through her. She’d had her doubts about her mother moving to the sensible but seemingly soulless flat in nearby Witney; her mum had loved the cosy little flat above the shop, as well as paying attention to all the village comings and goings. Admittedly there had been more goings than comings, at least into the shop, but still. Tina had felt a part of things. She didn’t know a soul in Witney.

“Have you gone to one of those bridge mornings?” Olivia asked brightly as Tina filled the kettle at the sink. “You always talk about trying one out.”