I’m regretting taking such a big bite. Fergus is still watching me with a proud look, and it’s almost impossible not to shudder as my teeth crunch on something that might once have been a cranberry. Or some form of animal defecation.

‘It’s certainly busy here.’ I look around the market as I try to swallow without Fergus realising how difficult it is.

‘Didn’t expect that, did you, Londoner?’ Noel says.

‘It’s a real hub here,’ Fergus says. ‘Our market is known countrywide. People even come over from Europe closer to Christmas. We’re on a list of best markets in the UK and it brings in so many tourists. Of course, it used to be so much better …’

‘Budget cuts.’ Fiona suddenly pops up behind me, making me jump with her sudden appearance. I hope she didn’t notice the grimace as I turned away to swallow the last of that pastry or the way my eyes are watering because a particularly sharp bit caught my throat on the way down.

‘We used to have lights all over the building and the most gorgeous tree right there in the entranceway.’ She points to an elevated platform in the centre of the walkway inside the main entrance. ‘But the council cut funding a few years ago so we haven’t had one for a while, and it makes such a difference to the festive spirit. Last year, the handbag stall owner was kind enough to bring in a moth-eaten plastic tree that had been in his loft for a few years. It was okay after we got the dust off it, but it fell apart before the end of the season.’

‘Do you want a real tree?’ I ask as the idea comes to me. ‘I’d be happy to donate one. It’s definitely a good cause – the market is gorgeous.’

‘Oh, would you really?’ Fergus says.

‘The darling Mr Evergreene used to donate one every year, but we didn’t expect you to carry on the tradition,’ Fiona adds. ‘And it’s ever such good advertising. We’d put a big sign up saying where it came from, and the tree stands right in the entrance so everyone would see it …’

I can’t help giggling at their mischievous faces, leaving me in no doubt that this was exactly the way they’d hoped the conversation would go. ‘How about one of the Peppermint firs?’ I turn to Noel. ‘They’re so striking, that would be an ideal place for one.’

‘And some smaller ones for the corners of the market?’ Fiona says.

‘Of course.’ I had no idea that Evergreene used to provide trees to the market. Maybe it’s a good omen that I thought of it too.