It makes me giggle and me giggling sets him off too, and we don’t realise we’ve missed Fiona’s latest instruction until she stops in her tracks and turns to face us with her arms folded and a pinched look on her face.

‘Sorry, Fiona.’ Noel tries so hard to adopt a serious face that it makes me laugh even more.

‘Sorry, Fiona.’ I giggle and it makes him start up again too.

Fiona raises an eyebrow, but her face changes from annoyed to knowing, and she gets the same look she always gets when she hears a bit of gossip.

Suitably scolded, I take more notes as she walks us through the market, pointing out where she wants the smaller trees, and saying hello to all the stallholders as we pass.

Fiona stops for a chat with her friend at the candle stall, and I take the opportunity to dash towards the back of the market and collect my business cards, flyers, and postcards from the printing stall. They were ready to collect last week, but I’ve been so busy with the farm that this is the first chance I’ve had to get back here and pick them up. Weeding has been top of the agenda. I reasoned that the seasonal workers who have started now will be experts at shearing trees, but it would help if they could actually get to them first.

I squeak in delight when the lad hands me a box and inside is the most beautiful set of marketing materials I’ve ever seen. They’re perfect. The background is so bright white it almost glistens and the dark green of the trees make the red of the border pop. They look simple and professional and make me feel like a proper tree farmer. If I picked up one of these, I’d want to go there.

‘Whatcha got there, love?’ the candlemaker asks when I get back to where Fiona is still gossiping.

‘I got some postcards and flyers printed up and they’re amazing.’ I know I’m sporting a gleeful smile, and the lad at the stall designed them, not me, but it feels good to be taking steps to make Peppermint Branches work, even small ones.

The candlemaker clears a space on her stall so I can put the box down, and all three of them gather round and ooh and ahh as I open the box. She plunges her hand in and pulls out a handful of flyers. ‘I’ll tuck one of these in with every candle I sell. Lots of people come here to buy their Christmas gifts, no doubt they’ll be wanting a tree come December too.’

‘Oh, you don’t have to do—’

She interrupts my protest. ‘Nonsense. We help our own here. And Fiona was telling me you’re going to be festifying our market with lots of trees, so it’s the least I can do.’