‘Was that a compliment?’ I grin at him. ‘You weren’t kidding about these trees, were you? What kind of magical powers are they hiding if they can even coax a compliment out of you?’

His laugh rumbles around the farm and my chest is fluttering with festive joy as we carry on walking. I can imagine it as he describes it, and I’m suddenly brimming with ideas to make it a reality again.

Chapter 7

Noel promised to pick me up bright and early, although I didn’t bother asking what constituted ‘bright and early’ because I didn’t expect to get any sleep at all. I’d planned to spend the night lying on the airmattress and scribbling down ideas, but by the time I’d retrieved more essentials from the car and snuggled into the fabric conditioner scent of the sleeping bag … the next thing I know, there’s a car horn blasting outside the boarded up window, and I wake up with a leap.

Screech. Screeeech. Screeeeeeeeech. Screech. Screeeeeeeeeech. I think it’s Morse code for ‘I’m a loud and annoying twat’.

I stumble blearily upright, squinting like a mole emerging from its burrow for the first time under the harsh kitchen lightbulb that’s still on from last night.

Screeeeech. Screech. Screech. Screeeeeeeech.

I stumble into the dark hallway and fumble around for the key. I shove it in the lock and twist it harshly – anything to stop that awful noise as quickly as humanly possible – and burst out the front door, only to be greeted by … nighttime.

Screeeeeeeee— ‘Oh good, I was about to start knocking. Good morning, sunshine!’

‘Sunshine?’ I mutter, blinking at the shock of the damp morning air and the darkness. From the noise he’s making, I’d assumed it was about midday. ‘You said bright and early, there’s nothing bright about this, it’s still dark.’

Noel’s leaning out of the driver’s side window of a battered old truck that looks like it might have been yellow once, but is now distinctly patterned by rust and peeling paint. ‘It’s 6 a.m. The sun doesn’t rise until eight o’clock at this time of year. Are you ready?’

‘Ready?’ I ask, realising that I’ve just vaulted out of bed, my hair must be smooshed up in all directions and I’ve probably got crusts in my eyes and drool dried on my chin, but he looks ridiculously good for this time of day. There’s a tuft of a ponytail sticking out under a red and white snowflake patterned beanie hat, a navy flannel shirt covering his arms, and a body warmer which would probably look ridiculous on anyone else, but he manages to make it look sexy.

‘For the market. I have to get there early to set up.’

‘This early?’