Moji settled herself onto one of two stools behind the counter and motioned for him to take the other one. ‘Those stacking rings have been selling like hotcakes,’ she said. ‘And the pull-along trains too. Are there any more in that box?’

‘Three of the rings, one train, but I can make more if you want.’

Moji took the train out of the box and handled it, running her fingers over the silky painted wood. ‘Such beautiful workmanship. You have a real gift.’ She then glanced up to the shelf behind the till and Brody knew what was coming next. ‘I don’t suppose…’

He shook his head. Moji was talking about the unpainted, unvarnished figure of a willowy wood elf he’d done last summer, carving on a whim, letting his fingers create without thought. This is what he’d come up with. The delicate figure had flowing skirts and a faraway look in her eyes. She was completely different from anything else he’d ever made, and for some reason that had bothered him, but he’d known that Moji would like her, and for Moji’s friendship (and her lack of judgement about his peculiar ways) he’d made a gift of the elf to her.

‘Lots of people come in wanting to buy her, but I just can’t bear to part with her. However, if you could make me another one… Or maybe even three?’ she said, smiling widely with a naughty glint in her eyes.

Brody chuckled. One of the things he liked about Moji was her tenacity. ‘She’s one of a kind,’ he told her. ‘Like you.’

She punched him on the arm. ‘Oh, you old charmer,’ she said, laughing.

But just then the shop door rattled. Brody stood up, almost sending his stool flying. A middle-aged woman with pasty skin and frizzy hair had her nose pressed up against the window, eyes shielded by her hand. She tried the locked door again.

‘Some people!’ Moji said, smiling good-naturedly all the same. She headed for the shop door. It was a journey of ten steps, maximum, even with Moji’s tiny legs.

‘What are you doing?’ Brody asked, gripping his mug tightly and taking a step back, closer to the wall.

‘I’m going to let her in. It’s only Alison Shaw. She told me last week that she was expecting another grandchild imminently and he must have arrived.’

‘But you’re not open yet.’

‘It’s only another ten minutes and she’s one of my best customers.’

Brody put his mug of tea down on the desk, even though he’d only taken a couple of sips from it and it was still blissfully hot. Lewis, who’d been sitting patiently beside the kitchen-slash-cupboard in case biscuits might appear, cocked his head to one side and his tufty little eyebrows lifted in surprise. ‘I’ll be off then,’ Brody said firmly. ‘I don’t want to get in the way of—’

‘Nonsense! Alison would love to meet you. She nearly always buys those sorting cubes you make when each grandchild gets a little older, really raves about them…’ Moji closed the distance to the door.