Page 51 of Winter Nights at the Bay Bookshop

The Christmas elf was about eight inches high with fairy lights around its neck.

Santa’s list was draped over one arm, partly checked, but the elf was evidently more interested in the open book in his other hand.

As Lily gave him pride of place on the mantelpiece, my thoughts turned to the books I was going to leave out this Christmas.

I always aimed for one last gifting on 12 December because it was the first day of the Icelandic Advent but also my birthday.

Bad weather often meant gifting a day or two either side of the 12th as, even though I put the books in protective bags, there was no point putting any out in the rain – very few people around and too much risk of damage.

This year I’d be late. The 12th fell on the Friday of Cassie and Jared’s wedding and I’d be working on the Saturday but I’d leave them out on the Sunday, weather permitting.

I’d decided that every book would give a clue as to my identity.

Although the general public wouldn’t have a chance of guessing, the books would mean something to Lily.

I was dying to share my secret with her but I wanted the reveal to be exciting and romantic.

From everything Lily had told me about Ewan and Wes, they’d never done anything romantic for her and I wanted to show her that she was worth it.

I’d almost finalised the books I was going to gift and the last one would be a massive giveaway – Anna and the Snow Dragon , which I’d bought last week while Lily was on a break.

Decorating done, we settled down with a well-earned cuppa and the conversation turned to Christmas Day.

Nanna had admitted that Geraldine and Hilary had asked her to join them for Christmas dinner at Bay View, and she hadn’t liked to accept for fear of me being on my own.

I’d told her to confirm her plans with her friends and I’d see her at some point that day or, if not, we’d definitely get together on Boxing Day.

Lily had since officially invited me to spend the day with her family but Marcus and Shelby wanted to tell me themselves how welcome I was.

‘But we should also warn you it’ll be chaos,’ Shelby added. ‘We’ll understand if you need to retreat to Green Gables to get the ringing out of your ears.’

I was looking forward to it. Bit nervous, perhaps, but it would be good to be part of a big family Christmas for once.

Lily said there was something she wanted to show me in the annexe so we said our goodbyes and headed over there. The first thing she did when we closed the door was kiss me.

‘I’ve been dying to do that all night,’ she said, ‘but I’m also dying to show you this. Close your eyes.’

She took my hands and led me into the lounge area, eased me down onto the chair, and released my hands when I was settled.

‘If you hate it or if I’ve got it completely wrong, please say so. I won’t be offended.’

‘Okay. Sounds intriguing.’

I could hear her moving about but that didn’t give me any clues.

When she declared I could open my eyes, she was standing by the sofa and the throw she’d had draped over the back of it was now opened out and covering something, but there were just a few lumps and bumps so it evidently wasn’t very big.

‘Until you started working at the shop, I never really thought about Christmas in other countries,’ she said.

‘Obviously I’ve picked up some things from books, TV and films but I’ve never really delved into it.

It’s been fascinating learning about Christmas in Iceland which got me thinking that other people would probably be interested and what if we devoted a section of our Christmas window display each year to a different country?

We would, of course, start with, dah dah dah! ’

She pulled back a section of the throw to reveal the Icelandic national flag – a blue field with a white-bordered off-centre red cross.

‘That flag looks vaguely familiar,’ I said, touched by the gesture.

‘Someone told me that thirteen Yule Lads make their annual trip down from the mountains, one at a time, starting with this fella on the 12th…’

She pulled back the throw a little further and I gasped at a fantastic canvas painting of Stekkjarstaur, the ‘Sheep-Cote Clod’ who liked to creep into the sheep cote and drink milk directly from the ewes’ udders.

‘You drew him? Lily! I knew you were creative but I didn’t realise you were an artist too.’

She grinned. ‘Are you saying the bearded Mary didn’t give it away earlier?’ She lifted off the rest of the throw, revealing the next two Yule Lads. ‘I have to say, they’re a peculiar bunch.’

‘With dubious eating habits,’ I agreed, getting up and marvelling at her brilliant drawings.

Giljagaur the ‘Gully Gawk’ visited on the 13th.

Despite being the biggest and strongest, he was shy and preferred not to be seen so he made his descent through deep, dark canyons or gullies covered in thick snow where he knew he wouldn’t meet anyone.

He also loved milk but chose cows over ewes and preferred to slurp the foam after they were freshly milked.

The visitor on the 14th – Stúfur the ‘Stubby’ – was, by contrast, the smallest (or stubbiest) of the brothers and his preference was for licking the burnt leftovers in the bottom of pans.

Pia had found him particularly hilarious because she couldn’t imagine why anyone would bother to make the long journey down the mountains just to snack on burnt leftovers.

‘These are fantastic,’ I said, hugging Lily to my side. ‘Thank you.’

‘I thought I’d better not draw the rest until I’d checked you were okay with it.’

‘I’m more than okay with it. This is the best thing anyone has ever done for me.’

‘I thought we could put two easels up in the window each day on top of the mini bookshelves – one with the painting and another with their name and story. I can take photos of the pictures and type up the stories for people in the shop to look through if they miss them in the window and then, of course, we’ll build up to Jólabókaflóe but I’m going to make that your project.

Have a think about how we can celebrate it in the shop. ’

I still hadn’t asked Freyja what Icelandic bookshops did to celebrate Jólabókaflóe so I’d do that on Sunday when I rang her to confirm I’d definitely visit Iceland in the spring.

‘I can’t thank you enough,’ I said, hugging Lily tightly.

‘Anything for you. I’m interested in your culture because I’m interested in you. Always have been, always will be.’

I felt like a jólabarn for the first time since that final Christmas with Pia and it was all thanks to Lily. Her granddad had definitely been right about her sprinkling magic dust on everything.