Holly closed the shop after a relatively successful day’s trading and headed up the stairs to the flat she lived in above the shop. Having bought the freehold of the building with her inheritance, she had taken time to make both the shop and her home exactly as she wanted them to be, and she even had the benefit of a small, enclosed garden at the back of the property, where she would sit out sometimes, and, in good weather, lead the odd meditation or yoga session. A haven of peace and serenity, the garden was footed by a large, ancient horse chestnut tree, which Holly occasionally called in the local tree surgeon to prune, and under whose boughs she could conduct her meditations and sit and read in the warmer months.

Tonight, though, she needed to get inside and feed the mewing ball of ginger fur that was weaving in and out of her ankles on the way up the stairs.

‘Arthur!’ She chided as the cat skittered in front of her again. ‘If I break my neck on these steps, you’ll only have me to eat, and I’m not sure you’ll enjoy that.’

Arthur turned at the sound of her voice, gave her a withering look and then bounded ahead to the kitchen, to where his bowls resided in the corner. Giving a hungry yowl, he sprung up on his hind legs and dug his claws playfully into the back of Holly’s knees as she pulled down the cat food from the cupboard.

‘Is it any wonder I can’t wear short skirts, with you lacerating my legs at every opportunity?’ Holly reached down and gave the cat a playful tap on the nose. She filled his bowl with food and then, mission accomplished, Arthur turned his back and began to devour his dinner.

Turning her mind to her encounter with Charlie Thorpe as she prepared her own food, Holly was irritated to feel another blush creeping up her cheeks. It hadn’t exactly been her finest hour, she conceded, although she’d never been one to hide her true feelings. Her father always said that she and Rachel would have made the perfect child if combined; Rachel was diplomatic, and perhaps a little too self-effacing, whereas Holly spoke her mind at every available opportunity, and had done since she was knee high to a grasshopper. Her mouth had got her into hot water more than once in her youth, and while she’d learned to think before she spoke most of the time these days, she was still prone to being more honest than was good for her when she was rattled or irritated.