Holly glanced at the clock and realised Charlie was due any minute. Swearing under her breath, she debated the options. Her living room was very open, but there were enough crevices for a rodent to hide, and while she wasn’t squeamish, the thought of a mouse running over her feet at an unwary moment made her skin crawl. She could close the door to the flat temporarily, but there were gaps under her doors that a mouse might easily slip under. The last thing she needed was it loose in ComIncense. There were far too many tasty things for it to nibble on down there, not least the expensive artisan beeswax candles she stocked from a local supplier near Wells. Nor would a free-ranging mouse be the most inviting sight for her customers.

The bell over the front door of the shop tinkled and Holly’s heart quickened.

‘Charlie, is that you?’ Holly called.

‘Yes, it’s me,’ a voice returned her enquiry. ‘Are you OK?’

‘Can you drop the latch on the front door, and flip the sign then come up here for a sec?’ Holly replied. Charlie was a few minutes early, after all, and four hands would be better than two for catching the recalcitrant rodent.

‘Sure, OK.’ Charlie sounded intrigued, but the clunk of the catch of the front door showed he’d done what she’d asked.

Holly heard his footsteps coming up the back stairs to her flat and felt even more irritated by the loose mouse. In a few moments, Charlie was at her door.

‘What are you doing?’ Charlie’s voice was laced with amusement as it wafted from the open door of the flat.

‘Close the door, quickly!’ Holly hissed from over by the sofa, from which she’d removed the colourful throws so that she could see underneath it. She was holding the dustpan from the shop and was peering under the sofa, watching intently.

Doing as he was told, Charlie pushed the door shut and padded over to the sofa.

‘Can I help?’ he asked. ‘Are you looking for something?’

‘Arthur brought in a mouse just now,’ Holly muttered. ‘And, being the considerate soul that he is, he decided to show it to me before he polished it off, but because he’s so old, and his teeth are a bit crap, he dropped it and it escaped before he could catch it again. And I’ve cornered it to this part of the room, but the last thing I want is to let it loose downstairs – there’s too much for it to feast on down there.’

‘I’m sure I’ve got a spare mousetrap at home,’ Charlie offered. ‘The town house was riddled with the buggers when I moved in, but a colleague suggested peanut butter in a trap; worked every time.’