From the High Street, he could see the silhouette of Willowbury Hill a few miles further on, backlit by the sun and majestic in its dominant presence, even from this distance. Tourists flocked from miles around to climb the hill and experience the breathtaking views from the top. Willowbury also had its own ruined religious building, too – a priory that was destroyed during the Reformation, which was an increasing draw to tourists now the National Trust had acquired it.

Musing on this, he passed ComIncense, but clearly Holly hadn’t opened up yet as the shop front lights weren’t on. He glanced at his watch and realised it was only half past eight, and most of the shops that didn’t sell food and drink didn’t open until nine o’clock anyway. He tried not to imagine Holly padding around upstairs in her flat, perhaps making a coffee and going through her tasks for the day. An image flashed into his mind of Holly in a skimpy cotton nightgown, with her vivid red hair in a bed-tousled plait over one shoulder, the other fully revealed as a strap slipped down… He swallowed hard, chiding himself for letting his imagination get the better of him.

Letting himself into the office a few minutes later, he put his travel mug down on his desk and went through the diary for the day on his iPad. Tom had access to it, as did Helen, and both were proving adept at managing his constituency days beautifully. So long as he kept himself briefed on who was coming to visit, the logistics of the appointments were out of his hands. This suited Charlie perfectly as it allowed him to concentrate on the actual issues at hand.

Glancing down his list for the morning, he didn’t see anything too controversial or odd – a bit of noise pollution, a Rachel Jamieson coming in to discuss a health issue, and a meeting with the head of the local Chambers of Commerce about boosting tourism in the area. So far, so safe.

‘So if you could just see fit to have a word with him, I’d be ever so grateful,’ the little old lady in front of Charlie’s desk continued. ‘Only I don’t know how as I can go on like this with the blessed music blasting out night after night. My husband’s deaf, so it doesn’t bother him, but my hearing’s still as sharp as ever, and I really can’t get any sleep.’

Charlie felt a pang of sympathy for her. Mrs Garner lived in the middle of a row of local authority houses in Willowbury, which had a high turnover of tenants, except for her and her elderly husband, and the current tenants on one side were clearly being more than a little antisocial.