As the dancer turned around, Charlie noticed her clear-blue eyes, the pale skin and the long, messily tied-back auburn hair, tendrils escaping to soften the high cheekbones and the slightly pointed nose. A large, generous mouth, probably captivating when it smiled fully, was curled up slightly at the edges as she looked him briefly up and down.

‘It’s Holly,’ the woman replied, seemingly not embarrassed in the slightest by the fact she’d been sprung swaying to some highly suspect soundtrack during business hours, not to mention slagging off the local MP to his face. Well, almost. Not that she knew that, of course. ‘And you are?’ She glanced down to her phone and slid the volume control down a notch or three, to a more sociable level, before putting it back on the shop counter.

‘Charlie Thorpe.’ He extended a hand and tried not to look too closely at the one she offered in return, which appeared to have traces of nicotine staining on the fingertips. ‘I’m just doing a quick tour of the local, er, businesses to introduce myself.’

‘Why? Are you the new manager of the pub?’ Holly asked, having clocked his looking-but-not-looking glance at her fingertips and the way he dropped his hand immediately after he’d shaken hers. She was surprised he didn’t wipe his hand on his jeans, he seemed so put off. She thought about explaining that she’d been hand-dyeing some fabric out the back in a strong turmeric solution but didn’t bother. He probably wouldn’t have got it anyway; from the looks of his clothes, he was more of a designer guy. The crisp white shirt, open at the neck and the dark blue, slim but not skinny jeans with a tan belt looked suspiciously expensive. As did the boots he was wearing. Somehow, she doubted that they were vegan leather…

‘Not exactly,’ Charlie smiled what he hoped was a winning smile. ‘I’m the new Member of Parliament for the area.’

Charlie felt a stab of satisfaction as Holly’s cheeks flushed slightly, clashing with her hair. Clearly she hadn’t expected to be overheard in her vocal criticisms of him and his new job.

‘So, you’re the one taking over from Fingers-in-the-till Fitzgerald, are you? Good luck with that.’