‘Who was that?’ Rachel came carefully down the steep stairs from Holly’s flat to the shop floor carrying two mugs and a teapot on a wooden tray. ‘Looked fit from behind, whoever he was.’

Holly shook her head. ‘You should get out more.’ Taking the mug from the tray once Rachel had poured some tea into it, she sipped the strong, re-energising tea.

‘So, who was it?’

Holly felt her cheeks warm a little as she recalled the slightly awkward encounter. ‘That was Charlie Thorpe, the new MP for Willowbury and Stavenham.’

‘Wow, really? I hope he didn’t hear you slagging him off,’ Rachel grinned. ‘I mean, that would have been… awkward.’ She paused, catching sight of her sister’s expression. ‘He heard you, didn’t he?’

Holly grinned. ‘From the way he couldn’t wait to get out of here, I assume he did!’ She took another gulp of her tea. ‘I don’t care. He needs to know that some of us aren’t just going to give him the easy ride that Hugo Fitzgerald had. He’s going to have to work to represent us.’

‘Oh, hark at you!’ Rachel teased. ‘Sounds like he’s bringing out your militant side already. Not that it needs any encouragement, of course.’ Holly had taken part in several high-profile Green Party demonstrations over the years, and was known as a bit of a rabble-rouser, as well as a keen supporter of local Green initiatives. She’d organised several litter picks and recycling runs in the town since taking on the shop and was known to wince every time she saw a discarded plastic bag or bottle blowing in the breeze. An ethical eater, her love of a good bacon sandwich meant she couldn’t quite become fully vegetarian, but she tried to source her food as locally and organically as possible. Outside, in the small courtyard behind the shop, she had a raised bed that was packed full of aromatics and herbs, which she cooked fresh when she could and dried and stored in jars for the winter months.

‘I just don’t like seeing someone getting something for nothing,’ Holly muttered.

‘What, you mean like we did?’ Rachel reminded Holly gently. They’d been the joint beneficiaries of their paternal grandfather’s will; the money had been in trust until they both reached adulthood. While their father had initially raised an eyebrow about Holly’s business venture, he couldn’t dispute the fact that the shop made money, however improbably, and he was justifiably proud of the path she’d taken. Rachel, the more conventional sister, had put most of hers into buying a home for herself and Harry after her divorce.