‘Excuse me.’ Holly tried to push past Miles, in pursuit of her borrowed pashmina, but he refused to budge.

‘Don’t you think it’s just a little bit rich of you, coming here tonight to schmooze the local business owners, when you’re so uppity about those of us who don’t conform to your so-called eco principles?’

‘Not really, Miles,’ Holly’s temper was starting to fray, but, mindful that this was Charlie’s patch, and Charlie’s night, she tried to keep her voice neutral. ‘Now I must be going.’

‘Not so fast, girly,’ Miles hissed. ‘I’m not finished yet.’ His face was puce with drink, his purple nose an unattractive, clashing shade. ‘You’d better not get any ideas about bending Charlie Thorpe’s ear to your Green-freak ideas. We don’t need any more of that rubbish in Willowbury.’

‘Well, you would say that, Miles,’ Holly’s voice was louder than she’d have liked, but she couldn’t help it. She wouldn’t let herself be walked over by Miles, especially after such a civilised night. ‘So long as you’re turning a profit, you couldn’t care less what, or who you damage, could you?’ Rumours were rife about the reasons why Fairbrothers had such a high turnover of staff and exactly how they disposed of their waste products.

‘Just remember, missy, it’s people like me who bankroll the campaigns of your new boyfriend. Without us, he wouldn’t have half the influence he has. You’d do well to bear that in mind.’

‘Are you threatening me? Because that’s what it sounds like.’ Holly lost what was left of her temper. ‘I might have known twats like you couldn’t help muscling in on nights like this. Well, you can leave me out of it.’ She pushed past Miles and retrieved her pashmina and handbag.

Miles put up a hand, in a patronising gesture that infuriated Holly even further. ‘No need to start calling me names, Miss Renton. I was merely having a chat.’

‘Oh, fuck off,’ Holly said mutinously. ‘You’ve been trying to get me thrown out of my shop ever since I bought it.’

Miles affected innocence, and for a moment, Holly wondered why. Then it clicked. Like a sixth sense, she knew that someone was standing right behind her.

‘Charlie’s waiting for you in the foyer, Holly,’ Tom Fielding’s voice, smooth and soothing, took the tension off the exchange. ‘Miles, can I buy you another drink?’

Miles glared one last time at Holly

‘Shall we, Holly?’ another voice said softly. It was Charlie, who’d obviously clocked what was happening and had hotfooted it back from the foyer to Tom’s side.