Libby and Noah were still sleeping soundly when Jo got up and showered. She poured herself a glass of orange juice – or, more accurately, half a glass of orange juice as that was all that was left in the carton. It did little to quench her thirst, so she downed a pint of cold water from the tap, before pushing open the windows to the flat and letting the fresh morning air in.

It was April and while she could still detect some freshness in the air, she guessed by looking out that it would turn into one of those blissful spring days where the sun would give a taster of what was to come later in the year.

It was likely to be a busy day at the pub, she reckoned. It was that time of year when winter was cast aside and people were itching to make use of the beer garden now that the sun brought a little warmth with it.

Jo liked working on days like these. The sun always brought a lighter mood to proceedings. People seemed happier. More content in themselves. She smiled as she breathed in a lungful of the fresh morning air, and then quickly realised – as her tummy rumbled loudly – that she was starving and needed to eat.

Tempted as she was to just raid the pub’s kitchen, where she knew Erin had fresh home-baked sourdough bread for her famous toasties, as well as plenty of bacon, she also knew she wasn’t brave enough to face her friend’s wrath if she meddled with her meticulously maintained stocks. One look would be all it would take for Erin to spot something was amiss and, never being able to lie to her friend convincingly, Jo knew she would be in big trouble.

Besides, a Sunday morning wouldn’t be a Sunday morning without a stroll down to see Harry, where she’d have a chat and pick up some of the Sunday papers for the pub too. It was a tradition she enjoyed – that early-morning chat when the shop was quiet.

Jo pulled her damp hair into a loose ponytail and glanced at herself in the mirror. She was presentable, if a little pale thanks to the late night, but she’d do. Slipping her feet into her Converse, she grabbed her purse, keys and jacket and set off with a spring in her step down the lane.

When she pushed open the door of Harry’s shop, she was surprised to see the chair, from which Harry normally held court, was empty. She glanced around, but the shop was most definitely uninhabited. A sudden fear swept over her – the memory of Harry’s heart attack still very fresh in her mind. She could easily recall the horrible sinking feeling in her stomach when she had arrived on the lane to see an ambulance outside the shop and heard that Harry had been found collapsed behind the counter.