I can only surmise that the wine and the sunshine have messed with our heads as, minutes later, we arrive in a straggly group, giddy and sniggering at the end of Andy’s road. As it’s not a part of town I visit often, I hadn’t realised that this street in particular is as charming as it is. Tucked away from the main thoroughfare, it’s a mixture of well-kept red sandstone tenement flats, a couple of traditional pubs and a row of cheerily painted shops. There’s a baker’s, an upmarket off-licence advertising gin tastings, a grocer’s and a quaint tea room, plus a specialist cheese shop, which is emitting a pungent aroma across the street.

‘That’s very … ripe, isn’t it?’ Isla remarks. ‘I mean, I love cheese but that’s seriously strong. Imagine working in there.’ As we cross the road towards it, I check the numbering system of the flats.

‘Andy’s flat’s directly above it!’ I announce.

Penny turns to me. ‘He lives above the cheese shop?’

‘Yes! Look – that’s number nineteen.’ I grin at her and her grey-blue eyes crinkle with delight.

‘Didn’t you once tell me he was obsessed with an imaginary cheese smell in the fridge, when you were in Paris?’

‘I did, yes.’

‘I remember that,’ Isla exclaims. ‘You were demented by the time you came back. Are you sure this is his address?’

‘It definitely is, absolutely.’

‘But why would he choose to live here,’ Penny adds, frowning, ‘if he’s hypersensitive to strong smells?’

‘God knows,’ I say as we make our way into the shop. It’s a beautiful store, with mirrored walls and hand-painted tiles, like an old-fashioned dairy, and the array of cheeses on display is literally breathtaking.

The young sales assistant smiles from behind the counter. ‘Can I help you with anything?’ she asks.

‘We were just, um, drawn in,’ I say, taking a big inhalation. ‘It smells amazing in here.’

‘If you love cheese, it does,’ the young woman concedes. ‘And it’s particularly pungent at the moment.’

‘Because of the weather?’ Shelley asks, managing to keep a straight face.

‘It’s more down to the varieties we have in just now,’ she explains. ‘There’s a few that vie for the word’s smelliest award and I’m proud to say we have them all.’

‘Ooh, which are they?’ Penny asks eagerly.

The shop assistant indicates the varieties all beautifully arranged on the counter before her. ‘That’s Brie de Meaux and this one’s a Vieux Boulogne, which is probably the strongest of all. Stinking Bishop is pretty pongy too. Would you like to try some samples?’

‘Yes please,’ I reply eagerly.