We settled well into our new home over the next few weeks and I’d almost forgotten about the dark-haired man I had seen in our neighbour’s garden. Having been into the grocery store on a few occasions, I was now on nodding terms with many of the locals, which seemed like progress. At first we had felt like interlopers. Many of Avoncote’s residents had lived in the village all their lives, and their families went back for generations. They seemed slightly wary of newcomers.

The lively couple who ran the shop, Judy and Nick, were friendly and helpful. In their late forties, their children having flown the nest, they had moved into the area from the city two years earlier seeking a more sedate pace of life. Judy was fitness-conscious and stylish, in sharp contrast to Nick, who favoured oversized tracksuits to accommodate the expanding waistline that betrayed his love for ale and the tempting home-made desserts that could be found in their fresh chilled section. She would tease him mercilessly, but always in good humour and their affection for one another was obvious. They seemed well suited and their banter was entertaining. Judy had told me with a wink that people were just coming to terms with the fact that the shop was no longer run by old Mrs Cornish, who had retired to the coast after forty years’ tireless service to the community.

The shop had a small deli counter, which was filled with enticing products.

‘If we haven’t got what you want, do let us know and we’ll try to get it in for you,’ Judy told me on my first visit. ‘I know it’s not always convenient to have to drive into town, and we do our best to accommodate everyone if we can.’

Since becoming pregnant I’d developed a strong desire for smoked olives, which Reggie had introduced me to, and Nick had ordered me in a catering-sized jar of them. One Monday morning in June, having collected my much-anticipated goodies, I was leaving the shop clutching the huge jar when I almost collided with an auburn-haired girl of around my age. We had exchanged pleasantries on a few occasions. She was open-faced and seemed approachable, and I was keen to make a friend as, Mrs Barley and Judy aside, there wasn’t really anyone locally I had got to know beyond the nodding and smiling stage. At times I felt a little lost and missed Reggie, but she lived too far away, and was too busy to nip in for a coffee and catch-up as we used to.