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A sweet citrus scent filled the air as Holly weighed out the sherbet lemons.

‘That will be one pound twenty, please,’ she said as she handed the bag to the customer. Not that she needed to say the price. Mrs Heggings had the same order of sherbet lemons every time she came in. Which was always on a Thursday, always before midday and always after a cup of coffee at the tearoom on the green. She was so regular that Holly could have pre-packed her sweets ready for her visit, the same way she could for so many of her customers who made visiting Just One More part of their weekly routine, but she didn’t want to be presumptuous. Besides, she liked the conversations they had while she was fetching the jars and filling the bags. They made her feel like she was part of the community. Which she definitely was. Ten years of running a sweet shop in the centre of a village like Bourton-on-the-Water would do that for you.

‘I hope this weather makes up its mind soon,’ Mrs Heggings said as she handed Holly the money. ‘You know, I left this morning with a thick jumper and a coat on, and look at it now. It’s stunning. Like summer came two months early. But they say it’s going to be showers this afternoon. Even with a sky as clear as that one out there.’

Weather was always a hot topic of conversation in the sweet shop, and often a source of complaint for many regulars, but Holly would listen and nod along like she agreed, because she knew that sometimes, it wasn’t about the weather at all. It was about the customers feeling like someone was listening to them. Which was what she always tried to do. Provided the queue behind them wasn’t too long.

‘I’ll take all the sunny days I can get,’ Holly said. ‘But I don’t mind the odd shower now and then. It drives the customers in.’

Mrs Heggings laughed. ‘Well, I better get a move on,’ she said, dropping her sweets into her wicker basket. ‘I don’t want it to start raining before I get home. Have a lovely weekend.’

‘You too,’ Holly said.

As Mrs Heggings headed to the door, the next customer stepped forward.

‘Can I get a quarter of pear drops and a half of butterscotch?’ he asked. Mr Peterson was another regular, although one who liked to vary his choice in boiled sweets now and then.

‘Absolutely,’ Holly said. ‘Let me just grab those for you.’

As Holly moved across the shop, he carried on talking.

‘So, any exciting plans this weekend? Are you doing anything nice with that wonderful daughter of yours?’

‘Well, I’m in the shop tomorrow,’ Holly replied. ‘She’s with her dad, but we’ve got a lovely family day planned on Sunday with our friends.’

‘Sounds wonderful. You know, it won’t be long until she’s old enough to help you here.’

‘No,’ Holly agreed as she placed the jars of sweets on the counter ready to weigh out, ‘it won’t. I can’t believe how quickly the time has gone.’

She’d often used that expression in the past, particularly when talking about busy summers in the shop or holidays that felt as though they had whizzed past, but it wasn’t until she’d had Hope that she realised how true it was. Time moved so quickly now. Somehow, her daughter had just turned seven years old. Seven. It felt like only yesterday she had been a tiny baby. Or a toddler flushing her toy rabbits down the toilet. Of course, it would be a long time before she could actually work in the shop with Holly, but she liked nothing more than coming in after school and helping straighten up the shelves and, obviously, testing a fair bit of the produce too.

As Holly weighed out the pear drops, her eyes fell on the diamond ring that sparkled on her finger. Over half a decade had passed since Evan had died, but she still wore the ring on her finger. In some ways, it felt like that was the only thing which had stayed the same. Her life had changed so much since then.

Hope had started school; that was a big adjustment, particularly for Holly’s mother, who had spent so much time looking after her while Holly worked. Her father had retired. Holly had employed two new members of staff and, on the more personal side of things, had sold the house that she and Evan had renovated together. Even though she knew selling up and downsizing made sense, she had gone back and forth for over a year after his death, trying to work out the right thing to do. The house held so many memories for her, and selling it felt like she was letting all of those go. But it was a strange twist of fate that suddenly made the decision that much easier.

Ben, Hope’s dad, had wanted to buy a place with his girlfriend, Georgia, which meant selling his three-bed house that was right next door to Jamie’s place. At that point, Jamie had three children under three – the twins having been a very exciting surprise – and she and Holly had been leaning on one another for support more than ever. It all felt so serendipitous that she thought Ben was just selling up for her sake, but after several serious conversations about work and so on, she knew that wasn’t the case. Now she had been living there for almost four years, and she couldn’t be happier.

As she took Mr Peterson’s payment, Holly readied herself to serve the next person in the queue when a voice rang out from the back of the shop.

‘I’m so sorry I’m late, Holly. There are blooming roadworks. I knew I shouldn’t’ve taken the car. I should’ve just walked, but I thought it would be easier to pick the kids up later, given all the blooming clubs they need driving to. But of course, I couldn’t find a car parking space.’

Caroline was slipping on her blue and white striped apron as she spoke, hurrying her way through the customers around Holly to the till.

‘I’ll take over,’ she said. ‘You haven’t had a break yet.’

It was true – Holly had been in the shop since nine o’clock, and it was now two thirty, but somehow she didn’t seem to mind that much. Some days, talking to customers like Mr Peterson and other regulars just felt like a day chatting with friends. But as her stomach growled, she knew she probably had to get something to eat.

‘That would be great, if you’re sure?’

‘No problem at all,’ Caroline said before shifting her attention from Holly to the customer. ‘Ever so sorry about that. What can I get you?’

As Caroline carried on serving, Holly headed up the stairs. She had just reached the small stockroom, packed floor to ceiling with bags and boxes of sweets, when her phone rang. Giles’s name flashed up on the screen.

There was no need for a surname. Giles Caverty, who was once a nemesis and now one of her very best friends, was the only Giles in her life. It was rare that she would go a week without seeing him, and she normally spoke to him most days too, but that tended to be in the evening rather than the middle of the day, when he knew she was likely working. Still, she picked up the phone and answered the call.

‘Hey, what’s up?’