Today I was spared from interrogation as she was soon chatting to another customer. She introduced me to Joe Clancy, owner of the aptly named Clancy’s, one of Avarna’s four pubs.

‘And did you hear Tommy Ford’s wife had a baby girl?’ said Joe. ‘I’m not sure what they called her…’

‘Chloe Louise, eight pounds twelve ounces, big head of brown hair,’ said Mary as she stared at the open window, daring another wasp to fly through it. The shop was uncomfortably warm, as was everywhere in the village during that unusually hot summer.

‘Here’s hoping she gets her looks from her mother,’ said Joe. ‘That fella Tommy has a face like a melted welly.’

‘You’re terrible,’ said Mary with a laugh.

I smiled to myself. You couldn’t help liking Mary, in spite of her knack for getting information out of everyone who came into the shop.

‘Anyway, I better be off,’ said Joe. He sauntered out with an ice-cream cone in his hand and a folded newspaper tucked under his elbow.

I checked the selection of biscuits, searching for my favourites.

‘Nick!’ shouted Mary. There was silence. ‘Nick!’ she bellowed again. A few moments later her son emerged from the storeroom in the back with a copy of Kerrang! magazine in his hand and a disgruntled look on his face. Although I’d heard a lot about him from Mary, this was the first time I’d seen him. He was tall and slim and wore faded blue denims and a black T-shirt. His brown hair was quite long and curled across his forehead. As he came towards us I could see his striking blue eyes and that he had a few freckles on his cheeks. His arms were strong and tanned.

One syllable echoed silently inside my head: Wow. Nick was gorgeous, even with that grumpy look on his face.

‘Nick, I have to go to the wholesaler’s, so stay behind the counter, will you?’ said Mary. She mustn’t have realized we hadn’t been introduced.