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Alyssa had been relieved Devan wasn’t wearing a too-small, stomach-flashing Save Hartglove T-shirt that morning – but perhaps she shouldn’t have been. Because it looked like things were about to get worse.

‘Dev, do you need overalls?’ said a young guy, who’d been working on one of the allotments. ‘Can’t get your good stuff dirty.’

Teijo had disappeared somewhere with his list, looking flustered. Alyssa wouldn’t mind betting he’d forgotten some supplies.

‘Cheers, Cole,’ said Devan, giving the guy a blokey arm clap as he handed him a pair of overalls.

Alyssa didn’t recognise Cole, although most of the people they’d grown up with had moved away for work or uni and had never come back. Maybe that was why the town wasn’t winning any awards for its love statistics. The youngsters had all got fed up and buggered off.

Devan was still smiling and chatting to anyone who passed, with an ease that was almost vexing when you weren’t so good at it.

Though what was he doing now? Alyssa willed her jaw not to drop. The man was peeling off his clothes as though he was in some sort of gym changing room. In front of half of the town, and a bunch of people with cameras. Really? Didn’t he get that overalls literally went over all? That was the actual point of them. You didn’t need to do a striptease.

God, he was probably one of those guys who posed around communal changing rooms and dried his pubes with a hairdryer.

Alyssa wanted to feel more irritated at his bravado – but as the situation unfolded, she was struggling not to giggle. He was naked from the waist up now, which was clearly unnecessary, but the cameras were loving it. She cocked her head. Talking of gyms, was he working out more these days? He didn’t used to have pecs that were quite so well-sculpted, nor abs that her gran could have scrubbed undies on. How did people get those, anyway? She’d once done sit-ups every morning for a whole week, and had got nothing, other than a strange twinging in her side.

‘Everything OK, Alyssa?’ Devan winked at her.

Damn, had she been staring? Well, it was his fault for parading around like a prize poodle. She willed her brain back to the pube drying image, which was safer all round.

‘Just thinking about …’ She searched for excuses. Pubes? Washboard stomachs? ‘Outfits! Such a shame I didn’t bring my garden wear.’ Was that what people called it? Who knew. She did her best to hold eye contact, because it was rude to look at people’s nipples.

‘I’ve got spare overalls at the shop,’ said a woman, from amid the throng. It was Jess, who’d served her in the convenience shop on Apple Blossom Lane a few times since she’d arrived here. ‘You don’t want to get your designer things ruined.’

Alyssa wasn’t about to say her designer clothes were vintage, if vintage meant cheap and pre-loved.

‘I’m fine, honestly,’ said Alyssa. It was easier not to ask for favours nor get too friendly.

‘Or I could pop home and get you something of mine?’ Pearl offered.

Alyssa tried not to visibly baulk.

‘I’ll go straight away,’ Jess replied, giving Alyssa a look that said nobody wants to dress like a lady who may or may not be your mother.

Alyssa’s relief was palpable. Now and again, the universe threw her a bone, amongst the shit bombs. Perhaps it was OK to accept this one.

‘That’s a shame,’ said Devan, who’d drawn close enough to whisper into Alyssa’s ear, his breath making her skin prickle. At least he had his overalls done up now, even if he shouldn’t be invading her space with his bothersome lips. ‘I would have loved to have seen you in one of Pearl’s floral trouser suits. Maybe that’s a task for later.’

‘You wish,’ she hissed back, still smiling for the cameras.

These tasks might be hideous, but she could at least enjoy a touch of ribbing. Let the garden games begin.