I grew up in Norfolk, so setting The Love Note here felt natural to me. It’s a beautiful county with rural villages and easy access to the vast stretches of glorious coastline.

Based in a fictional Norfolk village, The Love Note follows my main character, Maggie, as she sets about sorting the family home after her mother’s death. There, Maggie finds her mother’s wedding dress—which she’d been told was missing—and hidden inside are love letters written in French.

Maggie enlists the help of Nick, an old school crush, to help her decipher the letters and hopefully find her missing father. And one of my favourite scenes is where Nick asks for a favour in return.

He picks Maggie up in a battered old Volvo

‘So,’ I say, clicking my belt on, ‘where are we heading and what’s the big secret?’

Nick laughs and throws his arm over my seat to reverse back out onto the quiet country lane.

‘No secret,’ he says, his tongue between his teeth as he concentrates, ‘If there’s one thing you need to know about me, Maggie, it’s that I’m not a massive social communicator. No social media, very few texts.’

Nick winds down his window and I do the same. It’s the first week of September and the air is thick with the dust left behind from the combine harvesters. It whips through the car, sending my hair flapping all over the place.

As they drive on, Nick explains to Maggie that it’s his mum’s birthday, he needs help with the preparations, and they’re off to check out the venue.

He shifts gears and indicates to turn into an even smaller country lane where the grass verges seep onto the road and attack from both sides with long spindly fingers of soft wild wheat.

We park in front of an old barn with traditional Norfolk flint and red bricks which are somehow managing to hold themselves up despite their jaunty angle. A modern addition of floor-to-ceiling windows down one side give a view of the rustic interior.

When they head inside, Maggie gets carried away with ideas.

‘I can just imagine it lit up with a million fairy lights along the back wall, reflected in the window; tables with freshly picked wildflower bunches and candles in jars. I can picture your mum in a flower headdress like a giant daisy chain or a . . .’

I stop talking because in all my excitement of picturing the barn how I would love to see it, I realise I have no idea if Nick’s mum even likes flowers or if she gets bouts of hay fever that would mean she’d look like she was crying through her whole party if I cover the place in floral displays. Nick is staring at me, his face giving nothing away.

‘Sorry,’ I say, digging the toe of my ballet flat into a worn dip in the brick.

‘No, no that’s perfect. That’s exactly why you’re here.’ He is still watching me, and for a beat I watch him back.

He reaches into his pockets and hands me a small bag of pistachios.

He remembers.

I take them and thank him warily, remembering how I used to always have a bag of these with me at school to pick on throughout the day.

I love this scene, not only because I can lose myself in the Norfolk countryside, but also for the glimpse into the blossoming friendship between Nick and Maggie.

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