by Fay Keenan
As a student, she’d been glued to the weekly parliamentary soap opera on the radio, the way that other students had watched Neighbours, and to see it unfolding live in front of her was a real treat. All of the big beasts were there, and although she knew that it was primarily a forum for public broadcasting rather than policy these days, she couldn’t help but feel a frisson of excitement, seeing the Prime Minister, the Home Secretary, the Chancellor of the Exchequer and their shadow counterparts sitting opposite them on the benches.
But time after time her gaze was drawn back to Charlie, sitting patiently, waiting his turn. He probably didn’t realise that when he was nervous his right foot tapped slightly. Apart from that, though, he seemed remarkably composed. She felt as though she was willing him on in a race as the third and fourth questions were asked. The fifth, on funding for Early Years Centres, generated howls of derision at the PM’s response, and for a long, agonising moment, the voice of the Speaker fought to retain order in the chamber. Holly held her breath.
‘Charlie Thorpe!’ the Speaker cut over the top of the rabble-rousing of the chamber and Holly watched, still holding her breath, as Charlie got to his feet.
‘Thank you, Mr Speaker.’ Charlie took a split second to wait for the last of the chatter to die down. ‘Since I moved into the beautiful West Country constituency of Willowbury and Stavenham, I have got to know the people who have made the place their home. Among them is the family of three-year-old Harry Jamieson, born with cystic fibrosis, who currently takes a cocktail of drugs and inhales a series of nebulisers every single day of his young life in order to stem the effects of the condition.’ Charlie paused, even though the chamber, seemingly out of respect for the issue, had fallen silent. ‘Does the Prime Minster agree that it is time to re-evaluate the position of the NHS in regard to the funding of next generation of cystic fibrosis drugs, and enter into further discussions with the pharmaceutical companies, so that Harry and patients like him could have the possibility of a healthier, more extended life?’
As the ‘hear hears’ echoed around the chamber, from both sides of the benches, Holly’s heart thumped.
‘I thank the Honourable Gentleman for his question,’ the Prime Minister said as the noise died away. ‘And I sympathise with the position of the constituents of which he speaks so eloquently. I will ensure the Department of Health and Social Care looks into the reasons for this stalemate and responds as soon as possible.’
Holly let out her breath. It was a standard response, that was for sure, but she couldn’t help but hope it meant more than it appeared to. After all, raising the issue so publicly had to be good for something. She’d known full well that the Prime Minister wouldn’t wave a magic wand, but she hoped, somehow, that she’d just witnessed a metaphorical one.
As the next speaker was called, Holly looked back towards Charlie. His expression was carefully composed and gave nothing away. She hoped that he’d be able to interpret the Prime Minister’s response later when they met. She, certainly, was none the wiser.
36
Holly waited nervously out in the lobby, dodging journalists and MPs meeting guests and escaping for lunch. Charlie had said he’d meet her here and give her the keys to his flat, so she could freshen up before their dinner date. She felt such a combination of emotions, having seen Charlie acquit himself with grace and panache on the chamber floor. Not a trace of nerves had marred his voice as he’d risen and asked his question, and her heart nearly burst with pride. If Harry and Rachel had been in the audience, Charlie had planned to refer the House’s attention to them, but since they weren’t, he’d avoided drawing attention to Holly; it wouldn’t have had quite the same impact, and may well have put him off his stride.
The lobby was a hive of activity, but eventually Holly saw Charlie heading out of the chamber and across the hall towards her. He was deep in conversation with a woman, who was smiling at him and obviously congratulating him on his debut, resting her hand briefly on his upper arm to make a point. Holly felt a slight prickle of jealousy before she hastily quashed it; it was daft to feel anything like that when Charlie was clearly just being professional. It was all part of the act, she knew. Perhaps it was the parliamentary setting, but just for a moment she suddenly felt like the student rep she’d been fifteen years ago when, as part of the conference she’d attended, she’d visited this place. It had felt intimidating then, and although she had a more personal connection now, that sense of her own insignificance hadn’t really gone away.
‘Holly!’ Charlie spotted her and hurried over, with the woman he’d been talking to following in his wake. Aware that they were in public, Holly resisted the urge to fling her arms around him in congratulation and settled for giving him a kiss on the cheek.
‘Well done,’ she breathed into his ear. ‘You were absolutely brilliant.’
Charlie smiled broadly as they broke apart. ‘Thank you. And thanks so much for coming.’ He turned to the woman who was standing next to him. ‘Holly, this is Sally Okeden, who runs one of the bigger cystic fibrosis charities. I dropped her a line to see if she wanted to come down today as well. Given your campaigning on Harry’s behalf, I thought it might be useful if you two connected.’
Holly shook the other woman’s hand, suddenly feeling much warmer towards her now she knew who she was. ‘It’s lovely to meet you.’
‘You too,’ Sally replied. ‘I’ve seen your picture on Twitter a few times – you’ve been making the cause really visible lately, even without Charlie’s help here.’
‘It’s all for my nephew Harry,’ Holly said. ‘Although having Charlie to support us really helps. Our old MP wasn’t what you’d call helpful at all.’
Sally smiled. ‘Make use of him while you can,’ she said, glancing in Charlie’s direction. ‘Allies in this game can be short-lived.’
Holly felt a strange chill down her spine. She knew that politics was an ever-shifting landscape, but she still hoped that Charlie wouldn’t just cut and run if things became unfashionable. For Harry’s sake, she hoped her instincts were right, and not just clouded by emotion.
‘I’ll be in touch,’ Sally said. Turning back to Charlie, she smiled. ‘Thanks again. It was a brave move today, and it will bring us some much-needed coverage.’ Smiling at them both, she headed off.
When they were alone, apart from the toing and froing of other MPs and visitors, Holly asked the question that had been bugging her since Charlie’s stint at PMQs. ‘What’s really going to happen now?’
Charlie smiled briefly. ‘Well, we’ve given the issue a really big platform, and we should expect some kind of communication from the PM’s office or the Department of Health and Social Care soon. What that will be is anybody’s guess, but the drug companies will, in all likelihood, take some note of the issue being raised here today. We just have to wait.’
‘Waiting again,’ Holly said, knowing that a trace of her frustration was betrayed in her voice. ‘It seems to be the name of the game.’
‘I’m sorry I can’t be more definite, Holly,’ Charlie murmured. ‘But we’ve made a start.’
‘I know.’ Reaching up on tiptoe, she brushed her lips with his. ‘And I do appreciate it.’ She smiled. ‘Are you a free agent now?’
Charlie shook his head. ‘I’ve got back-to-back meetings until about six p.m., but after that, I’m all yours, if you want me.’ He moved a little closer to her.
‘Sounds good,’ Holly replied. She took the keys to the flat and, looking around quickly, gave him another kiss. ‘I’ll see you later.’
‘I’m not sure I’ll make it back to the flat in time. Shall I meet you at the restaurant?’
‘OK,’ Holly replied. ‘Where did you have in mind?’
‘I’ll text you,’ Charlie said, a hint of mystery in his eyes.
‘Any dress code?’
‘I’m tempted to say a turn-of-the-millennium cocktail dress, since the last time we met in London, that’s what you were wearing, but I’ll leave it up to you!
’ Charlie said.
Holly giggled. ‘So, I wasn’t the only one thinking about it, then?’
‘It had crossed my mind.’ Leaning in for one last quick, snatched kiss, Charlie walked away, leaving Holly on her own in the lobby once more.
‘He’s a good one, that one, and definitely one to watch,’ a voice nearby said in an undertone. Holly turned just as the Speaker of the House passed by and her eyes met his briefly. She smiled and hoped the Speaker was right. After all, time was the one thing Harry couldn’t rely on.
37
‘This takes me back,’ Holly said softly. They were walking hand in hand through a moonlit cityscape. They’d had a lovely dinner in one of the many restaurants around Covent Garden, and now, as they meandered back, in no particular direction but heading vaguely towards Charlie’s tiny rented flat in Farringdon, Holly was assailed by snatches of memory, as well as a feeling that she was creating her future. It was an odd sensation. She felt at once like a teenager and a grown woman; would being with Charlie always give her that slightly alarming sense of duality? she wondered.
As they approached the Royal Opera House, its stone a silvery grey in the moonlight, Holly squeezed Charlie’s hand a little more tightly. ‘Do you remember walking here back then? On that night? I didn’t have a clue where we were, or at least, where we were in relation to the hotel I was staying in, but you seemed to know where we were going.’
‘Can I let you into a secret?’ Charlie pulled her closer as they paused to look up at the austere frontage of the Opera House. ‘I didn’t have a bloody clue, either! I was massively blagging it. On the one hand, I wanted to walk around with you all night, and on the other, I was desperately hoping a convenient taxi would pass that would be able to take us to the door of that flipping hotel.’
Holly laughed. ‘You hid it so well. No wonder you grew up to be a politician!’
‘I grew up in the north, as you well know,’ Charlie smiled wryly. ‘I didn’t know London from Lisbon at that point. But I really wanted to stay with you as long as I could.’
‘You were very sweet to see me back to the hotel,’ Holly said, tilting her head up for a kiss. ‘Especially since you were staying in completely the opposite direction, weren’t you?’
‘I think so,’ Charlie replied. ‘I can’t honestly remember. All I remember from that night is you.’
‘And yet how soon we both forgot,’ Holly heaved a mock sigh of regret, then grinned. ‘Probably just as well. We’d most likely have made a complete hash of it and been far too embarrassed to make eye contact the next morning!’
‘Can you imagine?’ Charlie laughed. ‘I didn’t really know one end of a girl from the other back then and you looked terrified when I kissed you on the dance floor in that club.’
‘Thanks,’ Holly said wryly. ‘Although you’re pretty much spot on, there. I’d only actually had one serious boyfriend at that point.’
‘Age and experience is definitely a good thing,’ Charlie replied, a husky note in his voice. ‘Do you fancy making use of it now?
‘How could I refuse an offer like that?’ Holly poked him in the ribs playfully.
With that, they wandered back to Farringdon, Charlie’s flat and a very warm bed.
The next morning, Holly, unaccustomed to the early-morning city traffic, woke early. She smiled as she saw the curve of Charlie’s back, turned towards her as he slept soundly. Stretching like a cat, she smiled as she remembered what had happened after they’d reached the flat, both of them suddenly high on the novelty of being in London together and not having to be apart. The sun was peering through the crack in the curtains, and for a moment Holly just luxuriated in the warmth of the bed and the sensations of waking up.
This wouldn’t do for long, though; she had a train to catch back to Willowbury and a shop to run. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she stretched her arms above her head and then swept down to touch her toes, feeling the muscles in her back waking up as her spine extended. She stayed there for a moment, breathing deeply, before straightening up and pushing her arms out to the side, feeling the pull in her shoulder blades as she breathed.
‘Naked yoga? Is that something available in Willowbury, too?’ Charlie’s sleepy but amused voice cut into her mind, which she was trying to clear, and she smiled.
‘It’s not something I currently offer,’ she replied, turning unselfconsciously towards the bed, ‘but if you think there might be a market for it…’
‘Don’t you dare,’ Charlie said, grabbing one of her hands and pulling her back down to the bed. ‘I’d like to think that worshipping that exquisite body of yours is something I can do in private, thank you.’
‘I’m sure that can be arranged,’ Holly murmured as she flung a thigh around him, straddling him. ‘After all, this is as good a workout as yoga.’
Charlie brought his hands to her hips as she guided him inside her, and soon, the combination of his pleasurably persistent fingertips and thrusting rhythms had her gasping and on the edge.
‘Do you have to go back to Willowbury today?’ he asked between thrusts, head thrown back and eyes half closed in ecstasy.
‘Yup,’ Holly replied, ‘my shop won’t run itself, and you’ve got a job to do, too, remember.’
‘How could I forget?’ Charlie’s voice was getting breathier as he tried, and failed, to focus on her voice rather than her body. Holly felt another surge of heat as she saw how close he was to losing control. ‘But I’ll be… home… tonight.’ He lost the battle.
As she toppled over the edge of her own precipice, throbbing and beating in time to Charlie’s own rhythm, Holly felt that she, too, was finally coming home.
38
Charlie couldn’t stop grinning as he finally made it to his desk just after 9 a.m. He wanted to start every morning that way, he thought. As he logged onto the Commons wi-fi and waited for his email to load, he considered sending Holly a quick text. She’d be on the train by now, probably as far as Reading; he hoped she’d managed to get a seat. They’d arranged to meet later that evening for another quiet dinner at The Travellers’ Rest, and he planned to persuade her to come home with him after that. Although they lived so close together, he couldn’t bear to be parted from her any longer than was necessary.
‘You’re in love, Charlie,’ he said to himself as, finally, the email screen loaded. ‘No sense trying to deny it. She’s got right to you, and no mistake.’
Scanning through the title lines on the emails that had arrived overnight, his heart thumped as he saw one from the chair of the Health and Social Care Committee he’d observed the previous week. Perhaps he’d got himself noticed after all, he thought. Then, directly below it, there was another, more heart-thumping email from the Secretary of State for Health and Social Care herself. Clicking on it immediately, when he read the contents, the coffee cup he’d been holding in his other hand froze on the way to his lips.
Charlie,
I note with interest your association with the campaign for CF drugs as part of NHS spending. Are you free to discuss further? Might I suggest meeting in my office at 2.30 p.m. tomorrow (Friday) to explore the current position and discuss a possible way forward?
Sincerely,
Cora Mellish,
Secretary of State for Health and Social Care.
Heart racing, Charlie didn’t even waste time to think and sent an instant reply accepting the meeting.
This is it, he thought triumphantly. This, it seemed, was the first step into a bigger presence in the Department of Health and Social Care. And a step on the road to helping Harry and the other CF patients.
Of course, if he was now occupied in London until tomorrow afternoon, it meant he wouldn’t get home to Willowbury that night, which meant no dinner with Holly.
With a pang of regret, he tried to call her, but reception was obviously not great while she was in transit to the West Country. He texted her quickly, not elaborating too much but letting her know that, as an upshot of his
question, he had a meeting to attend at the Department of Health and Social Care. He’d fill her in on the details when he knew more after tomorrow. He hoped, by then, he’d finally be able to give her and Rachel the good news they’d been waiting for.
After a sleepless night on Thursday, and a restless morning in his office, Charlie headed over to the Department of Health and Social Care with a thumping heart. He was intrigued to know what the formidable Cora Mellish would have to say, and he hoped it would be worth the lost hours of sleep.
Cora met him in the foyer of the building and escorted him personally to her large office overlooking the Thames. She was a petite, blonde woman with a penchant for statement shoes, and her sharp blue eyes regarded Charlie keenly, seemingly assessing and weighing him up.
‘Take a seat, Charlie,’ she said in her broad Scottish brogue. ‘Coffee?’
‘Thanks,’ Charlie replied, willing his hands not to shake as he picked up the bone-china cup and saucer. He refused the offer of a piece of shortbread for fear of choking on it out of nerves.
‘Well, you certainly know how to get yourself noticed,’ Cora said, once they’d both had a sip of their respective coffees. ‘Only just taken over the Willowbury and Stavenham seat and already asking a question at PMQs. That takes bollocks.’
Charlie was surprised at the frankness of her language. ‘I’ve always been a risk taker,’ he replied, not entirely truthfully. In his experience, there were few things he considered taking risks for, except perhaps those he cared about. There was no doubt that Holly and her family fell into that category now.