The Weekender

by Fay Keenan

  ‘Oh yes?’ Holly said, a little behind the curve for once. ‘Tom’s going to love that.’

  ‘Tom’s on holiday until tomorrow,’ Charlie replied, grinning. ‘It was you I was thinking about.’

  ‘I have got a business to run, you know!’ Holly said, trying not to give him an inch, but the light in her eyes gave her away. ‘You’ll have to use the kitchen table at my place if you want my help.’

  ‘Is that an offer?’ Charlie asked carefully. ‘Does that mean you can actually bear to be in the same room as me again?’

  ‘We’ll see how it goes,’ Holly said noncommittally, but she did draw closer to Charlie as she stood. ‘You’ve got a lot of ground to make up. And you can’t have any distractions.’

  ‘You won’t even know I’m there,’ Charlie said.

  ‘It’s a deal,’ Holly replied. She hesitated as though she was going to take his hand as they left the hospital, but held back at the last moment. In a not entirely companionable silence, they headed back to the Trenchard Street car park.

  50

  ‘So, the way this works is that I need to apply to the Speaker on Wednesday if I’m going to get a chance to head up an Adjournment Debate over the next week. Effectively, we’ve got four days to research, time and then put the finishing touches on this speech, should it get picked by the Speaker or in the ballot,’ Charlie said as, after collecting up as many of his research materials as he could lay his hands on from his constituency office, he set up a temporary space at Holly’s kitchen table on Saturday evening. They’d also collected a takeaway from the Chinese restaurant at the top of Willowbury High Street but decided against a bottle of wine; they needed clear heads. Rachel would be dropping in briefly when she got back from the hospital later, as Vivian Renton was doing a shift at the BRHC, giving her a bit of respite, and a chance to come home and collect more things.

  ‘So, there’s still no guarantee it’ll be picked?’ Holly asked.

  ‘Well, no,’ Charlie conceded. ‘But thanks to you and the other campaigners giving the campaign a huge media boost, I’d be surprised if it didn’t get at least a fleeting moment of the Speaker’s attention. He’s quite fond of political drama, and he’s not been unknown to choose an Adjournment Debate because he knows it’ll get decent media coverage.’

  ‘So we’d effectively be using the media for good this time?’ Holly said wryly. ‘Instead of being plastered all over it for all the wrong reasons. But what about doing it right before recess? Is that a good time?’ Holly’s brow creased with a frown. ‘Doesn’t that make all you lot extra demob-happy, just like it used to at school?’

  ‘Well, possibly,’ Charlie said. ‘But it also means the Health and Social Care Committee can schedule a meeting with the drug companies over the summer, get negotiations going and hopefully have a decision by the first sitting in back in the autumn.’

  ‘I hope you’re right,’ Holly said. She had to resist the urge, as she was standing next to him where he was seated at her large, round table, to run her hand through his hair and caress the back of his neck. Old habits were hard to break, especially as she still felt such a powerful pull of attraction to him, in spite of all that had happened. ‘So, er, what’s the best approach to take for this speech?’ she coughed nervously.

  ‘Oh, you know, rhetoric, statistics, emotion and cold hard numbers, followed by a punch to the gut to finish,’ Charlie said wryly. ‘All that stuff we learned about how to write a decent speech for GCSE English isn’t that far off the mark, really. I’ve been putting my old English teacher’s advice into practice ever since!’

  ‘I’m sure he or she would be very proud,’ Holly replied dryly.

  Charlie flipped the screen on his laptop and called up a new document. ‘Let’s do this.’

  Later on, when she looked back at the hours they spent working on the speech, Holly felt it would all have been covered in some cheesy montage scene in a film; Charlie certainly made a decent-looking leading man, and no mistake. She was amazed at his focus, once he got going, and his organisational skills. The political animal under his skin was in full flow, statistics at his fingertips, pithy and passionate turns of phrase interwoven with the clear, unadulterated facts of the case.

  He kept muttering parts of what he’d written, testing the cadences, feeling the rhythms of the words to see if they sounded correct, would engage the House as well as being informative. Holly, who was going through the piles of research materials, kept getting distracted by his voice, which, although not in full public-speaking mode, was still low and authoritative, prompting her to listen. She suddenly had a vision of him as a teenager again, when she’d seen him on the platform at the youth conference, gestures slightly more mechanical, self-consciously intended to imitate the open-handed poses of the politicians of the day, voice mostly commanding but with a tremor of nerves that he, thankfully, seemed to have banished in later years.

  Back in the moment, when the thirty-something Charlie rolled up his sleeves to expose his wonderful wrists and forearms, she swallowed back a sudden surge of lust. Power, she thought wryly, even that of a backbench MP, was a decent aphrodisiac when that MP was as good a speaker as Charlie was. But now was not the time for thoughts like that.

  It amazed her how much material Charlie would need for a ten-minute speech in the debate. Even accounting for interruptions to allow debate to be free-flowing, he’d have to be prepared. As he wove in statistics with real-life examples from Harry’s life, and those of other CF patients, the speech started to take shape.

  ‘Tom’s just emailed me to let me know he’ll be back late tomorrow afternoon, but he wants to see a version of the speech as soon as we’ve got something to share.’ Charlie, back obviously sore after hours of hunching over his laptop, leaned back in the wooden chair and raised his arms above his head. ‘I wish you and I were on better terms right now,’ he said, half to himself but looking at Holly. ‘I’d ask for one of those amazing massages.’

  Holly’s breath caught in her throat and she laughed nervously to cover up the sudden surge of desire that his words, and his slightly dishevelled appearance, provoked in her. ‘Mind on the job, Mr Thorpe. Tom’s not going to want to see a subpar version of this speech that’s supposed to change everything.’

  Charlie looked troubled for a moment, and he stood up from the table. Holly felt frozen to the spot as he moved towards her. She caught the warm scent of his body and the cologne he habitually wore and saw the trace of five-o’clock shadow on his jawline. His eyes, darker away from the lamp at the side of the table where he’d been working, seemed to read into her soul.

  ‘You know we can only do our best, don’t you?’ he said softly as he approached her. ‘All I can do is present the issue to the House as powerfully as I can. It’s up to the pharmaceutical company and the Department of Health to come to a decision after that.’

  ‘I know,’ Holly replied, her own voice low in the warm light of her living room. ‘But you said to me that real change is effected by politicians; perhaps this is an issue where politics and public opinion together really can make a difference; have an influence.’

  ‘I hope so,’ Charlie said. ‘And I want you to know that I am going to put everything I have into this debate. I will not walk away from this again, Holly.’ He drew closer to her and she breathed in his scent, so intoxicating that she could feel a warmth spreading through her, and her own breath shortening. As if he didn’t realise what he was doing, he reached out a slightly trembling hand and ran the back of his fingertips down the side of her cheek.

  ‘Charlie…’ she murmured, head swimming at his closeness.

  ‘I know,’ he replied. ‘It’s not a good idea. But I just need… I just want…’ With the softness of an exhaled breath, he brought his mouth to hers in a kiss that was as sweet and tentative as that first one they’d shared back in London all those years ago.

  As if it had a mind of its own, Holly’s hand found its way to Charlie’s hair, fingers tangling in
his dark, wavy locks and pulling his mouth closer, for a deeper, more intense kiss. He tasted of coffee and sweetness, and her senses reeled as she realised just how much she’d missed him in the time they’d been apart.

  ‘We can’t,’ Holly gasped when they pulled apart. ‘We shouldn’t…’

  ‘I know,’ Charlie whispered, ‘but right now, I think we need to.’ He slid an arm around her waist and pressed closer to her, until she had her back against the wall of her living room.

  Holly could feel his arousal, and she pressed back against him, one thigh wrapping around his as her senses reeled at his closeness.

  ‘I think you’re right,’ Holly murmured into the kiss. ‘I’ve missed you.’

  ‘You have no idea how much I’ve missed you, too,’ Charlie’s voice trembled as he pulled back, just for a moment, to look into Holly’s eyes. ‘Every minute I haven’t been able to call you, to see you, to share my life with you, has been bloody awful.’

  Holly pulled him closer to her again, feeling the frantic beating of his heart that matched her own. ‘It’s late,’ she said softly. ‘Do you want to stay?’

  ‘No pressure,’ Charlie replied. ‘We don’t have to do… anything. I just need to be close to you.’

  Holly’s eyes sparkled. ‘That’s very sweet, Charlie, but I have enough trouble keeping my hands off you as it is!’

  Charlie laughed, breaking the palpable tension. ‘Well, if you insist, I’m not going to argue.’

  Hand in hand, both weak with relief that, for the moment at least, they could acknowledge what still existed between them, they headed off to bed.

  51

  It was only on Sunday morning that Holly remembered Rachel had been going to pop over on Saturday night after she’d got back from the hospital. Grabbing her phone from the bedside table, she swiped guiltily, wondering if she’d been so caught up in kissing Charlie, and what had happened after the kisses, that she hadn’t heard her sister knocking at the door.

  As it was, Rachel had sent an apologetic text at around ten o’clock the previous night saying that she’d got home after their mother had relieved her at the hospital, had a bath and then crashed out. Holly texted back a quick reply, then turned to where Charlie was still dozing in the bed next to her.

  ‘Come on, sleepyhead! Some of us have jobs to go to.’ She ran a hand down Charlie’s bicep, tangling his fingers in her own and placing a kiss on his shoulder. Last night had been magical: exactly what they both needed. She tried not to let the worries and doubts creep in again as the daylight was creeping through the gap in the curtains.

  Charlie groaned. ‘Do we have to move just yet?’

  ‘I do, I’m afraid – the shop won’t open itself, and besides, I only open for a couple of hours on a Sunday. You can have a lie-in if you want.’ Holly gasped as Charlie rolled onto his back and pulled her on top of him. She was left in no doubt as to what he intended to spend his lie-in doing, if she could be convinced to stay in bed with him. ‘Later,’ she said playfully, kissing him and then breaking free. ‘I’ve been playing hooky from ComIncense enough lately.’ She wriggled out of bed and headed for the shower, even though other parts of her were definitely wanting to stay in bed, wrapped around Charlie. ‘And you’ve got a speech to finish, remember?’ She looked playfully over her shoulder at him and grinned. ‘If you get up now, you can share a shower with me.’

  ‘That’s an offer I can’t refuse!’ Charlie said, jumping out of bed and following in Holly’s wake.

  Holly had a busy morning at the shop, and was pleased to note that the continuing warm weather meant more tourist footfall, despite the lack of progress on the motorway junction. Lots of people now seemed to visit by train, so perhaps the road building wouldn’t become necessary in the longer term, after all. Charlie popped down from time to time, to try out various excerpts of the speech on her, and she was honest in the feedback she gave him. He was a good speaker but occasionally had the tendency to overdo the mannered hand gestures that a lot of current politicians favoured.

  ‘Just put your left hand in your pocket, or something,’ she chided as he repeated the hands open, palms outwards gesture once again. ‘You look as though you’re going to break into song.’

  Charlie swatted her playfully with the notes he’d brought down with him. ‘Remember that in the chamber, it’s a bit like being onstage in the round – people see you as much as hear you, so I do have to make the body language count as well.’

  ‘That’s all well and good, but you’re making me dizzy with all the perfect posturing!’ She leaned up on tiptoe and kissed him briefly. ‘Go and practice in front of the mirror, or something.’

  As she came back down to her feet, she suddenly became aware of a presence other than herself and Charlie in the shop, and it was one, instinctively, she didn’t like.

  ‘How cosy,’ Miles Fairbother’s voice cut through their good mood like a knife through lard.

  Holly was instinctively on her guard and drew breath to retort, but Charlie, who was still holding her hand, squeezed it gently, as if in warning.

  ‘Hello, Miles,’ he said softly. ‘What can we do for you?’

  ‘Your office said I could find you here,’ Miles said. ‘I’ve been trying to reach you to let you know something. I assume you don’t mind if she listens in, too?’ He gestured to Holly dismissively, who tried not to bristle.

  ‘And what would that be?’ Charlie still had hold of Holly’s hand, but he stepped a little closer to her protectively at the perceived dismissal.

  ‘As of the next parliamentary session, Fairbrothers will be withdrawing their support for your office and any future election campaigns,’ Miles announced, evidently taking great satisfaction in breaking the news. ‘I feel that your… associations with certain other interests in the constituency are not in line with the values we at Fairbrothers support.’

  ‘And what would those be, Miles?’ Charlie’s voice was calm, although Holly winced as he squeezed her hand a little more tightly.

  ‘Oh, I’m sure you know,’ Miles replied, a deceptively light tone in his voice. ‘While you and your, er, friend, might be more progressive in your attitudes to showing yourself canoodling on social media, and playing the politics of emotion rather than economics, I feel that our aims are, at best, incompatible.’

  Charlie shook his head. ‘You surprise me, Miles. From what I understand, you’re not above a bit of behaviour unbecoming to the party yourself, at least if the saga over the premises you’re standing in is anything to go by. Don’t you think it’s about time you called it quits and crawled back to the rock you live under?’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ Miles’ eyes began to protrude at Charlie’s forthright tone. ‘Have you forgotten I was one of the local party’s biggest donors? You need me.’

  ‘Really?’ Charlie said innocently. ‘You see, I rather think that you just told me you were withdrawing support for me and my office. So, actually, if I was to tell you to shove your overpriced gluten-free bread rolls up your arse, there would be very little you could do about it.’

  Miles’ jaw dropped. ‘Well, I think we know where we both stand, then.’ He looked from Charlie to Holly. ‘Your predecessor was a much better MP, you know. Was far more aligned with tradition, and the importance of it. I’m surprised you can call yourself a party member with the way you’ve been making decisions since you got in. Mark my words, you’d better enjoy it while you can, because you’ll soon lose that cosy majority without me and my like behind you.’

  ‘Frankly, Miles, I’d rather not have you behind me, if you’re planning on stabbing me in the back.’ Charlie’s tone hardened. ‘And you couldn’t get much more offensive than that non-story you leaked to AllFeed, could you?’

  ‘You can’t prove anything,’ Miles said, his tone unconcerned. ‘That could have come from anyone.’

  ‘True, but it’s rather a coincidence that you’re withdrawing funding now, having allegedly tried to discredit me personally and political
ly, isn’t it? And all because I wasn’t prepared to be in your pocket like Hugo Fitzgerald was.’

  ‘More lies and slander,’ Miles retorted, but there was an edge of steel to his voice.

  ‘Maybe not, but I think we all know where we stand.’ Charlie’s said, staring evenly at Miles. ‘And if that’s all you have to say, I suggest you stop harassing Holly in, what I’m sure you don’t need me to remind you, is actually her shop.’

  Miles paused, staring in undisguised anger at Holly and Charlie, for a moment longer, before nodding briskly and exiting the shop.

  ‘Christ,’ Charlie muttered.

  Holly looked up at him and her heart flipped in concern. His face had drained of all colour, and, still clasped in hers, his hand had begun to shake. ‘Are you OK?’ she said gently. She moved closer to him, to hold him in her arms. ‘I can’t quite believe what you just said to that idiot.’

  Charlie buried his head in her shoulder and his voice was muffled. ‘Just between us, neither can I.’ He began to laugh shakily. ‘The constituency accountant’s going to string me up when she finds out I didn’t try to talk Miles back into funding us. He wasn’t joking when he said he was basically financing the local party, you know.’

  ‘Then it’s about time you found a new generation of donors,’ Holly said stoutly. ‘I’m sure there are plenty of people out there who’ll cough up if you ask them nicely enough.’

  ‘Says the confirmed Green Party voter!’ Charlie laughed a little more strongly.

  ‘I think I can lend my support in other ways,’ Holly replied. ‘Now, get back to the table and finish that speech – you said you’d send a draft to Tom, today, remember, before you see him tomorrow.’

  ‘Absolutely,’ Charlie replied but stopped to kiss her. ‘Screw Miles,’ he said as they parted. ‘I’ve worked out what’s most important, and he definitely doesn’t come close. Not even with that party donation.’