by Fay Keenan
‘Is this Harry’s aunt talking, or a constituent?’ Charlie said gently.
Holly could feel her eyes brimming and she blinked the tears away impatiently. ‘It’s someone who’s feeling very frustrated that she can’t do more to help a poorly little boy.’
As Charlie pulled her close, Holly felt temporarily reassured and insulated by the warmth of his embrace and the beating of his heart.
‘So, I guess that means Rachel won’t be coming to watch PMQs on Wednesday, then,’ Charlie murmured into her hair.
‘Supposing Harry was out of hospital, I don’t think she’d want to leave him to zoom down to London so soon, even if he was staying with Mum and Dad.’
‘Completely understandable,’ Charlie replied. He pulled back from her slightly. ‘Does that mean that you, er, won’t be there either?’
Holly smiled. ‘It’s been a while since I’ve bunked off for the day, apart from yesterday of course, and Isabella’s already booked in to hold the fort at ComIncense, so I’m sure I can find my way to Westminster. That’s if you still want me to be there?’
Charlie smiled in a way that reminded her, yet again, of the adorable teenager he once was. ‘Of course I do. The thought of having you in the gallery as I make my speaking debut will make the whole thing a lot less nerve-wracking.’ He kissed her gently. ‘And who knows – perhaps it’ll even win me back your vote!’
‘I wouldn’t go that far,’ Holly laughed. ‘Pretty speeches don’t exactly convince me any more.’
‘Fair enough,’ Charlie replied. ‘But will you allow me to buy you dinner afterwards?’
‘I think I could stretch to that,’ Holly said. ‘Should I, er, change my train ticket and catch an early one back here on Thursday morning?’
Charlie’s face lit up. ‘If you want to spend the night in my minuscule London crash pad, you are more than welcome.’
‘I’d love to,’ Holly replied. ‘Now, hadn’t you better go off and have your coffee? I’m keeping the shop open a little bit longer until trade tails off.’
‘OK.’ Charlie leaned forward and kissed her. ‘I’ll see you in a bit.’
As she watched Charlie wander out through the front door of the shop, she felt an unsettling flood of emotions: worry and concern for poor Harry and Rachel, cooped up in the BRHC for the immediate future, and a real smattering of nerves for Charlie and his upcoming moment during PMQs. Both, in her mind, seemed inextricably and painfully linked.
31
‘You know, as your MP, I will do everything I can to push Harry’s case forward, don’t you?’ Charlie said as they began to climb the steep bank to the flat-topped hill that stood, proud and watchful over the Vale of Somerset. Holly had been acquainting him with some of the things she and Rachel had been doing to raise awareness of Harry’s condition, and the need for new medications, as they’d wandered from where they’d parked the car near the foot of Willowbury Hill.
‘I know,’ Holly sighed. ‘But Harry’s so little, and so much time has been wasted already, it’s difficult to feel hopeful. Don’t get me wrong,’ she added hurriedly, ‘I know you’ll do your best, but you and I both know the wheels of government and legislation turn so slowly that I’m afraid Harry will run out of time before he gets access to the next generation of drugs. Nearly three hundred CF patients have died in the time it’s taken for the authorities and the drug companies to debate this so far. How many more will lose their fight before they come to an agreement on price?’
Charlie stopped on the stepped path they were treading towards the south side of the hill, where they intended to have their picnic. ‘Holly,’ he said, drawing her to him, ‘I promise you that I will do everything I can to help Harry to get access to the medication he needs. And not just because you’re living on my patch, but because health has always been the area I wanted to explore, should I ever have got to this point.’ He stroked a tendril of hair back from her face and kept his palm pressed to her cheek. She looked so beautiful to him, and she would have done wherever she was, but set against the stunning backdrop of the counties-wide view from Willowbury Hill, she looked like some goddess, something not entirely of this world. Cursing himself for the flight of fancy, he struggled to focus on what she was saying.
‘I know you mean well, Charlie,’ she said. ‘And I know you’ll try to do as much as you can. The fact that you care is what makes you such an asset to this place.’
‘I promise I’ll do whatever I can,’ Charlie murmured. ‘Now, are we going to find a place to eat this wonderful picnic? It feels like a long time since breakfast.’
Holly smiled. ‘Sure.’ She gestured to a spot just to the right of where they were standing. ‘If we sit over there, we shouldn’t get in the way of any other walkers.’ She wandered over and they threw down the picnic blanket.
Charlie set the picnic basket down and they began to unpack it.
A little time later, both were sitting companionably, sipping a glass of chilled Sancerre and looking at the breathtaking view that stretched from Brent Knoll and Steep Holm island to the west, through to Dorset in the south, and behind them, to the north, the faint outline of the Quantock Hills. With such a beautiful vista, it wasn’t surprising that soon Charlie felt himself relaxing again, trying to push away the unsettling thoughts about his work, and the real world, losing himself in this scenery, and this moment, with Holly.
He put down his glass carefully on the dry, sun-cracked ground next to the picnic blanket and turned to Holly. ‘I can see why you love it up here,’ he said. ‘It feels, I don’t know, timeless, somehow.’
‘It’s definitely the place to come to get away from it all,’ Holly replied. She smiled. ‘And I do occasionally lead a deep-vision meditation session up here, weather permitting. Perhaps you should come along some time.’
‘Deep-vision meditation?’ Charlie asked. ‘Sounds, er, deep.’
‘Oh, you’re such an erudite speaker!’ Holly teased. ‘It’s not as ridiculous as it sounds, honestly. It’s all about starting with your own breath, which is the cornerstone of all meditation, and then feeling yourself as part of something bigger, something deeper. This place, with its long, mystical heritage, is the perfect setting for a session. People come away feeling rejuvenated and ready to face whatever life throws at them.’
‘That’s some claim,’ Charlie said, shielding his eyes against the suddenly strong midday sun.
‘Well, that’s what they tell me,’ Holly smiled. ‘And I find it’s a great way to get things straight in my own head, too; this notion that you’re at one with the earth. It brings a certain amount of peace.’
‘Perhaps you should show me some day,’ Charlie suggested. ‘But not right now.’ He moved closer and kissed her, a long, Sancerre-infused meeting of mouths that conveyed exactly how much he didn’t want peace at all right now, but a lot of pleasure instead. As the kiss deepened in intensity, Charlie leaned forward, until he had Holly beneath him, her hand running through his hair as one of his slipped down her body to her waist. The slight breeze in the air, and the scent of newly mown grass, as well as the taste and feel of Holly, made his senses reel. ‘Do you reckon we could get away with, you know… up here?’ He murmured between kisses.
Holly laughed breathlessly, eyes wide with warmth. ‘You’re joking, aren’t you? You can get arrested for that.’
‘It’s a risk I’d be willing to take,’ Charlie said, progressing downwards to kiss her neck.
‘Well, I’m a local business owner and I’ve got a rep to protect,’ Holly chided, pushing him away gently. ‘And it’s not like you don’t have one to maintain, either.’
‘Then can I suggest that we pack away this lovely lunch and head back down the hill, so I can take you to bed before I have to get back to London?’ Charlie could feel the beat of his arousal starting to throb, and from the way Holly was reacting, she felt the same.
‘That sounds like a great idea,’ Holly murmured. ‘Since we seem to be attracting a bit of attention from t
hose people over there. I wouldn’t want to get you into a scandal so early on in your political career.’
Charlie turned to look behind him and was irritated to see a party of what looked to be tourists, who, heedless of the fact that they were standing by one of the country’s most glorious and beautiful landmarks, were more intent on taking snapshots on their camera phones of him and Holly. ‘Bloody hell,’ he grumbled. ‘You try to get away from it all, and the bastards follow you.’ Desire, he knew, was making him cantankerous.
‘Ssh,’ Holly said softly. ‘They’re only doing it because they’ve spotted a semi-famous face. And it’s not like you’re doing anything wrong. Well, not yet, anyway,’ she raised a suggestive eyebrow.
Charlie groaned. ‘Take me back to your place. Now!’ he said. ‘Or I really won’t be responsible for my actions.’
‘Your wish is my command,’ Holly replied. ‘But I wouldn’t be surprised if you and I ended up on an Instagram feed later.’
‘I’ve got quite adept at stalking myself online since I got this job,’ Charlie admitted. ‘It seems better to know what they’re saying about you than not.’
‘Forewarned is forearmed,’ Holly said. ‘Although, in your job, I’m not sure I’d want to read everything that was said about me on social media! I can’t imagine what it’s like to be under such public scrutiny the whole time,’ she added. ‘Sort of like being a celebrity, but without the adulation.’
‘Sort of,’ Charlie said. ‘Although I’m up for a bit of, er, adulation for the rest of the day if you are!’ He grinned at her.
‘Oh, let me take you away from here and adore you!’ Holly replied, laughing. ‘It’s not like I’ve got anything better to do.’
‘Thanks,’ Charlie said dryly.
Swiftly they packed up their picnic and began the descent back down the hill, to an afternoon of more earthly delights.
32
Slow, lazy lovemaking left them both sated but also starving hungry. Holly, who had nothing in her fridge as she hadn’t managed to do any shopping since the previous weekend, suggested a bite to eat at the local pub. Called The Travellers’ Rest, it was the heart of the town, and one of the most ancient buildings, to boot. Rumour had it that Elizabeth I had stayed the night on the way back to London after a trip to the South Western provinces, and had allegedly been terrified by the spirit of a long-dead prioress, who’d been beaten to death in the grounds by Elizabeth’s own father, Henry VIII’s troops during the dissolution of the monasteries. Chances are, it was just the wind whistling down the large chimneys and flapping at the curtains, but it all added to the sense of mystery that surrounded such a historic building.
‘I’ve been meaning to pop into this place since I moved here, but drinking on your own isn’t a great look,’ Charlie said. ‘I’m glad I’m going to discover it for the first time with such wonderful company.’
‘Why, thank you.’ Holly wandered over to the bar, ‘What would you like to drink? My treat.’
‘Are you sure?’ Charlie asked.
‘Come on, Charlie, we’re well into the twenty-first century now!’ Holly laughed. ‘Besides, Willowfest is the most profitable weekend of the year for ComIncense, so I’m sure I can at least buy you a drink.’
‘Dinner’s on me, though,’ Charlie said. ‘I’ll have a pint of Carter’s Gold cider, please.’
‘Getting into the West Country way of drinking, I see,’ Holly remarked.
The bartender came over and she ordered the cider for Charlie and a Wicked Wolf gin and tonic for herself. Known as ‘The Spirit of Exmoor’, it was brewed a few miles away but embodied all of the flavours of the famous Somerset hills. Holly was a wine drinker, generally, but she felt in need of something a little stronger as an aperitif to clear her palate and chase away the lingering tiredness after a hectic weekend.
As they settled at a cosy table in the corner of the bar, tucked to one side of the huge inglenook fireplace that took up most of the side wall, Charlie perused the menu. ‘I’m starving,’ he announced.
‘Well, you’ve worked off a lot of calories, with the walk up the hill and… other things,’ Holly smiled.
Charlie groaned. ‘I really don’t want to have to go back to London tomorrow. Can’t I throw a sickie and stay here with you instead?’
Holly simulated shock. ‘Mr Thorpe! What would your constituents think?’
‘Well, you’re one of them; what do you think?’ Charlie asked playfully, taking one of Holly’s hands in his and turning it over. He tickled the pulse point in her wrist with his fingertips. Holly was reminded of where else those sensitive but expert fingers had made her tingle, and she felt her heart beating faster.
‘Behave,’ she murmured. ‘We both need to eat or neither of us will be fit for anything.’
A little time later, they were both tucking into plates of steak and kidney pie, mash and peas (mostly locally sourced and absolutely delicious), and feeling more fortified. Charlie had ordered a bottle of red wine to go with their meal, and it was going down very nicely.
‘This is exactly what I needed,’ Charlie said as he put his knife and fork together, having polished off his entire plate. His eyes sparkled in the low light of the bar. ‘I almost feel like I can face another week at the coalface now.’
Holly snorted. ‘Don’t let your opposition hear you calling it that.’
‘Fair point,’ Charlie replied. He glanced at his watch. ‘I should be getting the train back in about an hour.’ Willowbury station had been reopened around ten years previously as an experiment into reconnecting some of the smaller towns in Somerset to the mainline between Taunton and Bristol Temple Meads. It had worked wonders for the job prospects of local people, and been a boost to the local economy as well, bringing in tourists to the town and increasing the trade of businesses such as Holly’s. Holly, of course, was hugely in favour of anything that got more cars off the road, and the increase in trade was a definite bonus.
‘That’s a shame,’ Holly said, looking up at him from underneath her lashes. ‘I was going to suggest you came back and spent the night with me.’
Charlie groaned. ‘Don’t give me choices like that.’ Then, his face brightened. ‘Unless…’ He whipped out his phone and tapped the screen for a moment or two. ‘Yes!’ he said triumphantly. ‘I haven’t tried it before, but there’s an early train from Willowbury that connects at Bristol Temple Meads and then direct to London Paddington. It means I’ll have to get to the station by six o’clock tomorrow morning, but that’s no big deal, it’s only a ten-minute walk from either your place or mine.’
‘Sounds perfect,’ Holly said. ‘And it means we can have another drink if we want one.’ She finished her glass of red. ‘Can I treat you to something to settle that food?’
‘Sure,’ Charlie replied. ‘If you’re sure you can manage it?’
Holly laughed. ‘I’m a Somerset girl – I grew up drinking Scrumpy cider behind the cricket pavilion. What about you?’
‘Had to keep the Yorkshire winters out of my bones somehow,’ Charlie replied, affecting a slightly broader accent.
‘Is that what you really sound like?’ Holly teased. ‘Before you were forced to iron out your accent to appeal to the electorate?’
Charlie looked affronted. ‘I don’t know what you mean. I don’t sound all that different now, do I?’
Holly prodded him in the ribs playfully. ‘I remember, back when we first met, you sounded like a cross between Matt Lewis and Geoffrey Boycott! Your vowels were so broad, I could have canoed the River Thames on them. I think it’s fair to say that you’ve put a little bit of the Estuary into your English since then.’
Charlie shook his head. ‘For someone who claims to have only the vaguest memories of that night we met, you suddenly seem to be a lot clearer on it.’
‘Well, you know, it’s coming back to me gradually,’ Holly said. ‘But it might explain why I didn’t recognise you straight away when you came into the shop that first time – you’re
far less geeky and a lot less Yorkshire than you used to be.’
‘Whereas you’ve gone the other way and I can hear the Somerset far more now,’ Charlie replied. ‘Perhaps I’ll end up with a weird combination of both accents if I stay here long enough!’
‘That would be funny,’ Holly teased. ‘You’d have to make sure you really thought about how you said bath, buns and footpath, then!’
‘Our kids would sound really interesting,’ Charlie said, then coughed nervously. ‘Sorry, that’s jumping the gun a bit, isn’t it?’
‘Gun or goon?’ Holly teased, but she was touched by his sudden reticence. ‘I’ll grab us another drink.’
Without waiting to see what he wanted, she headed to the bar, ordered and then returned with two glasses of a medium brown oaky colour liquid that looked suspiciously like doubles.
‘Dare I ask what this is?’ Charlie took the glass and sniffed it cautiously. ‘Smells good, whatever it is.’
‘It’s Somerset cider brandy,’ Holly said. ‘Produced a few miles away from here. This is the ten-year-old version, but there’s a five and a twenty, too. It was the only spirit served at Harry and Meghan’s wedding breakfast, so I suspect it’s good enough for us.’
‘Well, if it’s good enough for HRH,’ Charlie said wryly.
Holly took a sip from her glass and let out an appreciative breath as the warming liquid slipped over her tongue and down her throat. Rich and complex, it had a spicy bouquet and a smooth finish. She wasn’t a great brandy drinker, but she’d made an exception for Somerset cider brandy since she’d become a permanent resident in the county.
