by Fay Keenan
‘The Department of Health and Social Care isn’t exactly a risk-friendly place, though,’ Cora said meditatively. ‘We prefer a rather more measured approach. Raising an emotive issue like drug funding for CF in the theatre of the Commons itself is rather too dramatic for our liking.’
Charlie felt his stomach turn over. Was this an official telling-off? If so, why summon him all the way over here? Cora could have just bollocked him by email. ‘I apologise, Minister, if I spoke out of turn. I do have a constituency interest in the outcome of the latest CF drug-funding discussions, though.’
‘I’m well aware of your interest,’ Cora replied smoothly. ‘And perhaps, on this occasion, given your inexperience in matters of the House, your rashness in raising this issue while the committee is still in session could be forgiven, if you redirect your energies into something less controversial.’
‘What are you saying, Minister?’ Charlie’s mind was whirling. Cora Mellish couldn’t be warning him off this case, could she?
‘I’m saying, Charlie, that getting yourself involved in something so complex at this early stage in your career could, by some, be considered a foolhardy move. One which might do your own standing more harm than good and also not accomplish a great deal in terms of moving the talks with the drug companies forward.’ She finished her coffee and set the cup down on the saucer with a crisp chime, which echoed the tone of her voice.
‘Are you telling me to drop this issue?’ Charlie put his own cup and saucer down on the minister’s desk with a clatter.
‘I’m telling you that there is more at stake here than just the new CF drugs,’ Cora replied. ‘Even if we can come to an arrangement with the pharmaceutical company, that money, as I’m sure you’re aware, has to come from somewhere. The NHS is not a bottomless pit of resources. Are you sure you want to be the one to have to balance the books, for this relatively small issue?’
‘It might be small to you, Minister, but there are lives at stake here, every time we push the pause button on discussions. Lives that don’t have the luxury of time, as I’m sure you’re aware.’ Charlie tried to keep his voice level, aware that antagonising Cora was not the best path to promotion within her department. He drew a deep breath. ‘Is there a way forward?’
Cora smiled without warmth. ‘There might be.’ She paused, her direct blue stare making the suggestion that she hadn’t yet voiced.
‘You want me to step back from the issue,’ Charlie supplied, his heart sinking.
‘Let the committee do its job, Charlie,’ Cora’s voice was suddenly lower, quieter. ‘That’s what it’s there for. If these new drugs are cost-effective and worthwhile to fund on the NHS, they’ll recommend it to government. If not, the money gets spent elsewhere, on equally important issues.’
‘So, I just walk away, do I?’ Charlie retorted. ‘And how do you suggest I explain that to the members of my constituency that are directly affected by this situation? Who don’t have the luxury of waiting years for an answer?’
‘You’re a politician,’ Cora replied, brisk and efficient again. ‘You’ll find a way. Breaking bad news, as well as good, goes with the job description.’
Charlie looked down at his hands, clenched into fists on his knees. ‘I know that,’ he muttered.
‘I know it’s going to be hard, but you should have waited before jumping into the fire with this one. You might have raised the profile of the issue, but shouting in public will only get you so far. Work behind the scenes on other issues, by all means, but let this one take its course.’
‘And then what?’ Charlie said. ‘What happens if I agree to stay quiet?’
There was another perceptible pause in the room. ‘If you do your job, keep your nose clean and play the game… it will be looked upon favourably.’
Although it was unclear whether Cora was trying to warn him off the CF issue for his own good, or whether she did, in fact, have some other agenda, the message itself she was sending out was loud and clear. Charlie knew he was standing on a pillar in the middle of an abyss. Jump one way, keep pushing on the CF issue and Cora would make sure he never walked through those doors as a minister. Jump the other, win favour in Whitehall by leaving this issue alone and in a few years he might even have her job.
‘I understand, Minister,’ Charlie said quietly.
Standing quickly, he shook her hand, and, head spinning, tried to find his way back to his own office. This morning he’d been so excited to get back to Holly with good news; now, he didn’t know how the hell he was going to face her.
39
Under normal circumstances, Charlie enjoyed the chance to unwind on the train home to Willowbury. On a Thursday evening, when he usually made the journey, he’d have to stand until Reading, but after that he’d more often than not get a seat and the chance to go through some non-confidential bits of work. Tonight, though, was different, and not just because it was Friday. With every mile that took him closer to home, and Holly, he felt the dread, like an illness, rising inside him.
He’d left the Department of Health reeling. The choice, although Cora hadn’t put it into words, had been clear. Drop the CF issue, keep his head down and get promoted. Keep pushing it now, and get ignored for the rest of this Parliament, at least. With three and half years to go until the next general election, that was a long time in the political wilderness. The choice was his, but in reality there was no choice.
And, in the meantime, he had to look Holly in the eye and tell her his decision; be honest with her, either way. If he chose her and Harry, he’d be almost completely ineffective politically. If he chose to drop the issue, she, quite rightly, would drop him without a second thought. The argument they’d had in the car the night of the Stavenham Chamber of Commerce dinner at the Swanley Hotel came back to him. He’d told her that her small actions didn’t make a difference; that he needed the donors and the political clout to make the real decisions. How stupidly naive he’d been to say that; it was clear, now, that he wielded precisely no influence over anything.
‘Tickets from London Paddington and Reading, please!’ The cheery voice of the train manager with its West Country burr broke into his brooding.
Charlie dug into his jacket pocket and handed over his season ticket to the attendant. Her name was Lydia, and she was a regular on this service. Always cheerful and a welcome reminder of home, she often shared a word or two with him on the way by.
‘Good week?’ she asked as she looked over his ticket.
‘Not bad,’ Charlie replied, although his heart wasn’t in it. He forced a smile, remembering he was, to a certain extent, facing the public as much as she was.
‘Thank you, sir; have a good weekend,’ she replied.
‘Thank you,’ he said automatically. ‘You too.’
Unable to focus on anything other than the whirling of his own thoughts, Charlie put his head back against the seat and tried to keep his gaze on the landscape passing the train’s window. As it changed from the urban to the rural, the closer he came to his destination, he felt the sickness churning in his stomach. He still had absolutely no idea what he was going to say to Holly. How could he possibly explain? How could he unpick the complicated strands of a Westminster warning to an outsider without sounding like a callous bastard?
Far too soon, he was boarding the connecting train from Bristol Temple Meads to the branch line that served Willowbury. It took thirty-five minutes on a good day; Charlie needed every last second. Realising that the absolute last place he wanted to be was the pub when he broke the news to Holly, he disembarked the train and headed straight for her place.
Willowbury High Street held no dawdling charms for him this evening; he just wanted to get to Holly, to explain, calmly, what had happened. And then wait for the inevitable explosion she had every right to have.
As he approached ComIncense, he could see the lights were out and the shop sign was turned to ‘Closed’. That wasn’t surprising; it was just after six thirty in the evening, afte
r all. How he wished he could just carry on as though nothing had happened; but that wasn’t an option. Lying didn’t come naturally, which, potentially, was a disadvantage in his job, but Charlie definitely preferred to play things straight.
Taking one last fortifying deep breath, he cut through the walkway that separated Holly’s building from the other shop on one side of ComIncense and knocked at her wooden door.
‘Hey,’ Holly’s face was so happy, she seemed so surprised and delighted to see him on her doorstep that Charlie’s heart bled. ‘I thought we were meeting at the pub.’
‘I need to talk to you,’ Charlie said. Not even stopping to kiss her, because he highly doubted that when he’d finished telling her about the meeting with the Secretary of State she’d want to be anywhere near him anyway, he wandered in through her door.
‘Is everything OK?’ Holly trailed behind him. Still in her jeans, a white T-shirt and a patchwork waistcoat, she’d clearly just finished cashing up in the shop and hadn’t started getting ready for their date.
‘Holly…’ Charlie, who’d headed up the stairs to Holly’s cosy living area, turned helplessly back around as she came into the room.
‘Oh God, what’s happened?’ Immediately she was by his side, seeing the stricken look on his face. ‘Are you OK? Have you had some bad news?’
‘I think you’d better sit down.’ He felt as though his own knees were going to give way but resolved to stand for as long as he could, otherwise he knew he’d collapse.
‘What is it, Charlie? Please, you’re freaking me out.’
Charlie shook his head and then realised he was going to lose the battle with his legs. He reached out and took Holly’s hand, leading her gently to the sofa.
‘I’ve come to tell you that I can’t take Harry’s case for the new medication any further,’ he said softly. ‘I won’t be able to speak for him any more, for the moment at least.’
‘Wh-what?’ Holly looked as though she’d been slapped. All of the colour drained from her face, until a horrible red blush started to spread up her neck and into her cheeks as what Charlie had said began to sink in. ‘What do you mean? You asked the question at PMQs. How can you say that’s it?’
‘Holly…’ he swallowed hard, but the lump in his throat refused to budge. ‘I got carpeted by the Secretary of State for Health and Social Care this afternoon. I thought she wanted to see me to discuss getting the case going again. She didn’t. She told me to take a step back. Let the committee do its job. Stop poking my nose into things I didn’t understand.’
‘And you listened to her?’ Holly’s voice, formerly a whisper, rose suddenly. ‘She told you to back off and so that’s it? You’re dumping Harry and the rest of the CF patients just like that?’
‘There was nothing else I could do,’ Charlie said wearily. ‘If I don’t agree to back off, she’ll see to it that I never get anywhere near the Department of Health. All doors will be closed. I’ll be stuck on the back benches for the rest of this Parliament and probably the one after that, if I’m fortunate enough to get re-elected. Powerless to do anything, for anyone.’
‘No,’ Holly replied. ‘You told me that you were the one who could make a difference. That I could pick up all the carrier bags in the world and nothing would change. That you had the opportunity to make changes because of where you were, your job. Now you’re telling me that’s not true.’ She began to cry, and Charlie ached to reach out to her, to comfort her, but he felt absolutely paralysed by indecision.
‘Holly, believe me, if there was some other way, I would take it, but there isn’t. I need to step away from this. And, perhaps, so do you.’
‘How can I?’ Holly raised her voice another notch. ‘Harry is part of my life, Charlie. He’s just a baby; he can’t do it for himself. If people like us don’t speak up for him, try to get him the drugs he needs just to live a normal life, what hope does he have? I thought you understood that. I thought you agreed with me.’
‘I do,’ Charlie could see the anguish on her face, and he desperately wanted to hold her and make it all go away, but he couldn’t. How could he? ‘Believe me, Holly, if there was another way of doing this, I’d do it. But I’ve been warned; make a fuss about this and everything else I need to do will be ignored. I’ll have no career.’
‘That’s it, isn’t it?’ Suddenly, the penny dropped. Charlie could see it in Holly’s eyes as they flashed in anger. ‘She’s told you that you won’t have a ministerial career on her patch if you push this, hasn’t she?’
‘Not in so many words,’ Charlie hedged. ‘But she does wield a lot of influence. I have to play things carefully if I’m to make any progress.’
‘This is not a game, Charlie!’ Holly stood up and started pacing her lounge, wiping abortively at her eyes to rid them of tears as the anger took over. ‘This is people’s lives. Harry’s life.’ She stopped pacing and turned back towards him. ‘Would you ever be able to forgive yourself if Harry becomes just another CF death statistic because this medication was held up and you could have done something about it? Made things happen for him?’
‘I don’t have that kind of power,’ Charlie retorted. ‘And if I keep pushing this now, I never will. Can’t you see? It’s the wrong time.’
‘Try telling that to Harry, and to Rachel, and to all of the people who are relying on their government to make this happen.’ Holly was suddenly very still.
‘I’m sorry,’ Charlie said quietly. ‘I promised you I’d help, and now I have to go back on that promise. It’s not good enough, I know.’
‘You’re just like every other politician,’ Holly said, her voice now deceptively calm. ‘On our side so long as it’s convenient. So long as you can gain some kind of capital out of it. And as soon as the going gets a little bit tough, you renege on your promises and leave us all out in the cold.’ She went to the door of her lounge and opened it. ‘At least I know where I stand, now.’
‘That’s not true!’ Charlie heard the frantic note in his own voice and hated himself almost as much for it as he did the decision to take Cora Mellish’s advice. ‘It wasn’t as simple as that, I promise you. The NHS is not a bottomless pit of resources; decisions have to be made. The money for that drug could fund so many chemotherapy treatments for women with breast cancer; each course of treatment could fund five trainee nurses for a year. We can’t ignore the finances here.’
‘Don’t bullshit me with that pseudo-political bollocks, Charlie!’ Holly’s voice was rising. ‘It might wash with your so-called colleagues, but it doesn’t work with me. You know Harry; you know the difference this could make to his life. And yet you still choose to do nothing. Well, I hope you’re happy once you get to a plum job in the Department of Health.’
Charlie took a step back, as if she’d slapped him. ‘Do you think I’d sell Harry out just for a job?’ he said. ‘Is that really what you think of me?’
‘I thought you had principles,’ Holly said. ‘I thought, when you came to Willowbury, that you wanted to stand up for the people who live here. Harry might not be old enough to vote, but Rachel and I are. Why weren’t you standing up for us?’
‘Holly,’ his voice was quiet. ‘The maternity unit at the local hospital is under threat of closure. Can you imagine the pressure that’s going to put on St Michael’s in Bristol? On Musgrove Park in Taunton? In the grand scheme of things, we have to make choices. I have to choose to step away from this now, because I might be able to do something later, when I’m in a better position to help. It’s not personal.’
‘How can you say it’s not personal?’ Holly didn’t care that she was shouting again now. ‘After all the time you’ve spent with me and my family. All the time we’ve spent…’
And at that moment, Charlie knew she felt that he’d utterly betrayed her. He could still feel the way his knees went weak when he kissed her; the silk of her hair as he ran his fingers through it. It was all for nothing now; he’d done the unforgivable.
Charlie’s face, st
ricken in the harsh light of Holly’s halogen kitchen bulb, pleaded with her to understand, but how could she? After everything they’d been through, this was the situation he’d feared the most. He’d chosen his politics over his heart. He could dress it up to her any way he liked, but that, it seemed, was the bottom line. There was nothing more to say.
‘I’m sorry, Holly,’ he said one last time.
‘Goodbye, Charlie,’ Holly replied. He’d expected her to drop her gaze, but she looked him straight in the eye as she said it. He could feel his heart breaking.
As he walked out of the living room, down the stairs and out of her life, Charlie had never been more shattered.
40
‘Right, sis, we’re on our own again.’ After a night of staring at the ceiling in her bedroom, forcing herself not to think about the fact that Charlie was probably doing the same a couple of streets away, Holly got back to business.
Rachel, who’d come in to help Holly do the Saturday lunchtime shift at ComIncense while Harry, back out of hospital and on the mend, had lunch with his grandparents, stopped floating the till and looked at her sister inquisitively. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Charlie’s out. He’s no longer going to be acting for Harry. So, it’s back to the campaigning and the direct action if we want to get him the meds he needs.’
‘What? How do you know? Are you sure?’ Rachel sat down on the stool behind the shop counter with a thump.
‘Absolutely sure,’ Holly replied. ‘He came to see me last night, straight from a meeting at the Department of Health and Social Care. He’s been told to drop it.’
‘And he’s going to, just like that?’
Holly’s eyes brimmed with tears at the note of anguish in her sister’s voice, but she blinked them away impatiently. Now was not the time to give in to her own emotions; she had to be there for Rachel and Harry; she had to try to work out their next move. It was clear now that no one else was going to do that. She’d put her faith in Charlie, against her first judgement, and look where that had got her.
