10
‘So, I had that Charlie Thorpe on my massage table last night,’ Holly said playfully as she handed Rachel the folded-up T-shirts she’d been taking off the washing line in Rachel’s neat back garden. Rachel was housebound with Harry for a few days, as his stomach was playing up. Tummy troubles were a symptom of his condition, and while he was, on the whole, a healthy, happy little boy, apart from the obvious, when he did have a health wobble, it tended to put the brakes on family fun. As a result, Rachel was going slightly stir-crazy in her house in one of Willowbury’s modern new-build cul-de-sacs, so Holly had shut up shop and headed over to the house, picking up an easy dinner for her and Rachel on the way.
‘Oh really?’ Rachel raised a wry eyebrow. ‘Isn’t there some sort of practitioner-client confidentiality involved in massage? Should you really be telling me that?’
Holly grinned. ‘I trust your absolute discretion, of course!’
‘So, what you’re telling me is that he’s only been in the area a few weeks and you’ve already got his kit off? You’re a fast mover these days, sis.’
Holly flung one of Harry’s vests at her sister. ‘It wasn’t like that,’ she said. ‘Besides, it’s weird enough seeing him around, let alone actually seeing him with his shirt off.’ Realising she might have said too much, she grabbed some more washing off the line and concentrated on folding.
‘Why’s it weird?’ Rachel’s brow furrowed. ‘I mean, apart from him being the new MP, of course. But you met enough of them in your days as a student party member not to be freaked out by that.’
Holly paused. She’d made it clear to her mother that she didn’t want the information that she’d met Charlie before being shared, but she trusted Rachel, and apart from a little good-natured ribbing, her sister could be relied upon not to broadcast it to all and sundry. Rachel had teased her, often, about how much the previously strait-laced Holly had loosened her stays over the years, and perhaps she should know that there was a small, missing puzzle piece now that Charlie Thorpe had rocked up in Willowbury.
‘So, Mum gave me back a suitcase from their loft the other day,’ Holly said, trying to inject a casual tone into her speech. ‘And it turns out that, according to some very old photos, and you’ll never believe this, me and Charlie have actually met before.’
‘Really?’ Rachel paused in her own folding. Glancing to where Harry was playing contentedly with the toys in his tabletop sandpit, making sure he wasn’t up to no good, she looked questioningly at Holly. ‘When? And I’m hoping you don’t mean in a past life or something, because that’s not something I, personally, can buy into!’
‘Oh, ha-ha,’ Holly threw a line-dried flannel at her sister, who caught it, folded it and popped it on her own pile of washing. ‘You remember that conference I went to in my first year at university? When I was still really into party politics.’
Rachel snorted. ‘Party line doesn’t even begin to cover it! That old boyfriend of yours from school has a lot to answer for.’
‘OK, OK,’ Holly said. ‘Let’s not go down that road.’ She placed the clothes she had folded into Rachel’s washing basket. ‘Anyway, it turns out that I met Charlie at that conference… and I, er, well… that’s to say we…’
‘Oh my God, you didn’t shag him?’ Rachel’s jaw hit the floor. ‘But you were in the no-sex-before-marriage brigade back then, too! That’s basically why Simon dumped you during your A Levels!’
Holly rolled her eyes. ‘Chill out, sis. I didn’t shag him.’ And, stung, even after all these years, she couldn’t help adding, ‘And Simon didn’t dump me because of that. We made each other bloody miserable for a whole bunch of other, teenage-angst-related reasons, not sex!’
‘So why did he end up going out with Chantelle the village slapper straight after you, then?’ Rachel teased.
‘Ask him,’ Holly replied tartly. ‘But the fact is, Charlie and I have met before. And we kissed a little bit back then. And, to be honest, I’m feeling a bit weird about it.’
‘Does he remember you?’ Rachel asked, as, washing all off the line, she slumped down into one of her garden lounge chairs.
Holly shook her head. ‘I don’t think so. I mean, he’d have said something by now if he did, surely.’
‘Perhaps he just feels a bit awkward bringing it up,’ Rachel said. ‘I mean, you haven’t said anything to him yet, have you?’
Holly shook her head. ‘I feel pretty awkward, too, to be honest. I mean, I’d completely forgotten about him until I found a photo of him in that suitcase.’ She didn’t add that she wasn’t that keen to revisit the dorkier elements of her teenage years – she was definitely a different person then to the one she was now.
‘So, are you going to say anything?’ Rachel asked.
‘Oh, I don’t know.’ Holly put her head back on the sun lounger she’d sat down on, lifting her ponytail to get some air to her suddenly sweaty neck. ‘It was such a brief encounter, it hardly seems worth it. And yet, it’s making me feel a bit weird that I remember it and I don’t know if he does.’
‘Just ask him, then!’ Rachel said. She smiled as Harry came trotting up to her carrying a small, castle-shaped bucket full of play sand. ‘One thing being mother to this munchkin has taught me is that you need to seize the day whenever you can. No point hiding behind things that are worrying you.’ She took the plastic spoon that Harry was offering her and pretended to take a big mouthful of the sand. ‘Mmm, that’s lovely. Is it chocolate?’
Harry giggled. ‘No, Mummy!’ He toddled around to Holly. ‘Aunty Holly want some?’
‘Thanks, gorgeous,’ Holly said, taking the spoon and doing the same. Looking at Harry’s sweet, open face, she realised exactly where Rachel’s carpe diem advice was coming from. Not a day was wasted in Harry’s life; they were all too precious. ‘Perhaps I will,’ Holly mused. ‘But, in the meantime, don’t mention it to him, if you see him, will you? I’ll do it in my own time.’
‘I’ll be the soul of discretion,’ Rachel assured her. ‘So long as you give me all the gory details when you do tell him!’
‘He’ll probably just laugh in my face,’ Holly said. ‘After all, it was fifteen years ago, and only a couple of hours of our lives. Not exactly the love affair of the century!’
‘You never know,’ Rachel said. ‘He seems nothing if not polite, from what I’ve seen of him in the media. I’m sure he’ll be tickled to be reminded.’ She gave Holly a mischievous look. ‘And since you’ve already got your hands on him on your massage bed, it seems only fair to mention your prior connection!’
Holly felt her face flushing, and it wasn’t entirely because of the warmth of the afternoon. ‘If the moment arises, I’ll drop it into conversation,’ she said. ‘But for the moment, I’d better head off. I’ve got Harriet Meadows coming in for another massage this afternoon.’