‘It was after I’d given him a back massage, so he might not have been in his right mind,’ Holly sipped her wine and tried to quell the butterflies in her stomach. ‘Perhaps he’ll do us a favour and cry off when he’s come to his senses.’
‘Or perhaps you’ll have to suck it up and just make sure you ply him with enough booze round Mum and Dad’s dinner table that he forgets what a closet nerd you are!’
‘Thanks for the moral support, sis,’ Holly replied. ‘And remember, not a word about the photo-in-the-suitcase business, or you’ll be wearing the trifle rather than eating it.’
‘I’ll be the soul of discretion,’ Rachel said. ‘But don’t you think it’s about time you told him, just to get it out in the open?’
‘Probably,’ agreed Holly, ‘but it just seems so random. I mean, we’ve chatted a lot, but I still haven’t found the right time to mention it. It’s hardly like, when he’s on my massage table, I can just casually drop it into conversation, is it? “Oh, by the way, it seems like you clearly don’t remember one night fifteen years ago when we had a bit of a kiss and you held my hand.”’ She shook her head in exasperation. ‘Maybe I’m overthinking it.’
‘You think?’ Rachel rolled her eyes. ‘But I promise I won’t say anything. Better remind Mum not to, as well, though. You know what she’s like after a glass of wine!’
‘I threatened to burn the whole case if she said anything,’ Holly replied. ‘And I would, too.’
‘Fair enough.’ There was a pause as the two sisters sipped their wine. It had been a busy week for them both. Rachel had enrolled Harry into the local nursery school, and she was preparing herself for handing over his care to them for sixteen hours a week. ‘How did Harry get on at his orientation morning at nursery?’
‘Really well,’ Rachel replied. ‘He loved the staff, and all the new toys were definitely a good reason to go back, he said.’
‘Sounds encouraging,’ Holly said carefully. She knew that, underneath her quiet, capable and calm facade, Rachel was likely to be more than a bit nervous about handing over Harry to anyone else, if only for a short time each week. ‘And you’re OK with it?’
Rachel paused. ‘Yes, I think so.’ She sighed. ‘I know I should be preparing myself to take a step back, with him starting school this year, but it’s been just me and Harry for so long, since Callum and I went our separate ways, that I’m struggling to let go of the reins. And there’s the risks of illness and infection, of course.’
‘The nursery’s got a great reputation,’ Holly said. ‘And they’re small enough to be able to give him all of the support he needs. I’m sure he’ll be fine.’
‘Oh, so am I, really,’ Rachel said. ‘It’s just that I worry about him picking up a bug. I mean, I know all kids do, but it puts him back for days, if not weeks, at a time.’
Holly’s heart ached for Rachel. As Harry’s aunt, she knew to a certain extent how tricky managing his condition could be, but it was Rachel who coped, largely alone, with the day-to-day issues. And Rachel who had to contend with the fact that her beloved son could gain valuable years of his life if given access to the next generation of medications. In the three years since Harry had come into her life, she’d become almost as much as an expert on cystic fibrosis as Rachel had, but it still frustrated and saddened her that the government couldn’t come to an agreement about the funding of the new drugs.
‘But today I did get to see your Sunday lunch guest in his official capacity,’ Rachel continued. ‘I thought I’d book an appointment since Harry had his session at nursery, and I’ve given him all of the information to look at, so who knows?’
‘I hope he can help,’ Holly said carefully. As an MP, she still couldn’t quite trust that Charlie would help, but from what she was beginning to get to know about him as a person, he seemed sincere in his desire to change things and engage with his constituents. ‘Let me know what happens.’
‘Oh, I will,’ Rachel said. ‘And you keep me posted, too. I can’t wait to hear how he reacts when you do eventually come clean to him about your scandalous past!’
Holly picked up the cushion that was in her lap and chucked it at her sister. ‘Scandalous, my arse! You were just taking the piss about how boring and square I still am.’
‘Even so, I bet he’ll be surprised,’ Rachel said. ‘And you might end up underneath him for non-mouse related reasons, if you play your cards right!’
Holly snorted. ‘One step at a time. Besides, who says I want that to happen?’
‘Really?’ Rachel raised an eyebrow. ‘I think you and I have both been single for entirely too long, and I’m pretty convinced that, if he’s said yes to Sunday lunch with our folks, he must be keen on you. You could do worse, you know.’
‘I’m perfectly happy as I am, thanks,’ Holly said primly, although, even as she said it, she thought back to the flapping butterflies she’d experienced when Charlie had landed on top of her. And perhaps if she managed Sunday lunch without a hitch, she’d be a little more relaxed the next time he came in for a massage. Finishing her wine glass, she stood up. ‘I’d better go. Weekends have been busy in the shop since the weather got warmer, so I’ll have to open up on time tomorrow.’
‘See you on Sunday, if not before,’ Rachel said, rising and seeing her to the door. ‘And don’t forget to include an aphrodisiac or two on the Sunday lunch menu if you really want to get Charlie’s trousers off again! I’m sure you’ve got a few in the jars in the shop.’
‘No comment.’ Holly grinned as she left. Her sister, when she allowed herself to let go of some of her ever-present worries about Harry, really was incorrigible.
15
Charlie wasn’t quite sure what he’d imagined when he’d thought about Holly’s parents, but something along the lines of Meet the Fockers had sprung to mind pretty soon after he’d met Holly. Surely someone with her passionate belief in all things alternative, spiritual and green could only have sprung from the loins of two hippies, probably full of sixties zeal for free love, peace and the odd spliff?
It came as quite a surprise, then, and not a little relief, that when he came face to face with Mr and Mrs Renton for Sunday lunch, they were conventionally dressed, lived in a spacious four-bedroom bungalow in the suburbs of Willowbury and there wasn’t a dreamcatcher in sight at any of their large, double-glazed windows. He was doubly relieved that he hadn’t brought along a bottle of Monk’s Mead from the independent alcohol retailer on the High Street but had opted instead for a regular bottle of Sancerre, albeit an organic one, just to be on the safe side.
‘So, how are you finding Willowbury life?’ Vivian Renton asked as she handed him a glass of lager, cool from the fridge in the spacious kitchen.
‘It’s been interesting so far,’ Charlie replied, smiling. ‘But in a lot of good ways, of course,’ he added hastily.
Vivian smiled back. ‘Don’t worry – we’re incomers to the town ourselves, in a way. We lived closer to Bristol before we moved down here, which is where the girls grew up, but when Harry was diagnosed with his condition we wanted to be more on the doorstep.’