‘You totally were,’ Rachel settled herself on the sofa. ‘But that’s ancient history. What did he say, once he twigged that the sexy owner of the local well-being shop was that girl from all those years ago? Did he remember you?’
Holly drew a deep breath. ‘Well, he reckons he does,’ she said. ‘Although I did rather ambush him in the end with the music, and then the photos, so he probably thinks I’m some madwoman, too.’ She furrowed her brow. ‘Perhaps it was a bit of overkill really. What if he thinks I’ve been holding out for him all this time and I’m some kind of weird stalker?’ Suddenly, dashing away from Charlie before they’d had a chance to talk seemed like a really daft idea. It was like London all over again. Back then, they’d only had a few hours, and afterwards they’d never seen each other again. What if they were destined never to really connect? To be ships that just passed in the night?
‘Oh chill out, sis!’ Rachel countered, sipping her tea. ‘You’re both grown adults. Charlie only has to look at you to see you haven’t spent the last fifteen years pining for him, and if he really needs more proof, you can always whip out the pictures of you and Andrew that are on your Facebook page as proof you’re not some heartbroken damsel. That ought to show him you’ve gone out and got a life in the meantime.’
‘Do you think I’m overthinking things again?’ Holly asked, although she already knew the answer.
‘Of course you are!’ Rachel said. ‘And that was the whole reason you opened up the shop, wasn’t it? To give yourself some quality time and a chance to fulfil your ambitions. To give yourself the thinking space you needed in a proper, legitimate way. We both know what happens when the darkness takes over; the damage it can do.’ Both had seen their father’s anxiety affect his life and theirs over the years, and both had felt it encroaching on them, too, from time to time. The secret was finding the right coping strategy to make life liveable. Holly had her shop, and Rachel now had the goal of getting the right treatment for Harry. It was ironic that, for Rachel, her coping mechanism had come out of the thing that caused her the most anxiety.
‘I think we’ve got a bit more talking to do, anyway,’ Holly mused.
‘Talking, yeah right! Snogging more like.’ Rachel snorted. ‘And a fair bit of catching up to do. “Oh, Charlie, show me your honourable member!”’
‘Oh, bog off,’ Holly laughed. ‘We just kissed.’
‘Yeah, no thanks to me and Harry,’ Rachel said. ‘That’s twice you’ve been cock-blocked by your own nephew. Hopefully it’ll be third time lucky.’
‘I’ll keep you posted,’ Holly smiled. ‘If you’re lucky.’
‘Oh, come on, you have to fuel the fantasies of a knackered single mother somehow,’ Rachel said. She fell silent as the baby monitor crackled into life, but it was only Harry turning over in his sleep. Visibly relaxing, she smiled. ‘Thanks for getting the Creon for me, though. I would have called Mum, but they’re not back home until tomorrow.’
‘It’s fine, honestly,’ Holly replied. ‘And perhaps it’ll give Charlie time to process everything. After all, I’ve had a few weeks to get my head around it!’
‘It’s not like you had some great love affair,’ Rachel said. ‘It was a few hours in a club in London. Not that much to have to process.’
‘True, in one sense,’ Holly acknowledged. ‘But the coincidence of it? Him rocking up as the local MP? A believer in fate, destiny and a greater power might say it was written in the stars.’
Rachel grinned. ‘You might be a believer in all that mystical rubbish, but I’m rather more pragmatic, as you know. But if it makes you feel better about snogging the local MP, who isn’t exactly your soulmate, politically speaking, then you go for it.’
Holly groaned. ‘I was wondering when you were going to get to that. I can’t imagine the kind of discussions we’re likely to have around the dinner table. If we ever get as far as dinner, that is!’
‘You both behaved yourselves at Sunday lunch last weekend,’ Rachel said. ‘Although, since you hadn’t snogged each other at that point, perhaps neither of you wanted to argue about politics.’
‘Ha-ha!’ Holly said mutinously. She glanced at her watch. ‘It’s getting late – I’d better head off.’
‘Thanks again for tonight.’ Rachel shook her head. ‘I’m usually so on it with Harry’s meds, but I’ve really been off my game lately. I’m just crap.’
‘You are not crap!’ Holly replied hotly. ‘You’re doing the best you can under very tricky circumstances. And I don’t know how you manage it. Especially since Harry’s miserable excuse for a father has bogged off to the other side of the world. You do an amazing job and you give Harry everything he needs.’
‘Thanks, sis,’ Rachel replied. ‘It’s just hard, you know, knowing that there’s a drug out there that could make all the difference for Harry, give him, and us, a new lease of life, and yet he can’t have it.’
‘You need to nudge Charlie,’ Holly said. ‘Forget about what’s going on with him and me. Make another appointment to see him and get him to help. He’s the MP, for goodness’ sake. That’s his flipping job.’
‘I will,’ Rachel sighed. ‘As soon as Harry’s settled into nursery, I’ll book in to one of Charlie’s surgeries again. Who knows, Charlie might be able to do some good where Hugo Fitzgerald couldn’t.’
‘I’m sure he will,’ Holly said softly. ‘He seems like a good bloke. And I’m not just saying that because I snogged him tonight.’ She hugged her sister. ‘Call me if you need anything, OK?’
‘I will.’ Rachel smiled. ‘And hopefully I won’t interrupt your next session with Charlie!’
‘‘Night, sis,’ Holly said as she walked to the front door.
As she left Rachel’s place and got in the car to head home, Holly mused on what she and Rachel had discussed. It was still early days with Charlie; should she be the one to broach the subject of Harry’s medication needs with him, or should she leave it to Rachel? She was Harry’s aunt, after all. She was too fuzzy-headed with the stress of tonight, and the earlier excitement of kissing Charlie, to think straight. He’d said he was busy all weekend, and perhaps that was a good thing. They both needed some space to breathe.
19
Charlie wasn’t joking when he said he had a busy weekend ahead. As he’d feared, Westminster business was taking up more time than he’d anticipated and so he found himself catching up with constituency work in the evenings and at weekends. He also had the Summer Fayre to open in one of the smaller villages on his patch on Saturday afternoon, a Youth Speaks debating competition to judge on the Saturday evening and then, on Sunday, a few hours’ work on all of the papers he’d brought back with him. The life of an MP was certainly a busy one, but this was why he’d got into politics in the first place: to feel as though he was making a difference. And he’d got fed up of shouting at the TV and radio about it – he wanted to be part of the change.