‘Sounds good.’ They’d reached the front door of ComIncense again, and Holly paused. ‘I look forward to it.’
‘Me too,’ Charlie replied. Then he dipped his head and kissed her again. ‘I’ll see you soon.’
‘I can’t wait,’ Holly said, insides churning again.
As Charlie left, Holly, knowing that she had the most ridiculous grin plastered on her face, pushed open the shop door.
‘I take it you two have made it up, then?’ Rachel asked as she clocked the look on her sister’s face.
‘You could say that,’ Holly grinned. ‘Although, considering Charlie’s just agreed to be my date for Willowfest, how long for, I really don’t know!’
‘Does he know what he’s letting himself in for?’ Rachel laughed. ‘It’s probably a bit more, er, alternative than he’s used to.’
‘I did tell him about some of it,’ Holly replied, ‘but I think it’s probably best he experiences it for himself.’
One thing was for certain, Holly thought, if Charlie didn’t run screaming from the Folk and Fey festival, he’d certainly experience the best Willowbury had to offer that weekend.
24
Charlie wasn’t joking when he’d said he had a busy time between then and his date with Holly for Willowfest. The House was in full swing, and, because of his interest in becoming more involved in the Department of Health and Social Care, he’d also earmarked some time on Tuesday to observe the next meeting of the Health and Social Care Committee. Although membership of the committee was out of the question at this early stage in his career, he hoped to listen, learn and get his face known by the Chair, with a view to joining it later on in his tenure. Sometimes, the route to advancement was about who you connected with, rather than what you knew. And nowhere more so, it seemed, than in Westminster.
Charlie was well used to networking from his days as a House of Commons researcher, and having worked in the Palace of Westminster before he got his parliamentary seat, he knew his way around fairly well. He wasn’t a natural ‘operator’, as so many politicians seemed to be; he struggled to make the seemingly inconsequential small talk that might lead someone into further confidences that he could use to his advantage, preferring to connect with people on a more personal and sincere level where he could. He knew that there were plenty like him in the House; it was just that those who knew how to play the game instinctively were the ones who tended to rise the fastest. However, a fair number of them fell quickly, too, he consoled himself.
He glanced through the briefing notes that were available to those who might be interested in attending the session and felt his heart start to beat a bit faster. The committee was in the process of discussing the issues around funding the next generation of cystic fibrosis drugs, and their next session was going to be focused on it. Reading through the document swiftly, he then did a quick search of the Hansard records to find out if anyone had spoken on the issue lately. It appeared he may be in luck, as seconds later, he’d established that the last debate in the House was well over a year ago. This seemed to be because talks with the governing bodies and the drug companies had ground to a halt. Was now the time to bring the issue to light again?
It wasn’t as if he didn’t have reason to raise this issue; indeed, it directly affected at least one family in his own constituency, and he was fairly sure he’d be able to find out quickly if there were any more people whose lives were touched by it in his area. And he already had a clutch of paperwork and research materials that had been given to him as a starting point.
And, a small voice, which he quietly hushed inside his head, added, it will really impress Holly if you do this.
That, of course, wasn’t his reason for thinking this way, at all. But, he thought, with a flush of excitement, it couldn’t hurt.
But he needed to sit in on the committee first; after all, if there were already developments there, it might render tabling an Adjournment Debate on the issue redundant and make him look behind the curve. Or like some overenthusiastic idiot who didn’t know what he was talking about. This early on in his parliamentary career, he couldn’t afford to make that kind of mistake.
Plenty of time for that later, he thought wryly. Several of the more infamous soundbites from his colleagues on both benches sprang to mind.
When Tuesday dawned, Charlie ensured he got to the committee room early, bagged a good seat and prepared to absorb some information. If things worked out as he hoped, he’d be well briefed by the end of the afternoon.
After two hours of listening to the testimony of doctors, an adult cystic fibrosis patient and various representatives of charities and research organisations, Charlie felt both hugely moved and far better informed. There seemed little doubt that the drug Rachel and Holly had been campaigning so hard for would, hopefully, make a huge difference to many CF patients’ lives, hopefully including little Harry. So why wasn’t this being taken forward by the NHS?
Charlie returned to his office and thought carefully. After a little while, he drafted an email to his agent back in Willowbury. Tom was a fount of information about how best to proceed, and Charlie was confident that he’d know the best approach to take.
A short time later, Tom duly replied, and Charlie raised his eyebrows in surprise. Tom had suggested that, instead of tabling an Adjournment Debate, which Charlie would have to wait to do until he’d delivered his maiden speech in the House, Charlie put his name and question forward to go into the ballot for none other than Prime Minister’s Questions. The response wasn’t quite what he’d expected, but he trusted the man’s judgement and decided to go with it. After all, there were few more visible platforms than the one he had suggested, and, if nothing else, it would get his face out there to the public, and his voice known to those who tuned in on the radio. The wording, of course, would have to be checked with Tom, too, but Charlie suddenly felt a frisson of excitement. If he was selected to ask his question, not only would he get his voice heard, but it would garner much-needed publicity for Harry and the other CF patients across the country. Of course, it all depended on the ballot; his question might well not be picked, but it was definitely worth a go to get his name, and the cause, out there. Also, he thought, with some sense of relief, being picked for PMQs was an acceptable substitute for a maiden speech: he’d be free to table an Adjournment Debate later on if he wanted to, having popped his parliamentary cherry.
Charlie paused. As a politician, he needed a healthy dose of pragmatism; it wasn’t always possible to make the decisions people wanted. As a human being, and, more specifically in this case, a close friend (and hopefully, so much more) of the aunt of a CF patient, his heart was telling him he should be shouting his support for the cause for new medication from the rooftops of the House.
Grabbing the notepad from his desk drawer, he began to draft a series of versions of the question he wanted to ask. The wording had to be spot on; neither accusatory that the government had stalled, nor piling blame on the pharmaceutical companies, whom the Health Executive had to work with if the deal for this drug was going to be negotiated successfully. It was harder than he thought to strike the right tone, but this platform was the biggest he was likely to get. And time was short; the deadline was fast approaching. He’d better get a move on.