‘Order, order!’ The Speaker’s strident voice rang out across the chamber, and those present took their seats.
Charlie swallowed hard; he had five questions to wait before he could ask his, and every second that passed, the butterflies seemed to be breeding in his stomach. Trying to breathe normally, he focused his attention on the Prime Minister, attempting to tune out the rumbles of dissension that greeted the first couple of questions. He didn’t dare look up at the Public Gallery in case he lost the thread of the process, but he could almost feel Holly’s eyes upon him. He hoped he was going to make her proud.
Holly looked over the crowded Commons Chamber and smiled as she observed Charlie. He was sitting with his back ramrod straight, his hands loosely placed in his lap, but the gestures seemed conscious; she knew he was nervous. And no wonder. This was not only a public forum in terms of the amount of people in the chamber itself, but also those in the Public Gallery, which was packed, and it was being simultaneously broadcast on at least two national radio stations, as well as the BBC News channel, Sky News and BBC Parliament.
As a student, she’d been glued to the weekly parliamentary soap opera on the radio, the way that other students had watched Neighbours, and to see it unfolding live in front of her was a real treat. All of the big beasts were there, and although she knew that it was primarily a forum for public broadcasting rather than policy these days, she couldn’t help but feel a frisson of excitement, seeing the Prime Minister, the Home Secretary, the Chancellor of the Exchequer and their shadow counterparts sitting opposite them on the benches.
But time after time her gaze was drawn back to Charlie, sitting patiently, waiting his turn. He probably didn’t realise that when he was nervous his right foot tapped slightly. Apart from that, though, he seemed remarkably composed. She felt as though she was willing him on in a race as the third and fourth questions were asked. The fifth, on funding for Early Years Centres, generated howls of derision at the PM’s response, and for a long, agonising moment, the voice of the Speaker fought to retain order in the chamber. Holly held her breath.
‘Charlie Thorpe!’ the Speaker cut over the top of the rabble-rousing of the chamber and Holly watched, still holding her breath, as Charlie got to his feet.
‘Thank you, Mr Speaker.’ Charlie took a split second to wait for the last of the chatter to die down. ‘Since I moved into the beautiful West Country constituency of Willowbury and Stavenham, I have got to know the people who have made the place their home. Among them is the family of three-year-old Harry Jamieson, born with cystic fibrosis, who currently takes a cocktail of drugs and inhales a series of nebulisers every single day of his young life in order to stem the effects of the condition.’ Charlie paused, even though the chamber, seemingly out of respect for the issue, had fallen silent. ‘Does the Prime Minster agree that it is time to re-evaluate the position of the NHS in regard to the funding of next generation of cystic fibrosis drugs, and enter into further discussions with the pharmaceutical companies, so that Harry and patients like him could have the possibility of a healthier, more extended life?’
As the ‘hear hears’ echoed around the chamber, from both sides of the benches, Holly’s heart thumped.
‘I thank the Honourable Gentleman for his question,’ the Prime Minister said as the noise died away. ‘And I sympathise with the position of the constituents of which he speaks so eloquently. I will ensure the Department of Health and Social Care looks into the reasons for this stalemate and responds as soon as possible.’
Holly let out her breath. It was a standard response, that was for sure, but she couldn’t help but hope it meant more than it appeared to. After all, raising the issue so publicly had to be good for something. She’d known full well that the Prime Minister wouldn’t wave a magic wand, but she hoped, somehow, that she’d just witnessed a metaphorical one.
As the next speaker was called, Holly looked back towards Charlie. His expression was carefully composed and gave nothing away. She hoped that he’d be able to interpret the Prime Minister’s response later when they met. She, certainly, was none the wiser.
36
Holly waited nervously out in the lobby, dodging journalists and MPs meeting guests and escaping for lunch. Charlie had said he’d meet her here and give her the keys to his flat, so she could freshen up before their dinner date. She felt such a combination of emotions, having seen Charlie acquit himself with grace and panache on the chamber floor. Not a trace of nerves had marred his voice as he’d risen and asked his question, and her heart nearly burst with pride. If Harry and Rachel had been in the audience, Charlie had planned to refer the House’s attention to them, but since they weren’t, he’d avoided drawing attention to Holly; it wouldn’t have had quite the same impact, and may well have put him off his stride.
The lobby was a hive of activity, but eventually Holly saw Charlie heading out of the chamber and across the hall towards her. He was deep in conversation with a woman, who was smiling at him and obviously congratulating him on his debut, resting her hand briefly on his upper arm to make a point. Holly felt a slight prickle of jealousy before she hastily quashed it; it was daft to feel anything like that when Charlie was clearly just being professional. It was all part of the act, she knew. Perhaps it was the parliamentary setting, but just for a moment she suddenly felt like the student rep she’d been fifteen years ago when, as part of the conference she’d attended, she’d visited this place. It had felt intimidating then, and although she had a more personal connection now, that sense of her own insignificance hadn’t really gone away.
‘Holly!’ Charlie spotted her and hurried over, with the woman he’d been talking to following in his wake. Aware that they were in public, Holly resisted the urge to fling her arms around him in congratulation and settled for giving him a kiss on the cheek.
‘Well done,’ she breathed into his ear. ‘You were absolutely brilliant.’
Charlie smiled broadly as they broke apart. ‘Thank you. And thanks so much for coming.’ He turned to the woman who was standing next to him. ‘Holly, this is Sally Okeden, who runs one of the bigger cystic fibrosis charities. I dropped her a line to see if she wanted to come down today as well. Given your campaigning on Harry’s behalf, I thought it might be useful if you two connected.’
Holly shook the other woman’s hand, suddenly feeling much warmer towards her now she knew who she was. ‘It’s lovely to meet you.’
‘You too,’ Sally replied. ‘I’ve seen your picture on Twitter a few times – you’ve been making the cause really visible lately, even without Charlie’s help here.’
‘It’s all for my nephew Harry,’ Holly said. ‘Although having Charlie to support us really helps. Our old MP wasn’t what you’d call helpful at all.’
Sally smiled. ‘Make use of him while you can,’ she said, glancing in Charlie’s direction. ‘Allies in this game can be short-lived.’
Holly felt a strange chill down her spine. She knew that politics was an ever-shifting landscape, but she still hoped that Charlie wouldn’t just cut and run if things became unfashionable. For Harry’s sake, she hoped her instincts were right, and not just clouded by emotion.