‘Yup,’ Holly replied, ‘my shop won’t run itself, and you’ve got a job to do, too, remember.’
‘How could I forget?’ Charlie’s voice was getting breathier as he tried, and failed, to focus on her voice rather than her body. Holly felt another surge of heat as she saw how close he was to losing control. ‘But I’ll be… home… tonight.’ He lost the battle.
As she toppled over the edge of her own precipice, throbbing and beating in time to Charlie’s own rhythm, Holly felt that she, too, was finally coming home.
38
Charlie couldn’t stop grinning as he finally made it to his desk just after 9 a.m. He wanted to start every morning that way, he thought. As he logged onto the Commons wi-fi and waited for his email to load, he considered sending Holly a quick text. She’d be on the train by now, probably as far as Reading; he hoped she’d managed to get a seat. They’d arranged to meet later that evening for another quiet dinner at The Travellers’ Rest, and he planned to persuade her to come home with him after that. Although they lived so close together, he couldn’t bear to be parted from her any longer than was necessary.
‘You’re in love, Charlie,’ he said to himself as, finally, the email screen loaded. ‘No sense trying to deny it. She’s got right to you, and no mistake.’
Scanning through the title lines on the emails that had arrived overnight, his heart thumped as he saw one from the chair of the Health and Social Care Committee he’d observed the previous week. Perhaps he’d got himself noticed after all, he thought. Then, directly below it, there was another, more heart-thumping email from the Secretary of State for Health and Social Care herself. Clicking on it immediately, when he read the contents, the coffee cup he’d been holding in his other hand froze on the way to his lips.
Charlie,
I note with interest your association with the campaign for CF drugs as part of NHS spending. Are you free to discuss further? Might I suggest meeting in my office at 2.30 p.m. tomorrow (Friday) to explore the current position and discuss a possible way forward?
Sincerely,
Cora Mellish,
Secretary of State for Health and Social Care.
Heart racing, Charlie didn’t even waste time to think and sent an instant reply accepting the meeting.
This is it, he thought triumphantly. This, it seemed, was the first step into a bigger presence in the Department of Health and Social Care. And a step on the road to helping Harry and the other CF patients.
Of course, if he was now occupied in London until tomorrow afternoon, it meant he wouldn’t get home to Willowbury that night, which meant no dinner with Holly.
With a pang of regret, he tried to call her, but reception was obviously not great while she was in transit to the West Country. He texted her quickly, not elaborating too much but letting her know that, as an upshot of his question, he had a meeting to attend at the Department of Health and Social Care. He’d fill her in on the details when he knew more after tomorrow. He hoped, by then, he’d finally be able to give her and Rachel the good news they’d been waiting for.
After a sleepless night on Thursday, and a restless morning in his office, Charlie headed over to the Department of Health and Social Care with a thumping heart. He was intrigued to know what the formidable Cora Mellish would have to say, and he hoped it would be worth the lost hours of sleep.
Cora met him in the foyer of the building and escorted him personally to her large office overlooking the Thames. She was a petite, blonde woman with a penchant for statement shoes, and her sharp blue eyes regarded Charlie keenly, seemingly assessing and weighing him up.
‘Take a seat, Charlie,’ she said in her broad Scottish brogue. ‘Coffee?’
‘Thanks,’ Charlie replied, willing his hands not to shake as he picked up the bone-china cup and saucer. He refused the offer of a piece of shortbread for fear of choking on it out of nerves.
‘Well, you certainly know how to get yourself noticed,’ Cora said, once they’d both had a sip of their respective coffees. ‘Only just taken over the Willowbury and Stavenham seat and already asking a question at PMQs. That takes bollocks.’
Charlie was surprised at the frankness of her language. ‘I’ve always been a risk taker,’ he replied, not entirely truthfully. In his experience, there were few things he considered taking risks for, except perhaps those he cared about. There was no doubt that Holly and her family fell into that category now.
‘The Department of Health and Social Care isn’t exactly a risk-friendly place, though,’ Cora said meditatively. ‘We prefer a rather more measured approach. Raising an emotive issue like drug funding for CF in the theatre of the Commons itself is rather too dramatic for our liking.’
Charlie felt his stomach turn over. Was this an official telling-off? If so, why summon him all the way over here? Cora could have just bollocked him by email. ‘I apologise, Minister, if I spoke out of turn. I do have a constituency interest in the outcome of the latest CF drug-funding discussions, though.’
‘I’m well aware of your interest,’ Cora replied smoothly. ‘And perhaps, on this occasion, given your inexperience in matters of the House, your rashness in raising this issue while the committee is still in session could be forgiven, if you redirect your energies into something less controversial.’
‘What are you saying, Minister?’ Charlie’s mind was whirling. Cora Mellish couldn’t be warning him off this case, could she?
‘I’m saying, Charlie, that getting yourself involved in something so complex at this early stage in your career could, by some, be considered a foolhardy move. One which might do your own standing more harm than good and also not accomplish a great deal in terms of moving the talks with the drug companies forward.’ She finished her coffee and set the cup down on the saucer with a crisp chime, which echoed the tone of her voice.
‘Are you telling me to drop this issue?’ Charlie put his own cup and saucer down on the minister’s desk with a clatter.
‘I’m telling you that there is more at stake here than just the new CF drugs,’ Cora replied. ‘Even if we can come to an arrangement with the pharmaceutical company, that money, as I’m sure you’re aware, has to come from somewhere. The NHS is not a bottomless pit of resources. Are you sure you want to be the one to have to balance the books, for this relatively small issue?’
‘It might be small to you, Minister, but there are lives at stake here, every time we push the pause button on discussions. Lives that don’t have the luxury of time, as I’m sure you’re aware.’ Charlie tried to keep his voice level, aware that antagonising Cora was not the best path to promotion within her department. He drew a deep breath. ‘Is there a way forward?’
Cora smiled without warmth. ‘There might be.’ She paused, her direct blue stare making the suggestion that she hadn’t yet voiced.
‘You want me to step back from the issue,’ Charlie supplied, his heart sinking.
‘Let the committee do its job, Charlie,’ Cora’s voice was suddenly lower, quieter. ‘That’s what it’s there for. If these new drugs are cost-effective and worthwhile to fund on the NHS, they’ll recommend it to government. If not, the money gets spent elsewhere, on equally important issues.’