‘Tickets from London Paddington and Reading?’ Lydia had reached his row of seats and was looking expectantly at him.
He immediately knew from the expression that flickered across her face before she composed it into a more neutrally friendly one that she was aware of that awful AllFeed story. His face grew hot as he tried to compose himself. His eyes pricked in frustration, and he cleared his throat.
‘Have you got a ticket, my love?’ Lydia asked him kindly. She was smiling down at him, her eyes full of world-weary been-there-seen-it-heard-it-all humour, and Charlie had the sudden, inexplicable urge to give in and cry.
Realising the game was up, he decided that honesty was the best policy. ‘I’m so sorry,’ he said quietly. ‘It’s confession time. I left my season ticket on the kitchen table before I went to work this morning.’ Wearily he reached for his wallet. ‘How much do I owe you?’
Lydia’s smile broadened. ‘Well, I feel like I should be wearing a dog collar tonight! You’re the third person who’s fessed up to not having the right ticket, or even a ticket at all. Must be getting close to the weekend.’ She glanced behind her furtively. ‘Look, I know this train was a few minutes late as the previous one was cancelled, which probably meant that you were inconvenienced, especially since you’ve had to stand since Paddington.’ She glanced meaningfully at him. ‘I saw you give up your seat for that lovely pregnant lady. Doesn’t seem like the kind of thing someone with your apparent reputation would do, really.’
‘You’ve seen that news story, then?’
‘Yup.’ Lydia smiled. ‘Just remember that today’s top story is tomorrow’s clickbait, regardless of how true it is, or not. Interesting that that so-called source didn’t give their name.’
‘They very rarely do when they’re making stuff up,’ Charlie muttered.
‘Your Holly doesn’t seem the sort to be taken in by anyone, either,’ Lydia continued. ‘Knows her own mind, from what else I’ve seen across the media. Wouldn’t want to be seen as some helpless girl.’
‘She’s not my Holly any more, if she ever was, but she definitely wouldn’t want to be seen as that,’ Charlie agreed. ‘But I still don’t know who stuck the boot in.’
‘Oh, people will do anything to get what they want,’ Lydia replied. ‘I’m sure office politics are even worse, working where you do. Made any enemies lately?’
‘You’re asking a politician?’ Charlie was surprised to hear his own laughter, albeit rather more brittle than it would usually be. ‘I’ll have to make a list.’
‘But, anyway, what do I know?’ Lydia smiled knowingly and looked down at her ticket machine. ‘Now, onto this missing ticket. I know you’re a regular on this service, and I’ve seen your season ticket a fair few times, so let’s say no more about it. Show me your ticket next time. I’m sure you won’t forget it again!’
Charlie swallowed hard and suddenly found he had immense trouble speaking. He looked down at his shoes, frightened to look up at her in case he disgraced himself and the stiff upper lip his father was so fond of failed him. Dignity at all times, Charlie. ‘Thank you,’ he said quietly. ‘I appreciate it.’
‘No problem,’ Lydia replied. Glancing around again, to make sure there was nothing more urgent requiring her attention, she put a hand briefly on Charlie’s shoulder. ‘You can only do what you can do. Remember that, Charlie Thorpe.’
As she moved down the carriage to check the remaining tickets, Charlie felt his barely-there composure start to crumble. He hadn’t realised how close to the edge he was until one person’s kindness sent him hurtling over it. As he stared fixedly down at his shoes, hot, heavy tears, the first he’d shed in a long time, dripped warmly onto his clenched hands.
44
By the time he’d got on the connection to Willowbury, Charlie was feeling less distraught and more up to facing the hell of the news story. With Tom on the case, he was sure everything would be sorted out and the facts righted in no time. He was almost feeling optimistic by the time he’d agreed to meet Tom at the constituency office. Taking a bottle of whisky along might be a bit premature, but he had faith it would all turn out all right, once Tom told him who he suspected the source was.
One look at Tom’s face as he pushed open the front door to the office was enough to make all hope flee, however. Charlie had never seen the man so angry.
‘What the fuck were you thinking?’ Tom shouted, before Charlie could open his mouth and say anything. ‘Going on national television and publicly denouncing Holly and her case without even a thought for the bad publicity it would generate?’
‘What? I didn’t…’ Charlie was befuddled.
‘You might as well just have twirled a moustache and given an evil laugh, the way the media’s painting you right now.’
‘Ruth Middleton…’ Charlie sighed, instantly seeing the reporter’s cool stare in his mind’s eye. ‘She caught me on the hop. And I had no idea Holly was going to be smack in the middle of that demonstration until I got there. Seeing her, I just lost the thread of what I was saying.’
‘Oh, so you decided to publicly step away from the campaign that you became the poster boy for after PMQs and not expect any fallout? Not only do you look like a total prat, now, but you look like an indecisive, heartless one, too. And add that to that fucking awful Charlie the Cad story on AllFeed, it’s a wonder the selection committee aren’t calling for your resignation.’ Tom began to pace the threadbare carpet of the office. ‘Didn’t I tell you enough times that the first rule of politics is never to be doorstepped – talk to the press on your own terms. It seems Holly knows that better than you do.’
At the mention of her name, Charlie’s heart lurched. ‘Have you spoken to her?’
‘No,’ Tom replied. ‘I thought it was best to keep some distance between her and this office for now, until I’ve worked out who the hell fed that pile of crap to AllFeed in the first place.’
‘You said you had your suspicions?’ Charlie said, relieved that the barrage he was facing seemed to be ending.
‘I do indeed.’ Tom stopped pacing and rummaged in his briefcase, open on the desk.
‘Well?’ Charlie suddenly felt very stressed and very, very tired. It had been a long week, and it wasn’t over yet. He wished he could turn to Holly for comfort, but he’d be the last person she’d want to see.
‘If I’m right, this all goes back to Miles Fairbrother.’ Tom passed Charlie a piece of what looked like fax paper.
‘What’s this?’ Charlie couldn’t make any sense of the information.
‘As you know, Miles was more than just put out when Holly bought the freehold to the building where she now runs her shop. He’d been gagging to expand the bakery for years and wanted any excuse to put the boot in once he realised that she’d bought one of the prime locations on the High Street outright, and with her grandfather’s money, too.’
‘She once told me that Miles and her grandfather had had some kind of falling out.’ Charlie furrowed his brow. ‘But why would Miles want to get me out of a job, too? He’s been sucking up to me since I got into the seat.’