‘Below the belt,’ Mike muttered as he topped up a pint of Guinness for a regular.
Charlie took a moment to compose himself. ‘I am surprised by the Honourable Member’s point, to be honest,’ he began. ‘Given that the issue we are discussing is of such importance and any adverse news reporting is entirely peripheral. As I was saying…’ And he picked back up with the last quarter of his speech.
‘Well played,’ came a call from the back of the pub.
Holly breathed out again. As Charlie finished his speech and, at last, seated himself back on the green bench, Holly saw a tissue being thrust into her hand. It was only then she realised she was crying.
54
It was around six thirty by the time Charlie stepped off the train at Willowbury. All the way back from London, he’d been reliving the two hours of the debate, which had been the most exhilarating and terrifying two hours of his life. The sheer adrenaline rush of presenting the information, and then thinking on his feet, had kept him buzzing long after he exited the chamber, picked up his paperwork and decided, on impulse, to head back to Willowbury for the night. It would mean an early train back in the morning, but he didn’t care; he wasn’t sure he’d end up sleeping, anyway, he was so wired. And, in truth, there was only one place he wanted to be tonight, and one person he wanted to see.
As he approached the High Street, the sound of revelry from The Travellers’ Rest was drifting on the early-evening air, which was humid, although admittedly fresher than London. Drawing closer, he saw Jack Winter sitting out on one of the picnic benches in the front of the pub, who waved at him and then raised his glass with his other hand.
‘Ah,’ he said, when Charlie was in speaking distance ‘here’s the man of the hour. Well done.’
Charlie grinned, still high on adrenaline. ‘Thanks. I did my best.’
‘Virtually the whole town watched it in the pub,’ Jack continued. ‘And it seemed only right to carry on the party after you’d finished.’
Charlie glanced inside the open door of the pub and saw that the bar was still pretty packed. ‘Is, er, Holly in there?’ he asked.
Jack grinned. ‘Somewhere.’
Feeling a most unaccustomed flutter of butterflies in his stomach, which, he considered, was ridiculous after leading the Adjournment Debate today, Charlie took a deep breath and headed into the pub.
A cheer went up as he crossed the threshold, and a pint of Carter’s Gold was thrust into his hand in moments. He took a sip quickly, as his mouth had gone suddenly dry as he caught sight of Holly standing with Rachel at the bar. She was waiting for another drink, her long red hair distinctive in the crowd of punters that thronged around the pub. Negotiating his way carefully towards her, pint in hand, his knees started to tremble more violently than they had in the chamber. Winning Holly’s stamp of approval was even more important now than ever before.
As he drew nearer, she turned in his direction, and, visibly surprised he should appear so swiftly in the pub, having only been on screen a few hours ago, she put her glass back down on the bar.
‘Hey,’ she said softly as he drew a little closer to her. The crowd parted slightly to let him through, and Charlie noticed quite a few glances in their direction.
‘Hey,’ he replied. The pause, the long list of things not yet spoken, hung in the air between them. It was as if both were just trying to reconnect to the reality of being in the same room after an emotionally charged day.
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake!’ Rachel, relaxed after a few glasses of wine, butted in between them and gave Charlie a huge hug. ‘She’s obviously incapable of speech, or starstruck or something, but I’m not. Well done. You did brilliantly.’
‘Thank you,’ Charlie said, glancing from Holly, who was still quiet, to Rachel. ‘That means a lot to me from you, of all people. I hope I’ve done something that will, actually, help this time.’
‘Whatever happens over the next few weeks, you can be sure you’ve done your best,’ Rachel replied. She glanced at her watch. ‘I’d better get going, now you’ve come to walk my sister home – Mum and Dad picked up Harry from nursery so I could stay a bit longer and celebrate, but much as I’ve enjoyed it, I wouldn’t wish Harry’s bedtime routine on them.’
‘Is it complicated?’ Charlie asked, imagining a rigmarole of drugs and inhalers.
Rachel laughed. ‘The medications are the least of my worries! It’s wrestling him into bed that’s the problem – he gets a second wind at about six thirty.’
Charlie joined in the laughter. ‘I’ll have to come and help out sometime.’
‘I think he’d like that.’ Rachel turned to Holly, ‘I’m just going to pop to the loo. Can you keep an eye on my bag?’
‘Sure,’ Holly replied as Rachel wandered off.
Turning his attention back to Holly, Charlie’s heart flipped again. ‘Was it OK?’ he asked, feeling like a teenager seeking approval.
Holly shook her head. ‘No. It wasn’t.’
‘Wh-what?’ Charlie’s stomach turned. He thought he’d done the very best he could; seemingly, that wasn’t good enough. Then, as Holly smiled and put her arms around him, his knees went weak.
‘It was bloody brilliant,’ she whispered. ‘I know you couldn’t have done any better. And there’s no one else I’d rather have speaking for Harry.’
Charlie tightened his embrace and buried his head momentarily in Holly’s shoulder, feeling again like he was going to lose the battle against tears. ‘Thank you,’ he murmured gruffly. Holding Holly in his arms, knowing he had her seal of approval, was worth all the votes in his majority.
They were both distracted a moment later by the ping of the email notification on his phone.
‘Excuse me a minute?’ he said, releasing Holly. ‘I think I have to look at this.’
‘Probably the PM offering personal congratulations!’ Holly teased. ‘And a Cabinet job?’
Charlie shook his head. ‘That stuff tends to happen by letter, still, I’m afraid.’ He swiped his phone, and, a moment later, he felt his knees going weak again. ‘Oh my God…’ he murmured. Blinking, he reread the text on the screen.
‘What is it?’ Holly’s face, so recently euphoric, paled. ‘Is something wrong?’
‘No, not at all,’ Charlie said guardedly. He read it again. ‘In fact, I don’t think it could be better if we tried.’
‘Tell me!’ Holly grabbed his arm.
Charlie looked up from the screen, and he could feel the schoolboyish, beyond-happy grin that Holly had so often evoked in him spreading across his face.
‘Cora Mellish, the Secretary of State for Health and Social Care has just emailed me. As a result of the Adjournment Debate, and the passion of the campaigners on College Green over the past few weeks, the pharmaceutical company has been in contact with a better, more viable counter-offer for the pricing of the CF drugs.’ He paused, unsure if the middle of the pub was the best place to announce such news, since it wouldn’t be going public for a week or two.
‘And?’ Holly prompted him. ‘Is the offer an acceptable one?’