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Back A Place to Call Home Save as PDF
Chapters (62)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. 27
  30. 28
  31. 29
  32. 30
  33. 31
  34. 32
  35. 33
  36. 34
  37. 35
  38. 36
  39. 37
  40. 38
  41. 39
  42. 40
  43. 41
  44. 42
  45. 43
  46. 44
  47. 45
  48. 46
  49. 47
  50. 48
  51. 49
  52. 50
  53. 51
  54. 52
  55. 53
  56. 54
  57. Epilogue
  58. Author’s Note
  59. Acknowledgments
  60. More from Fay Keenan
  61. About the Author
  62. About Boldwood Books

‘Perhaps calling it a business is your first mistake,’ Stephen said between bites of toast. ‘I thought your lot were thinking about expanding your compassionate side after the last few years?’

Charlie shook his head. ‘Sorry, Steve, I’m not on the right form for an ideological discussion today. Got things to sort out in the real world.’

Stephen smiled. ‘Don’t tell me your leafy constituency’s working you too hard already? Isn’t it all stockbrokers one end, hippies the other?’

‘Not exactly,’ Charlie said. ‘But they keep me busy.’

‘Well, don’t let me keep you,’ Stephen said. ‘Drink later next week?’

‘I’d like that,’ Charlie replied. ‘Might need one to commiserate or celebrate after next Wednesday if I get picked for PMQs.’

‘Bold move,’ Stephen raised a speculative eyebrow. ‘Especially this early. Perhaps I’ll give the lottery a spin myself.’

‘No harm in trying,’ Charlie replied, heading to the counter to get some food of his own. ‘You’ve got as good a chance as any.’

‘Best of luck in the ballot,’ Stephen said. ‘I know I’m supposed to hope you fuck it up, but I hope, if you do get through, it goes well.’

‘Thanks,’ Charlie smiled wryly. ‘Fingers crossed.’

As he grabbed a drink and a bacon roll from the counter, he felt a sudden, unaccustomed flutter of nerves and the thought came into his head that, well-meaning colleagues or no, the only thing worse than not getting picked to speak was, most definitely, getting picked. Something told him that if he did end up winning in the shuffle, he wasn’t going to get a whole lot of sleep between now and then.

25

At around 2.31 on Thursday afternoon, the results of the PMQs shuffle were posted online and all respondents received an email letting them know whether or not they’d been successful. Charlie, who’d been compulsively checking his phone like a teenager expecting a saucy SnapChat message, felt his heart leap into his mouth as his phone pinged. This was it. This was the moment he’d been waiting for.

Swiping the screen, he scrolled down the message and felt his stomach disappear and his hands, suddenly sweaty, struggled to keep hold of the phone. As he digested the information on his screen, he let out a long breath. Reading it again, just to be sure he wasn’t making any mistakes, he closed his mail client and swiftly found Tom Fielding’s mobile number.