‘Tom? Charlie… Yes, fine, thanks. Anything I need to know about back home?… OK. Well, guess what?… Yup, that’s right.’ He took a deep breath, aware he was babbling, a deeply unattractive trait in a politician, even an excited one. ‘Sorry, yes, we’re on. Question six of fifteen… Honestly? Crapping myself… No, don’t worry, I’ll be calm enough by next Wednesday… No, I’m going to call her next.’ Charlie’s face flushed slightly at the mention of Holly’s name. ‘And I’ll give Rachel a ring, too – after all, Harry’s her son and she should know before Holly does, really.’

Heartbeat starting to return to normal, Charlie bade his agent goodbye and then rang Rachel, who was, predictably, very pleased. Then, feeling suddenly teenagerish and nervous again, he dialled Holly’s number.

‘Hey,’ he said, voice softening a little as he heard her voice on the other end of the line. ‘I’m hoping you’ll be pleased when I tell you what I’ve just heard.’ He smiled. ‘No, I’ve not made it to Prime Minister just yet!’ As he told Holly, his heart sped up and he had to take a deep breath to calm the sudden rush of adrenaline that surged through his veins. ‘Thanks,’ he breathed as she congratulated him. ‘I’ll fill you in on the details when I see you on Saturday morning. OK. Bye.’

Sitting back in his office chair, Charlie finally allowed himself a moment to digest the news. Next Wednesday he’d be speaking for the first time in the House of Commons, at Prime Minister’s Questions no less, and he’d no longer be anonymous. As far as putting his name and face out there went, he couldn’t be doing it any more publicly. He hoped he was up to the job.

Back in Willowbury, Holly put her own phone down on the shop counter and breathed out. For the first time since she’d met Charlie, since he’d come back into her life, she dared to hope that he might actually be one of the politicians who meant what he said. By raising the CF medication issue at PMQs, by setting it out in front of Parliament for the whole country to hear, he’d not only be raising the profile of the campaign but also setting out his own stall in support of it. That had to mean something, she was sure. It was more than Hugo Fitzgerald had done on the matter in his whole tenure.

‘Hey,’ Rachel said as she wandered through the shop door, Harry in tow. He’d been off nursery for a couple of days because he’d contracted a cold, but Holly knew how much Rachel wanted to keep things normal for Harry, so she was pleased to see them both. ‘Have you had a call from Charlie?’

‘Just now,’ Holly replied. ‘Great news, isn’t it?’