‘Thanks very much,’ Kyle said. ‘It’s good to see you supporting a local event. Any comments on the progress of the planning for the motorway junction as yet?’

‘Not yet,’ Charlie replied. ‘But thanks for asking. We’ll keep you posted.’

‘And can I just have your name?’ Kyle turned his attention to Holly. ‘For the caption?’

‘Holly Renton, owner of ComIncense on the High Street,’ Holly supplied.

‘Much obliged.’ The reporter smiled at them both. ‘Thanks for your time.’

As Kyle headed off in search of more snapshots, Holly felt Charlie relax again.

‘You still don’t like being interviewed, do you?’ she said softly.

Charlie shook his head. ‘We had some media training as the new intake, but I’d far rather be the one asking the questions.’

‘That’s a first, surely, in your job,’ Holly teased. ‘A politician who doesn’t get off on the sound of his own voice?’

‘There you go again,’ Charlie said, but there was amusement rather than irritation in his voice. ‘Can we just forget what I do, and what you do, for one night, and focus on who you are, and who I am?’ He pulled her closer to him on the picnic rug. ‘Because I really want just to walk you home and spend the night with you.’

Holly’s pleasurable gasp was swallowed as Charlie’s mouth met hers. From a couple of metres away, neither registered the flash of the young reporter’s camera phone as he snapped a couple of cheeky shots to spice up his Twitter feed.

‘That sounds good to me,’ Holly murmured once their lips parted again. ‘Shall we go?’

‘Absolutely,’ Charlie murmured.

Swiftly, they packed up the picnic basket and then folded the blanket. Alan Somerville was just coming to the end of his last song, and as they wandered hand in hand back through the grounds of the Priory, an almost palpable tension seemed to radiate between them. At once Holly felt that the walk home was too long and not long enough. This was it, she could feel it. All of the yearning, all of the near misses, all of the barriers between them, were about to come tumbling down.