BooksBarbecue
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

Miles held up a hand. ‘I’m joking, of course. Me, personally, I’m glad you’ve taken over, but there are some round here who’ll be harder to please.’

‘I think I’ve already encountered one of them,’ Charlie said, glancing unthinkingly back towards ComIncense.

‘Oh, don’t you worry about her,’ Miles said. ‘She and her sister are always on their high horse about something. Doesn’t know how good she’s got it, living here, with that shop smack in the middle of the High Street.’

Charlie, kicking himself mentally for speaking carelessly to Miles, of all people, smiled. ‘Oh, it was nothing like that, honestly. Anyway, I’d best get on. It was nice to see you, Miles.’

‘Nice to see you too, m’lord,’ Miles winked again and strode off back to the bakery, which was at the bottom of the High Street. The Fairbrothers had been the town bakers for five generations, and Charlie already knew that Miles held sway on the town council and the Chamber of Commerce. He was also a significant donor to Charlie’s local party funds. Much as he’d instinctively disliked the man, he was one that he definitely had to keep on side if he was to get anywhere politically.

Looking at his watch, Charlie cursed as he realised he was going to be late for the first of several appointments at his constituency office. He was due to start at twelve, and he’d not read through the briefing notes his ever-efficient agent had emailed him the night before. Pulling out his phone, he scrolled through his appointments list and, with a stab of dismay, concluded he was going to be holed up in the office until well after six o’clock that evening. The life of a rural MP, he thought, was not exactly a sleepy one. Resolving to grab a quick takeaway coffee from the Costa machine at the newsagents, he hurried towards his office.

As he let himself back in through the door, he couldn’t help reflecting once again on his meeting with Holly Renton in her shop. Something was niggling at him; something about her he just couldn’t place. He couldn’t help thinking he’d met her somewhere before.

5