Holly smiled as she saw a snapshot of herself and Charlie, arms around each other, grinning from ear to ear. Rachel had taken it shortly before she and Harry had called it a night, in between the folk bands and Alan Somerville’s final, rather louder set. They both looked lit up from within, and Charlie looked more relaxed than she’d ever seen him. Then, peering at the background of the shot, she noticed with an even bigger smile that little Harry had photobombed, peering out from behind Charlie with a huge, cheeky grin on his face. Typical Harry, Holly thought. It was so easy to look at that photo and remember that Harry was still a normal three-year-old, away from all of the drugs and the uncertainties. He still loved the same things, had the same energies as any other child. And Holly loved him all the more fiercely for it. Despite everything, all of the challenges, it was moments like the one in the photo that made everything worth it.

Still grinning, Holly texted a quick reply, thanking Rachel for the photo but not wanting to reveal what else had happened after the music had stopped. There would be plenty of time for a catch up later in the week, when they were on the train to London to see Charlie in action at Prime Minister’s Questions. For the moment, the blissful night was her and Charlie’s alone.

30

After grabbing a quick shower and raiding her fridge for things to put in her picnic basket, Holly tied her hair back in a loose ponytail and headed down to the shop. The shop was normally closed on Sundays, but she’d made an exception for Willowfest and decided to keep it open until lunchtime. By then, most of the incomers to the festival would be making their way home.

As she unlocked the front door and wedged it open with the doorstop, she glanced out into the High Street and was pleased to see that quite a few people were out and about this Sunday morning. She waved at a couple of people she knew, and smiled to see the nun was in her usual position, bright and early, handing out sandwiches from her cool box to those who might have a real need of them.

It never ceased to amaze her how many people of different faiths and persuasions could live peacefully side by side in Willowbury. The place was a microcosm of harmony and contentment, and ever since she’d made it her home, she’d felt more and more at peace with herself. Perhaps there was something in the ley lines theory, after all, she thought.

Of course, taking Charlie to her bed last night may well have coloured her emotions in a rosier light this morning, too. They had been a revelation together, and mentally she high-fived her nineteen-year-old self for her good taste, if caution, all those years ago.