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

Grinning, she took a quick selfie by the Hyde Park Bandstand and sent it off to him.

On my way. Just imagine you’re playing from here, and not the Chamber! #Breakaleg

She kept smiling as his reply came back almost instantly.

So glad you’ll be here to witness my triumph/humiliation. See you after xx

Sending him a blowing kisses emoji, Holly checked her watch and upped her pace. If she hurried, she might have time to grab a snack before going into the House of Commons. Breakfast at home seemed an awfully long time ago, and she didn’t want her tummy rumbling during Charlie’s big moment. She was astonished about how nervous she felt for him.

35

Charlie paced the hallway outside the chamber and wondered if he had time to dash to the loo for another pee before he had to go in and sit down. Now, more than ever, he wondered at the Prime Minister’s ability to do this week after week, standing up among the rowdy, opinionated masses of MPs from both sides and being accountable for policy decisions, good and bad.

He checked his phone once more, just to make sure he’d switched it to silent. As he did, he saw another message from Holly. Swiping the screen, he saw that she’d taken a selfie next to the glass wall that separated the Public Gallery from the Commons Chamber, and written ‘Good Luck!’ with a hand-drawn heart next to it. His actual heart flipped. He suddenly didn’t know if it had been the right thing to invite her down to see him do this, after all. What if he really did cock it up? She’d be disappointed, and he’d be embarrassed. Then, he chided himself. There was no point in thinking like that; he had to visualise success. He smiled a bit at that – his father, a man of few words, most of them gruff, would put it another way – Stand up straight and get on with it. He wondered if his dad was watching or listening today; John Thorpe wasn’t a huge fan of what he called ‘the Lions’ Den of PMQs’, but Charlie hoped, perhaps, he’d make an exception today, since his son was going to speak.

It was time. He knew that, even though he looked at his watch just to confirm. He drew a deep breath and walked into the chamber, glancing up at the Public Gallery as he did so, and feeling his heart flip as he saw a redheaded figure sitting nearest the glass wall. He couldn’t see her expression, but he smiled in her general direction, hoping she’d be watching.

‘Order, order!’ The Speaker’s strident voice rang out across the chamber, and those present took their seats.