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Back A Place to Call Home
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

As the train finally drew into Paddington, Charlie grabbed his wheeled suitcase from the luggage rack and headed down to the Tube station. At peak rush hour, the Tube was crammed, but at least it meant he didn’t even have enough space to get his phone out. As the train started to clear out when it drew closer to the Westminster stop, he risked a look at it once more. Swiping through to the app and glancing at the trending topics, his knees started to tremble. With a no less shaky finger, he tapped the first of two hashtags that had inevitably drawn his attention. Collapsing back into the newly vacated seat behind him, he feverishly read the first few tweets.

How had he not known about this? Why had his constituency office not warned him? Two hashtags in combination were proving surprisingly popular, and both of them made Charlie’s heart thud in his chest. #CFDrugsNow was there, but then it usually was, since the CF campaigners had mobilised. But the one that took his breath away was #GreenGoddess.

‘No…’ Charlie whispered, as image after image of Holly, decked out in the yellow ribbons that represented the cause, scrolled past on the feed for the hashtag. He was well aware of the #GreenGoddess hashtag, of course, but it was the fact that Holly was here in Westminster that shook him. In his head, he’d wanted to keep her in her Willowbury box, so that when he was in London, he didn’t have to face the impact of his own decisions, politically and personally.

The two-day demo was in its second day today and, it seemed, they’d started early. How the hell was he going to slip past that unobserved?

The Tube train moved relentlessly towards Westminster, and Charlie felt a rising nausea, not at all caused by the permanent, sooty heat of the Underground. Taking several deep breaths to try to calm the dread that was rising in his mind and in his stomach, he put his phone away, unable to face more evidence of Holly’s total commitment to her cause, and his contrasting lack of dedication to it. When he could trust his knees to hold him up, he stood and waited for the train to reach its destination.