Charlie’s heart thumped as a microphone was thrust into his face by a blonde reporter, Ruth Middleton, for one of the morning television current affairs shows. When he’d started this job, he’d received some training about what to do when asked a question on the hop like this, but he’d been so preoccupied with the sight of the demonstration and thoughts of Holly that all of that useful advice had fled from his brain.

‘Mr Thorpe, as the recent publicity for this cause shows, you and your constituents have a lot to gain if an agreement is reached. Do you have any comment on that?’

Charlie opened his mouth, but not for the first time in front of a microphone, didn’t have the first clue how to respond. The chanting behind him grew in intensity, with one voice standing out above all others; a voice that split Charlie’s heart the second he recognised it.

‘I wouldn’t bother asking him,’ the voice taunted. ‘He’s not got any answers.’

Charlie glanced briefly away from the reporter’s questioning gaze and his eyes locked with the speaker’s. Eyes flashing with challenge, hair bedecked with yellow ribbons, Holly looked as formidable an opponent as he’d ever encountered across the benches inside the House. How awful it was to be on the opposite side to her. It felt wrong, all wrong.

The reporter caught his glance and turned towards Holly, motioning for the camera operator to do the same. ‘Am I right in thinking that this is one of your constituents, Mr Thorpe?’

Charlie tore his gaze back to the reporter, uncomfortably aware that he still didn’t quite know what he was going to say. ‘That’s correct, Ruth, yes. But at this present time I have no comment on the progress of the discussions. Regrettably, I have to step away from the issue.’ Cursing how pathetically formal he sounded, reminding him of the very first on-camera interview he’d ever given, he also knew that his words would provoke nothing but derision from the assembled campaigners. He was just another politician going back on his word; saying one thing one day and then taking it back another.

‘So, you are unable to give your support for an issue that you asked a question about recently at Prime Minister’s Question Time?’

‘I have no further comment,’ Charlie said hopelessly, feeling his stomach sink at how incredibly lame that response sounded.

He glanced over the reporter’s shoulder to see Holly had stopped chanting and had her gaze fixed firmly upon him. His face felt hot as he remembered the way they’d parted, back in Willowbury, and he found that he couldn’t focus on what the reporter was now asking him.