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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

It was nothing more than hearsay and tittle-tattle, but damaging enough. Furiously, Charlie wondered who the hell the source was. Who would be looking to ruin not just his reputation, but Holly’s as well? Immediately he discounted anyone who actually cared about them both, with this story painting Holly as a naive damsel in distress and himself as some self-serving predator who put pressure on women to get what he wanted. Neither could be further from the truth, and Holly would be furious if she knew she was being presented like that. A victim she most certainly was not. So, the question was, who had leaked this ridiculous story?

As he was thinking, his phone bleeped with a text. It was from Tom.

Done some digging overnight. Think I know who the source was. Get home as early as you can for crisis management planning tomorrow.

Charlie breathed out. Tom was handling it. All he had to do now was get through today and get home to Willowbury without incident. Suddenly, the day ahead seemed interminably long.

43

It had been a phenomenally shitty day, there was no getting away from it. As Charlie collapsed down into the seat on the train he’d managed to grab just outside Reading, having given up his seat for a heavily pregnant commuter at Paddington, he closed his eyes and tried to blot out the horror of the past few days. Being in London involved far more work than he could have imagined, taking him further away from constituency business than he’d ever wanted to be. Also, since the relentless hashtags on Twitter about his relationship with Holly, and the reasons she’d dumped him, had gone public, he’d had to run the gauntlet of alternate glances of sympathy, amusement and curiosity from his colleagues in the House wherever he went. Or at least, that’s how it felt.

Perhaps lack of sleep was making him paranoid. It was true that he hadn’t slept properly since his relationship with Holly had imploded so spectacularly, and the memory of her smile, her touch and her presence haunted his every waking moment. He’d failed utterly by choosing the wrong side of the argument; there was no way back. As another wave of despair washed over him, like the rain that was now lashing the windows of the carriage, he closed his eyes in utter defeat. Usually he’d try to keep his eyes open on the commute; it really wouldn’t do to be photographed snoring and dribbling and then have those photographs plastered all over social media, but tonight he was past caring. What could be worse than the coverage he’d already had, anyway?

‘All tickets from London Paddington and Reading, please!’ Just as Charlie was dropping off, Train Manager Lydia’s familiar cheery voice lurched him awake.