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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

‘They very rarely do when they’re making stuff up,’ Charlie muttered.

‘Your Holly doesn’t seem the sort to be taken in by anyone, either,’ Lydia continued. ‘Knows her own mind, from what else I’ve seen across the media. Wouldn’t want to be seen as some helpless girl.’

‘She’s not my Holly any more, if she ever was, but she definitely wouldn’t want to be seen as that,’ Charlie agreed. ‘But I still don’t know who stuck the boot in.’

‘Oh, people will do anything to get what they want,’ Lydia replied. ‘I’m sure office politics are even worse, working where you do. Made any enemies lately?’

‘You’re asking a politician?’ Charlie was surprised to hear his own laughter, albeit rather more brittle than it would usually be. ‘I’ll have to make a list.’

‘But, anyway, what do I know?’ Lydia smiled knowingly and looked down at her ticket machine. ‘Now, onto this missing ticket. I know you’re a regular on this service, and I’ve seen your season ticket a fair few times, so let’s say no more about it. Show me your ticket next time. I’m sure you won’t forget it again!’

Charlie swallowed hard and suddenly found he had immense trouble speaking. He looked down at his shoes, frightened to look up at her in case he disgraced himself and the stiff upper lip his father was so fond of failed him. Dignity at all times, Charlie. ‘Thank you,’ he said quietly. ‘I appreciate it.’

‘No problem,’ Lydia replied. Glancing around again, to make sure there was nothing more urgent requiring her attention, she put a hand briefly on Charlie’s shoulder. ‘You can only do what you can do. Remember that, Charlie Thorpe.’

As she moved down the carriage to check the remaining tickets, Charlie felt his barely-there composure start to crumble. He hadn’t realised how close to the edge he was until one person’s kindness sent him hurtling over it. As he stared fixedly down at his shoes, hot, heavy tears, the first he’d shed in a long time, dripped warmly onto his clenched hands.

44

By the time he’d got on the connection to Willowbury, Charlie was feeling less distraught and more up to facing the hell of the news story. With Tom on the case, he was sure everything would be sorted out and the facts righted in no time. He was almost feeling optimistic by the time he’d agreed to meet Tom at the constituency office. Taking a bottle of whisky along might be a bit premature, but he had faith it would all turn out all right, once Tom told him who he suspected the source was.

One look at Tom’s face as he pushed open the front door to the office was enough to make all hope flee, however. Charlie had never seen the man so angry.