Sitting down at his desk to read, he became engrossed in the file, and was only distracted by his email notification ping some time later. Helen had collected as much information as she could, including links to the most relevant debates in Parliament. Hansard, which was the official record of debates of the UK Parliament, had an open-access digital archive stretching back a hundred years, making searching it for incidences where the issue had been raised in the House an easy matter. Charlie was shocked to see that the funding of the new drug had been raised numerous times over the years. Cystic fibrosis was a condition that affected seventy thousand patients worldwide, ten thousand in the United Kingdom alone, and one which seemed in desperate need of more publicity, understanding and, most of all, effective treatment. Given the inevitable stints in hospital that patients had to endure, anything that prevented costs escalating in that way had to be a bonus, surely?

A number of MPs had taken up the cause, according to the records of debate in Hansard, but Rachel was right, it had stalled over the past year or so. Could he – should he – take it on? It was at times like these he wished he’d been in the House a little longer. While he was a nodding acquaintance to some of the more local MPs, the job was often an isolating one, and he hadn’t yet formed an effective network in London. The party helped, of course, but even within that, there were always shifting loyalties and alliances. Someone who supported you one week could change their mind the next. It was like being in a huge class, back at school, at times, and Charlie was acutely aware that as a rookie MP, in his first term of office, he was vulnerable, even with a so-called safe majority in his constituency.

But wasn’t it his duty to put his constituents first? Surely, that should override all other concerns. And Rachel was a voter, after all. Jotting down a couple of things to check out, he then glanced at his iCal diary and, with a jolt of pleasure, realised he had a free couple of hours. He should be cracking on with some more paperwork, but since it was such a glorious day, he decided to get out and stretch his legs. He knew that free time was precious, as constituency work and work in the House could get extremely intense, especially in the run-up to the summer recess. Time where he could just get out and soak up the atmosphere of his new home would be scarce, so he was determined to make the most of his free time.

As he wandered out of his office, he called to Helen. ‘I’m off for an early lunch. I’ll be back in a bit.’