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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

Charlie cleared his throat. ‘Well, thank you for this,’ he tucked the doll into his pocket. ‘And it was nice to meet you. As a local business owner, I hope we’ll be able to discuss your concerns in more detail.’

‘Oh, you can save me the political spiel,’ Holly’s eyes sparkled. ‘I’m afraid you shouldn’t count on my vote. I’m rather more in the Green Party camp these days.’

Charlie grinned at her, oddly charmed by her forthrightness. ‘Then I hope between now and the next general election, I might be able to change your mind!’

Holly smiled back. ‘Been there, done that, did some student conferences!’ she countered. ‘I found I wasn’t too keen on the company, after a while.’

Charlie felt a sudden rush of recognition at her words. Now that she’d dropped her guard, and he’d spent a little time talking to her, he couldn’t help thinking that she looked like someone he’d known a long time ago… for one night only. But it couldn’t be her. The girl he knew had been sensibly dressed in an on-the-knee, neutral suit; party colours and party line, he thought wryly. Nineteen years old, with subtle lipstick and strawberry-blonde hair cut in a sensible bob. But then, he supposed, it was a decade and a half ago. Anything more adventurous would have been unexpected, especially in that context. He was sure, looking back on it, that his sartorial choices would have been just as suspect.

‘I can’t say I blame you,’ Charlie replied gamely, trying to shrug off the sense of déjà vu that Holly had suddenly evoked. ‘I intend to spend as much time in the constituency as I can. Westminster can be a bit of a bubble, if you know what I mean.’

‘I suppose that’s what you all say when you get appointed,’ Holly said, with a slight edge to her voice. ‘I bet even Hugo Fitzgerald was an idealist twenty-five years ago. Shame he never really got anything done around here!’

‘We’re not all lazy fat cats, you know,’ Charlie replied, a little more sharply than he’d intended. ‘Some of us go into politics for the right reasons.’

‘I’m sure,’ Holly replied. ‘But you’ll forgive me if I say time will tell on that.’

‘I hope I’ll be able to show you,’ Charlie said. There was a pause, which he took as his cue to leave. ‘Take care, Holly.’

‘You too,’ Holly said brightly, gesturing to the door. ‘I look forward to you proving me otherwise.’

Charlie, feeling more unsettled with the encounter than he had so far with any of the other shop owners, walked to the door. He suspected that he’d have a long way to go to demonstrate his worth as an MP to Holly; strangely, however, he found himself wanting to do so, if only to prove her wrong.

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