As she left Rachel’s place and got in the car to head home, Holly mused on what she and Rachel had discussed. It was still early days with Charlie; should she be the one to broach the subject of Harry’s medication needs with him, or should she leave it to Rachel? She was Harry’s aunt, after all. She was too fuzzy-headed with the stress of tonight, and the earlier excitement of kissing Charlie, to think straight. He’d said he was busy all weekend, and perhaps that was a good thing. They both needed some space to breathe.

19

Charlie wasn’t joking when he said he had a busy weekend ahead. As he’d feared, Westminster business was taking up more time than he’d anticipated and so he found himself catching up with constituency work in the evenings and at weekends. He also had the Summer Fayre to open in one of the smaller villages on his patch on Saturday afternoon, a Youth Speaks debating competition to judge on the Saturday evening and then, on Sunday, a few hours’ work on all of the papers he’d brought back with him. The life of an MP was certainly a busy one, but this was why he’d got into politics in the first place: to feel as though he was making a difference. And he’d got fed up of shouting at the TV and radio about it – he wanted to be part of the change.

Ruefully, he looked at his phone on Saturday morning. He so desperately wanted to reconnect with Holly, but he just wasn’t going to get the time. A few text messages would have to do until he came back again on Friday. Or would it?

Glancing at his iCal diary, which synched with the MacBook, his phone and his e-reader, he saw he had an evening out in Stavenham, the larger town in his constituency, on Wednesday night, so he’d have to make a midweek trip back to attend.