by Penny Parkes
He glanced over at the photos once more, Agatha’s features reflected over and over again in the faces of her children, and sighed. If his career was to be everything, then right now it wasn’t enough and changes needed to be made. Just as soon as he’d worked out what they were.
‘Oh, and you’ll be wanting to let me know about Mary?’ Agatha said suddenly, frowning as though trying to remember what else she had meant to discuss and jolting Dan from his reverie. ‘Will you be keeping her on, Connor darling? She’s a very good maid-cum-housekeeper and Benedict and I have always found her adequate.’
‘Damned by faint praise,’ muttered Lizzie under her breath, earning herself A Look.
‘But I thought your housekeeper introduced herself as Janet?’ Connor checked. ‘Do you have two?’
‘Ridiculous girl,’ said Agatha with feeling. ‘Undermining a perfectly satisfactory system. We’ve always called all our staff Mary, saves one having to remember new names, you know?’ She huffed. ‘I suppose you could go all modern and call her Janet, is it, if it suits you?’
Agatha yawned and closed her eyes, as though having lost interest in the conversation and Connor nodded to Dan and Lizzie. ‘Do you want to have a little look around?’ He got to his feet and a pack of dogs appeared from various corners of the kitchen at the faintest prospect of entertainment.
‘And you’re quite sure about the dogs, Aggie?’ Connor queried as they lined up like the von Trapp children at his heels.
‘Oh yes, especially if I’m making a break for it. They’ll be so much happier here with you,’ Aggie said sleepily, before nodding off in the grand carver armchair, her heavily coiffured hair tipping forward like a quiff.
Dan was perhaps the only one who could see the expression of forbearance on Connor’s face as he left the room, extolling the virtues of the sash windows and original mouldings.
‘So, exactly how many dogs come with the house?’ Dan whispered to him, knowing only too well how Noodle and Doodle had tweaked the pecking order in his own home.
‘Seven,’ said Connor quietly, his answer almost eclipsed by Lizzie’s snort of amusement, as they made their way into the main entrance hall.
‘One setter, one spaniel, a beagle and four little fluff balls,’ said Connor in resignation that his beautiful new home apparently came complete with a built-in menagerie.
‘Shih-poo,’ offered Lizzie, glancing down at the smallest one, jumping up at her legs.
‘Bless you,’ said Connor with a grin, as he bent down to pick up said fur ball and tuck it into his waistcoat. ‘The other three are related, but I’m not sure how.’
‘You know,’ said Dan with a smile, as Connor continued to play it cool, even as he affectionately stroked the little dog under the chin. ‘I think you’re nearly ready for your red trousers now.’
‘Ooh,’ said Lizzie. ‘I like it. Don’t worry, Conn, we’ll get you kitted out in no time.’
‘Anything else I need to know?’ Connor asked in concern, as the Irish setter leaned herself against his thigh and refused to budge. ‘There seem to be even more strings attached to this deal every day and I haven’t even moved in yet. Your Holly might have a lot to answer for, you know? Although I just might forgive her if she gets me some decent tickets to the rugby.’
‘The rugby? Holly?’ Dan queried. ‘What did I miss?’
‘Oh, it’s nothing,’ Lizzie reassured him, looking increasingly tired by this early evening decadence. ‘Just a funny job offer that Holly got the other day. Can you believe the Rugby Club in Bath want her on staff? A private GP, no less, and access to all those lovely firm thighs – can you imagine?’
‘Holly?’ double-checked Dan in disbelief.
‘I know, right?’ agreed Connor. ‘Your mate’s just great, Witchy, but she can’t tell one end of a rugby pitch from another.’
Lizzie snorted indelicately. ‘I bet she can tell one end of a rugby player from the other, though.’
Connor gave a filthy laugh but Dan couldn’t even muster a smile. Dear God, if Holly was ready to come back to work, then why the hell wasn’t she at The Practice and sharing the load? He knew, deep down, that his disproportionate anger had nothing to do with Holly and everything to do with her apparently casual dismissal of the kind of job he had often dreamed of, always assuming he could ignore his pesky moral compass long enough to actually seek out some job satisfaction for himself.
Well, that and his quiet suspicion that he would trade places with Holly in a heartbeat, not truly understanding why she felt the need to return to work so soon when she had those glorious babies at home.
Obviously, he would never dream of saying that aloud – far too controversial – but he couldn’t help but wonder whether paternity leave would be everything he hoped for. Or indeed, whether he would ever have the chance to find out.
‘And she’s considering it?’ Dan asked quietly. ‘Going into private practice, I mean?’
Lizzie shook her head. ‘You know Holly, she’s all about the right thing to do. She won’t even think twice about what a cushy number this might turn out to be. She’ll carry on pining for her patients until you guys let her back.’
‘Let her—?’ Dan began, confused.
‘Do you know,’ interrupted Lizzie suddenly, clapping her hand over her mouth. ‘I’m not sure I should have drunk that Martini . . .’
Dan’s thoughts were rudely shoved to the back burner, as he helped his queasy cousin to a chair and fetched her iced water, before ruinous thoughts of babies and rugby crowded his thoughts, his ambitions seemingly thwarted on every front by the women in his life.
Chapter 13
Jamie’s smiling face filled the screen of her laptop and, not for the first time, Alice found herself wondering if they’d made a terrible mistake. The way Coco’s ears had perked up at the sound of his voice over the airwaves suggested she wasn’t alone in that opinion.
‘I’ll be back in a few weeks for a visit,’ Jamie said, his ability to read her like a book seemingly unfettered by the distance between them. ‘We can buy all the newspapers and read them in bed, then walk to the top of Larkford Rise? I’ll even treat you to a pub lunch at The Kingsley Arms so you can prove to all the newbies that your boyfriend isn’t imaginary. How’s that for a plan?’
Alice couldn’t help but smile. Jamie Yardley was the human equivalent of a bouncing Labrador – and God knows, his amiability had stood him in good stead over the last few months – saving him from what Alice’s mother annoyingly, but accurately, called The Full Alice whenever she got cross about this stupid arrangement. This stupid, voluntary, arrangement, she reminded herself.
‘It sounds really good, especially if, on Sunday afternoon, well . . .’ She stumbled and Jamie grinned.
‘My thoughts exactly. Can’t fly back to Ireland without a lovely long, er, siesta under my belt.’
Alice shook her head. ‘Not that. I mean, well, yes that – obviously . . . But I was thinking more along the lines of just, well, not going back.’
Jamie sighed and his good-natured frustration with his girlfriend was clear on his face. ‘Oh, Al, we’ve been over this. I can’t just leave them in the lurch. In the same way that I couldn’t say no to covering this territory when they asked me. It’s a short-term thing and they were in a terrible bind. I’ll be back before you know it. Give it a few months and you’ll be cursing me for snoring, and eating all the best cheese, and leaving my trainers everywhere stinking up the place.’
Alice laughed despite herself. ‘Okay. It’s a deal. But it’s really Coco’s poor nose I’m thinking of, when I complain about your trainers.’
‘Of course,’ said Jamie easily. ‘I miss you too, you do know that, right?’ he said quietly after a moment. ‘And there is nowhere I would rather be than right there with you.’
Alice opened her mouth, about to say, ‘Well, come on then,’ but she stopped herself. Nagging him home wasn’t an option. He was there because he was a good person, doing the right thing, and
that was a part of him she didn’t want to change. She just wished that ‘doing the right thing’ could be done without the use of a passport.
‘I know,’ she said simply. ‘Now do your impression of old Padraig O’Neill again before you go. I can’t believe he got you drunk on a home visit!’
‘Ah go-orn go-orn, it is but a little tay . . .’ obliged Jamie in the most ham Irish accent he could muster. Alice knew he was one of Jamie’s favourite clients, an ageing farmer determined not to give up his independence as yet. And without Minty, his diabetes assistance dog, there was no way he’d be able to see out his seventh decade in the farmhouse where he was born. She loved hearing Jamie’s tales of Padraig and his incorrigible attempts to wind up the Limey and it was only too clear to Alice, listening to the commitment in Jamie’s voice talking about Minty, that her sacrifice here was small, not to mention temporary, but the difference he was making over there was lasting.
*
Wandering through the Market Place later, Coco at her heels, further dented Alice’s mood. Watching all the other families and couples flitting from stall to stall, the first few Christmas vendors boldly staking their claim on all things sparkly, made it so much harder to be endlessly unwavering in her support. The very thought of Christmas was yet another topic that Alice had been choosing to avoid. She sighed. It may have been the phone call from Jamie, or possibly the slightly passive-aggressive care package that had arrived from her mother. Of course, it was thoughtful of her mum to send down her favourite Tracy Chapman record on vinyl, ‘in case she was missing it’, but they both knew that her beloved record player was still up in Orkney, in the unchanged room that awaited her return. It was the latest in a series of gentle nudges, followed up by less than gentle phone calls – conversations best avoided if feeling fragile about Jamie’s absence. As far as Alice’s mother could see it, there was no future in the relationship if he was prepared to accept a job overseas, and her words had the ability to stick in Alice’s mind like bindweed and bring torment in the wee small hours.
‘You look shit,’ said Tilly cheerfully, bounding over and throwing her arms around Alice’s shoulders from beside her.
‘Aw, you flatterer, you,’ said Alice with a smile, thanking God, and Holly and her prodigious fertility, that Tilly had come back into her life, just as Jamie had left. ‘Always knowing just the right thing to say.’
‘Well, we can’t have you pining for that lanky pooch-hustler all the time, can we? Plus, you know, it’s Saturday, so I’m guessing the Mad Haggis has been in touch to spread doooom-and-gloooom in your heart?’ Tilly’s fake Scottish accent was nearly as bad as Jamie’s Irish one, and for a moment, Alice wondered why they bothered, before realising they had a common goal – to cheer her up and make her smile.
‘Am I that predictable?’ Alice asked wryly.
‘Nope. But your mother is,’ laughed Tilly. She froze, turning quickly to face the other way and dragging Alice with her. ‘Quick. Pretend you’re talking to me!’
‘I am talking to you,’ said Alice slowly, as though addressing a rather dim-witted child.
‘No, I mean, properly – look all intense, or cry or something,’ Tilly whispered forcefully.
Truth be told, thought Alice, neither of those were too much of a reach from her current emotional state, but she was still none the wiser until . . .
‘Hi, Tilly,’ said lovely Matthew Giles shyly, his neck mottled pink with the gumption it must have taken him to walk over and interrupt them, pushing his delightful mother Molly in her wheelchair.
‘Hi,’ managed Tilly begrudgingly, avoiding eye-contact like a truculent teenager.
Oh dear God, thought Alice, if this was how Tilly behaved with all her romantic conquests in Larkford, no wonder there were ripples of ill-feeling and concern.
‘Well, aren’t you two a picture! Girls’ day out, is it?’ said Molly brightly, her words slurring slightly but the light still very much in her eyes. Such a cruel condition – young-onset Parkinson’s – robbing her of so much time and independence. Thank goodness for her gorgeous and capable son. He really was an inspiration to all of them – and he certainly didn’t deserve the Campbell Cold-shoulder.
‘Well, we thought we’d make the most of this glorious sunshine, didn’t we, Tilly?’ Alice said, when Tilly remained resolutely silent. ‘Poor Tilly is keeping me company, having to listen to me moan on about missing Jamie. I think I may be starting to sound like a broken record.’
Molly reached out and took her hand, the tremor making it hard to maintain her grasp, but the tentative pressure nevertheless making it clear she felt for Alice; Molly was nothing if not empathetic of her fellow Larkford souls, even as her own life quietly disintegrated day by day. ‘He’s a good lad, your Jamie. Stay the course, Dr Walker. The good ones are always worth waiting for.’
It was exactly what Alice needed to hear, but possibly the worst thing she could have said to encourage her son, his hopeful face still firmly turned towards Tilly like a sunflower seeking out the sun.
‘How’s the fund-raising going, Matthew?’ Alice asked, her heart going out to him, his unrequited love like a banner of vulnerability. ‘Did I hear you have big plans afoot?’
He turned to her gratefully, still shooting hurt glances in Tilly’s direction every few moments. ‘It’s going really well, actually. I can’t believe nobody thought of it before, but I’m getting such a positive response from local businesses – although they’re yet to put their money where their mouth is. Having a drop-in centre for Young Carers is going to make such a world of difference locally – ultimately I’d love it if we could offer more than a little distraction and support to the kids. Maybe some respite care too? But that’s all a long way in the future.’
‘Something fabulous to aim for though, Matthew,’ Alice agreed.
He nodded. ‘And I had no idea how much of an overlap there was between our Young Carers and the Invisible Disabilities Support Group that Dr Graham set up at The Practice. I spoke to the counsellor the other day and we reckon it’s even harder for the kids who are de facto carers for parents with the less obvious conditions, you know? To the outside world, everything looks normal, doesn’t it? So there’s less support, less understanding. I haven’t quite worked out the logistics yet, but there’s the possibility of moving the support group to the drop-in centre once it’s up and running.’
All the shyness and awkward body language had slowly melted away, as he spoke with such conviction and consideration. He literally transformed in front of Alice’s eyes and she got a small taste of what might have attracted Tilly in the first place. And of course, because it was Tilly, the moment Matthew’s attention had shifted and his passion redirected, her interest was piqued once more, her head slowly meerkat-ing from the chunky scarf swathed around her neck.
‘Don’t you dare,’ whispered Alice urgently, predicting exactly where Tilly’s thoughts were heading, as Matthew bent down to tuck the blanket around his mum’s legs more firmly – it may be sunny, but a chill breeze whistled down the valley occasionally just to keep you on your toes.
Tilly shot her a filthy look, which thankfully Matthew missed.
‘You girls have a lovely day. My handsome son is taking me for lunch. Aren’t I lucky?’ Molly said, effectively bringing the conversation to a close and the two women watched them walk away without a word.
‘She is, you know, in so many ways,’ Tilly said after a moment. ‘I can’t think of many young men who would be willing to turn their lives upside down for their parents.’
They looked at each other, knowing only too well that neither of them – ironically, given their ‘caring profession’ – would be quite so quick to do so. But then, thought Alice, perhaps that had more to do with the relationships they had with their respective parents.
‘He loves her,’ Alice said simply, with a wistful sigh.
Tilly frowned. ‘I wonder what it’s like, to have that kind of unconditional love?’
The
market swayed and billowed around them, as Alice and Tilly stood side by side, lost in thought. Alice couldn’t say for certain where Tilly’s head was taking her, but she knew clearly enough where her own thoughts led without hesitation. She already had two such loves in her life, she realised. And it was a timely reminder that giving Jamie the freedom to pursue his altruistic leanings was part and parcel of loving him. Coco, on the other hand, was always there, always loving, unconditionally by her side. She sniffed, hoping that Tilly hadn’t noticed this over-welling of emotion.
‘You should get a dog,’ Alice blurted. ‘I mean, if you’re serious about staying in Larkford?’
Tilly looked around her, seeming to notice for the first time that almost every couple, every family, came complete with a canine companion. The Reverend Taylor was even bartering with The Cheese Man for tasty morsels to tempt Dibley’s appetite; the Major and Marion sharing their morning pastries with Grover as though he were their baby, which in a way, to them, he probably was. ‘Maybe. But then what could I offer a dog? I work long hours and I’m hardly reliable . . .’
‘Making good progress with those commitment issues, I see?’ teased Alice gently.
Tilly stuck her tongue out. ‘Don’t judge, Walker. You know I’m a serious head-case when it comes to relationships. Always have been.’
‘Not always,’ Alice reminded her gently, aware that she was walking on eggshells, aware that they never really talked about that time. That time, before Tilly’s understanding of intimacy and trust had been so rudely violated. It seemed cruel in the extreme that the entitlement and arrogance of one cocky student could still be causing ripples in her friend’s love life all these years later, but . . .
‘Don’t go there, Alice. Not today.’ Tilly’s tone was firm and brooked no argument.
