by Penny Parkes
Tilly nodded. ‘That’s what Alice said. In fact, Alice went one further.’ She paused, culottes fully concertinaed. ‘She thought that having a mentor, someone with more life experience in a family setting, maybe, might be a good way for me to learn. I mean, I know all the medicine inside out and back to front; it’s just the empathy that seems to elude me.’
Holly laughed; she didn’t mean to, but it was like talking to a young Julia Channing and she couldn’t help but draw comparisons with her ex-colleague. On the other hand, what if Julia had asked for help earlier in her career? ‘Oh, I’m so sorry, Tilly. It’s not that your situation is funny. It was just a déjà vu thing for a moment.’
Tilly shrugged. ‘I don’t really get it.’
Holly laid her hand on Tilly’s arm and smiled. ‘You’re not really supposed to. So, do you want me to talk to Taffy for you? See if he’s up for a little mentoring? Or maybe Dan, actually, as he has a little more time on his hands.’
Tilly said nothing, almost as though she were hopeful that Holly might cotton on by herself.
‘Oh,’ said Holly after a moment. ‘You weren’t thinking . . . ?’
Tilly nodded. ‘I would be so honoured if you would mentor me. All the patients talk about you so highly, and the team here too. The number of times they’ve pointed out how you would have done things over the last year . . . It’s like your way is the Gold Standard around here.’
‘Are you just blowing smoke up my arse, young lady?’ Holly said shortly.
‘No!’ Tilly smiled. ‘Well I suppose I could have just not mentioned it.’
‘That might have been better,’ Holly said firmly, determined not to be a pushover, but secretly delighted to hear that ‘her way’ was widely considered the right way. It boded particularly well for making changes, on the basis of ‘what was best for the patients’.
She frowned. ‘Well, Tilly, I’m really touched that you asked. But you do know I’m not really back yet – not to mention the four, well, five, children that I have at home . . .’
‘Don’t say no,’ said Tilly, suddenly animated. ‘What about a trade? I mean, with all that stuff on your plate, I get that mentoring me is not really viable. But, well, it has to be you.’
Holly shook her head. ‘Flattery is a risky ploy, you know. Give me reasons. I mean, be blunt. Tell me what you need to learn.’
Tilly started counting off reasons on her fingers, all well considered, eloquently phrased and alarmingly Holly-specific.
‘And really, it comes down to having some understanding of becoming a mother, raising a child and all the inherent concerns that are part of the package. We’re all really good doctors here, Holly, but you’re the only mum. We need to learn what makes the difference between a functional appointment and one where the patient goes away feeling fully heard and understood.’
‘Bugger,’ said Holly simply.
Tilly’s face broke into a smile. ‘So you’ll do it? You’ll be my mentor?’
‘You’ll need to walk the dog with me first thing every morning. Early. Sometimes the pig comes too. We can talk through your day ahead and evaluate the day before. It’s literally the only time I have free.’
‘Great,’ said Tilly, not batting an eyelid at the bizarre arrangement. ‘I’ve been meaning to get fit.’
‘And then we might double-up on some appointments, the trickier ones, so you can see how it evolves.’ Holly paused. ‘I think it’s really important to evaluate these as well. We both know the Hannah Porter situation was less than ideal.’ Tilly opened her mouth to speak, but Holly held up a hand. ‘No recriminations, Tilly, it’s just a learning curve. I had a similar situation with a patient when I first started out that didn’t end so well. It’s not something you ever forget.’
Tilly nodded earnestly and Holly decided just to jump in with both feet. ‘And in return, you are going to become my secret research assistant.’
‘Secret assistant, or secret research?’ clarified Tilly.
‘Both,’ said Holly firmly. ‘I’m going to need some data to make a few planning decisions and you’re going to help me collect it. Quietly.’ She appraised Tilly’s sparkling eyes, now filled with excitement and promise rather than nerves. ‘Can you do that?’
Tilly held out her hand. ‘Deal,’ she said, flopping back into the sofa cushions with a sigh of relief.
‘Am I really so terrifying?’ Holly asked, intrigued.
‘Not terrifying. I just knew that you had your hands full already, so it was a bit of a long shot, and I really wanted you to say yes. I don’t know how you do it.’
‘Neither do I,’ said Holly frankly. ‘I just have really good help and lovely friends, I think.’ She was only too aware that without Plum, Lizzie and Elsie, there was no way she could even entertain a return to work, let alone her madcap plotting.
‘And how is Plum settling in?’ asked Tilly. ‘She seems really fun, really focused.’
‘The kids adore her,’ said Holly simply, not wishing to talk out of school.
‘I thought I might invite her to the pub one night so she can meet a few people in town? When I first moved here, I only knew Alice, but that was hard enough.’
‘That’s a really lovely idea,’ said Holly, touched that Tilly also bought into the paying-it-forward philosophy that she herself espoused. ‘She only works three nights a week, so it shouldn’t be too hard to arrange.’
‘Brilliant,’ said Tilly simply, looking pleased, and Holly began to wonder whether the young girl beside her had ever really settled in Larkford, and whether they should, in fact, have had this conversation months ago. ‘Now, while you’re feeling benevolent, how are your gingerbread-making skills? I was hoping to make some with the kids for the Christening but we only seem to end up eating the dough.’ She paused. ‘It does not bode well for the Bake Sale either.’
Chapter 30
The weekend was upon them before they knew it and Holly watched Lulu standing in front of the mirror, twirling this way and that in the primrose tulle skirt. Taking her shopping had been a delight and an education.
‘Pretty,’ said Lulu, pointing at her own reflection.
‘Beautiful,’ agreed Holly.
Although Lulu remained a child of few words, she had a natural charm that seemed to be growing by the day as her confidence flourished. Today would certainly be a challenge for her, but Holly had no worries on that front; she had a few ideas up her sleeve to keep things running smoothly.
Ben and Tom charged into her bedroom, striking superhero poses back to back – Batman and Darth Vader unlikely allies for the day. Holly couldn’t help but smile at their determination. ‘And what happened to your smart trousers for the Christening?’ she asked.
‘Didn’t fit,’ said Ben, flashing a complicit glance at his twin.
‘We must have grown,’ added Tom, ever the more adept with a fib.
She knew full well that the proper thing to do was insist upon a change of attire; she knew also that some of their friends might struggle to accept how casual they were being about the girls’ Christening, but Holly saw no need to tie herself in knots pleasing other people.
It was quite remarkable how quickly her pendulum had swung from people-pleasing to authenticity over the last few months; perhaps parenting quite so many children might have that effect on anyone? Equally, in bringing Plum into her home and family, she felt a responsibility to lead from the front, to demonstrate with her actions the kind of family she was trying to build – one of inclusion, acceptance and peace. Picking her battles was both a necessary by-product of having too much on her plate, and a timely reminder that not everything actually mattered.
If her boys were happy and comfortable in their chosen outfits, wasn’t that more important than the aspirational family photo traditional on these occasions?
Lulu twirled once again in front of the mirror, her two superheroes flanking her in the reflection. Holly blinked, trying to capture the moment in her mind’s eye to revisit time and ti
me again – a perfect moment of family life, a mental photograph to be treasured.
‘How are we doing, Wifey?’ asked Taffy from the doorway, one of his soft, slow smiles lighting up his face at the scene.
‘All good,’ replied Holly, grateful that Taffy seemed to be fully present this morning, rather than the distracted plonker he had so often been of late. ‘Plum’s just giving the girls some food and then we’re good to go. Once we’ve wrangled them into their Christening gowns, anyway.’
Taffy watched the boys and Lulu twirling and laughing and a shadow of guilt passed over his face. ‘I know Mum’s been a bit OTT about those bloody gowns, but it’s important to her.’
Holly nodded. ‘I know. I do.’
She didn’t.
She couldn’t understand why Patty had this obsession with frilly, lacy Christening gowns for the girls. This wasn’t 1922. In a world of cotton and stretch fabric, it actually seemed a little cruel to bend and fold her babies into these starchy, itchy dresses.
Taffy perched on the edge of the bed beside her, apparently able to read her like a book. ‘You have to remember, Holls, that she missed out on all the girly stuff with us. I was the size of a decent turkey when I hatched and my brothers were bigger still. She didn’t get the chance to dress us up and fuss over us.’
Holly nodded. ‘But surely all her granddaughters can’t be subjected to this deluge of frilliness?’ She paused. ‘Don’t you think it’s funny that all of you have had daughters? It’s like the Universe is trying to balance out the Jones DNA or something.’
Taffy grinned. ‘Wouldn’t be at all surprised. Four Jones boys is enough for anyone.’ He picked up the Christening gowns from the bed beside them, wincing at the prickly lace that snagged on his fingers. He looked at the dresses, then up at her face and Holly could almost see the cogs turning in his mind, as he attempted to please both mother and wife.
She took his hand. ‘Look, if this is what you need, then this is what we’ll do. But to be clear, once they’re old enough and looking at the photos, I am laying full responsibility at your door.’ She grinned. ‘There’s no way they’re blaming me for those monstrosities.’
Taffy looked up, watching the boys at ease, having fun. ‘This isn’t a you-versus-Mum problem, though, is it? The priority is the girls.’ He smiled ruefully. ‘They have a right to enjoy their big day too.’
Internally, Holly cheered. If there was one thing she’d learned about married life with Taffy, it was that he liked to make his own decisions. She could lead him there, lay out the options, but ultimately, lurking in his subconscious, was a man who needed to feel that his say was important. He would never admit it – it certainly wasn’t a part of the enlightened man he strived to be, but nevertheless . . .
She reached under the bed and pulled out a box, leaves of tissue paper rustling. ‘How do you think your mum would feel about these, as a compromise?’
Taffy unfolded the two dresses, identically soft cotton lawn in the lightest shade of lemon, the tiny cream tights and bootees tumbling out onto the bed. Feminine, fresh, soft and comfortable. He glanced up and saw Lulu’s eyes widen in excitement. ‘Like me!’ she cried, holding out the layers of her primrose skirt.
Taffy’s eyes crinkled into the smile that Holly loved so much, as the penny dropped with what Holly was trying to achieve, with such a simple gesture, to show Lulu that she was part of something bigger than herself.
‘Just like you,’ he said, standing up and twirling her around in his arms, Holly’s heart lifting as Lulu’s shrieks of laughter grew with each spin.
*
There was no doubt in Holly’s mind that Larkford’s idea of ‘wetting the babies’ heads’ was a little extreme. The ceremony had been tasteful and considered – even if Dan had jokingly insisted on making the Reverend specifically invite him into the church, just in case he was harbouring the devil – and the godparents had, on the whole, behaved beautifully. Holly smiled to herself that it was the godparents’ behaviour rather than that of her children that had given her most cause for concern.
Seeing Alice’s face light up as Jamie made the ceremony by the skin of his teeth, courtesy of an airline delay, only served to confirm that they had made the right choice by keeping it local. The girls’ godparents really were their extended family, the people who would surround them as they grew up. A little incestuous, possibly. But equally reassuring.
And now, The Kingsley Arms was the focal point of the proceedings, with champagne flowing and canapés circulating and Holly having the secret suspicion that a more absorbent food choice might have been advisable.
Plum walked over to where Holly was quietly feeding the girls, Ben, Tom and Lulu looping around her legs with each step. ‘And so now we have time for the chicken. Hop up.’ She gestured for the three older children to sit around the table, Lizzie’s children running over to join them, with Coco and Eric in hot pursuit, nudging in between them for a prime ‘chicken’ location.
Obviously Holly wasn’t the only one hoping for more substantial sustenance, as Dan soon joined them, pinching chips from the children’s plates and making them squeal. He sat down beside Lulu and began telling a joke about bogeys that had all of the children in fits of giggles and Lulu’s eyes wide – no adult in her usual orbit being perhaps quite so irreverent and silly. The expression on Dan’s face as Lulu laughed told a thousand stories and Holly looked around automatically for Grace.
Several metres away, but watching their interaction with a heartfelt intensity, Grace was leaning against the bar, ostensibly listening to one of the Major’s amusing anecdotes. She noticed Holly’s attention and smiled, a wistful hint of emotion reflected in her eyes. If only, thought Holly . . . If only Grace and Dan were able to have the conversation they clearly needed to have to make sure their tracks ran together, parallel and true, rather than criss-crossing needlessly as they both struggled to agree on a destination.
Tilly sat down beside Holly, scooping Olivia onto her lap for a cuddle. Holly flexed her newly liberated arm and smiled her thanks; there was nothing like carting around growing twins to improve one’s upper body strength, but sometimes it was nice to have a little break. ‘You’re looking incredibly stylish today,’ Holly said, taking in Tilly’s unusual polish and panache. ‘You’re very sweet to get so dolled up for these little urchins. I’d like to say they appreciate it, but . . .’ She gestured helplessly towards the yoghurt stain on the skirt of her dress.
Tilly shrugged, apparently easy either way. ‘Alice helped me out. I just needed a little lift. You know what it’s like – it turns out there can be too much of a good thing when it comes to comfy clothes.’
Holly nodded. ‘It’s one of the perks of coming back to work actually. I have to actually get out of my dungarees. Far too comfy.’
‘Maybe we should all just wear scrubs and then we wouldn’t have to give it any thought,’ Tilly suggested. She dropped her voice. ‘I just wanted to say thank you actually. I hadn’t realised how much I’d been stressing about my role here until I talked to you. Thinking about leaving . . . I guess I just wasn’t sure how useful my particular skillset actually was around here.’ As she spoke, her eyes followed Plum as she darted around the table, helping the children cut up their food, refilling drinks and mopping up spills.
In the face of Plum’s remarkable efficiency, Holly was half tempted to say the same about herself. ‘Well, I for one would be really sad if you left. I think Larkford has a lot to offer, and I believe you do too.’ She paused. ‘I’ve been thinking a lot about our mentoring plan actually. Not to mention our little research project. How about you promise to stay for six months and then we’ll review?’
‘Only if you promise the same,’ Tilly said. ‘I heard a rumour you were thinking of private practice.’
Holly flushed a little. ‘You really shouldn’t believe everything that you hear; there’s always rumours in Larkford.’
‘Hmm,’ said Tilly, not so easily fobbed off. Her eyes were st
ill following Plum around the table, but the cogs in her mind were clearly whirring. ‘That’s one of the things I can’t seem to get used to, actually.’
Elsie appeared at Holly’s elbow, looking decidedly sheepish and uncharacteristically keeping a low profile. ‘Hello, my darlings, room for a small one?’ she asked, without waiting for a reply, as she squeezed into the gap between them on the upholstered bench.
Holly glanced over towards the door, uncertain what had prompted Elsie’s sudden desire to join the children’s table, when indisputably the better part of this party was happening at the bar. A geriatric cohort in red trousers or pearls hovered in the entrance, weighing up whether they would be welcome at what was clearly a private party. They had Sarandon Hall written all over them, and yet Elsie pressed herself against Holly’s shoulders in an unusual display of physical affection.
As Teddy Kingsley apologised and waved them on their way, Elsie visibly relaxed. ‘Do you know,’ said Holly, ‘that’s the third time you’ve been incredibly cagey around your cronies. I’m beginning to think there’s more to your departure from Sarandon Hall than you’ve been telling me. Like what kind of scandal got you booted out of a swanky retirement community with a cheque in your hand!’
Elsie sat up a little taller, her familiar flippancy already reasserting itself. ‘You know me, darling, I couldn’t keep a secret if my life depended on it.’ She stood up and returned to the bar with a relieved smile, only serving to convince Holly that her favourite pensioner did indeed have something up her sleeve. As if buying and renovating an entire townhouse right next door wasn’t enough . . .
As Plum took charge of Lottie, leaving Dan on duty as children’s entertainer extraordinaire, Holly stood up and stretched. It had been a huge mistake to squeeze into this dress, no matter how lovely it looked, or indeed how flattering the photos might be. She glanced down at the girls in their peachy-soft lawn dresses and considered when she might start taking her own advice. She surreptitiously tugged at the constrictive underwear making this dress even a possibility and swallowed hard, indigestion her almost constant companion today.
