Snowed in at the Practice

by Penny Parkes

  And that’s when she realised.

  In fact, there was a small part of her that wanted to rush across the bar and share her light-bulb moment with her patient right there and then. The very cause of Pru Hartley’s ongoing battle with chronic acid reflux had been right in front of her eyes – well, under Pru’s clothes to be more precise. Years of failed dieting had meant that Pru’s Pantz had become an everyday staple in her wardrobe, as she refused to give in gracefully and accept the role of portly baker. If only they’d looked beyond the medical and into the sartorial, they might have found a solution that didn’t involve endless prescriptions and restrictive diets.

  Tilly was right, of course, a stylish ensemble could give you a lift, but there was a darker side to fashion that was best avoided at all costs. To Holly’s mind, it was yet another endorsement of her lifestyle-litmus that if she couldn’t run after a toddler, lift a baby, or enjoy a meal, then any trend was best ignored.

  Holly grinned, enjoying that feeling of solving a puzzle, of helping a patient and, let’s face it, of knowing that even allowing for her maternity leave, she was still a community GP at heart – her patients never far from her thoughts. She wondered how many private doctors could honestly say the same.

  Chapter 31

  Grace tentatively sipped her ginger and rhubarb Bellini, Teddy Kingsley’s cocktails being notorious for unseating the uninitiated. As the hit of alcohol made her blink, the fresh, sweet and sour taste of the local rhubarb liqueur made her smile and she nodded her approval to Teddy, who was hovering behind the bar awaiting her verdict. It was to be his gift to Holly and Taffy – the perfect cocktail with which to wet the babies’ heads.

  ‘Just gorgeous,’ she said, ‘but maybe limit them to one per person or you’ll have Pru Hartley attempting to Riverdance again, and nobody wants that, what with her dicky hip.’

  Spoken partly in jest, Grace knew only too well that a little alcoholic lubrication went a long way in Larkford – their over-familiarity with one another’s lives left little by way of reserves, and anything that tipped the scales to further loosen tongues and inhibitions was, in general, to be avoided.

  For the sake of the peace.

  For the sake of continued friendships, tolerances and neighbourly relations.

  After all, you didn’t necessarily have to love thy neighbour, but outright acrimony in a community this small tended to burn hot and fast. It was, in short, unsustainable.

  She only had to glance at Cassie Holland to illustrate her point: the way she aggressively avoided the new headmaster, hectored every parent in town with her green agenda and, of late, went out of her way to gird Connor Danes’s festival plans with ill feeling and acrimony.

  Sadly, on this last, she was not alone. Everywhere Grace turned this past week, there had been huddles of discussion and distrust about Connor’s festival. Grace sighed and slipped another canapé down to Noodle and Doodle at her feet, relieved that Holly’s definition of friends-and-family at this event extended to the four-legged variety as well.

  Even the thought of Connor pulled her up short. She squinted through the groups of friends chatting, laughing, celebrating and realised with a dull thud that Connor was not among them. Connor, whose moods of late had been mercurial at best. Connor, who had phoned only yesterday to try and get an appointment with Alice, only to mutter ‘not to worry’ despondently on hearing she had no availability, and turning down the offer of an appointment with Taffy ‘because he wouldn’t understand’ before abruptly hanging up.

  Grace felt the Bellini churn in her stomach, an acidic bile suddenly choking her, as a cold wave of prescience swept over her. Could it be, had she actually turned away a patient in urgent need? Because from Grace’s perspective, mental health issues like depression were often more worrying than the physical. But then Connor wasn’t depressed, was he? All that energy being funnelled into his new ventures? He surely wouldn’t be able to pull all that together, if he was struggling to get out of bed in the morning.

  She crossed the room in four strides, catching hold of Kitty Clarke’s arm, tugging her away from her bovine conversation with Rupert and Mims. The vets of Larkford, it seemed, were equally as committed to their patients as the GPs, even on high days and holidays.

  ‘Have you seen Connor today?’ Grace asked, aiming for casual enquiry and falling well wide of the mark.

  Kitty shook her head. ‘I haven’t actually, but I wasn’t sure he’d be here anyway though, you know? I mean, he loves Holly and Taffy, don’t get me wrong – I just thought that, well, it being a Christening and all that . . . ?’

  She didn’t need to explain further; her awkward skirting of the issue was really explanation enough.

  Grace nodded, momentarily appeased, disbelieving that she hadn’t considered it. ‘How do you think he’s doing?’ she asked Kitty. ‘Really?’

  Kitty shrugged. ‘He’s a bit of an enigma really, isn’t he? I feel for him, actually. Can’t be easy being him some days, can it? Everyone seems to have an opinion, sometimes before they’ve even met him.’ She cast a filthy look in Cassie’s direction, her outspoken judgements carrying across the room. ‘And some people just seem to take against him on principle, as though it’s a natural price to pay for being successful. Professionally, I mean.’

  They both stilled for a moment; nobody could ever accuse Connor of having a successful personal life, after all.

  Grace sighed. ‘You know, I genuinely believed that trying things The Larkford Way, would make all the difference for him. Being in a community, all pulling together, but he just seems so—’

  ‘Lost?’ finished Kitty, nodding, a slight flush colouring her neck. The genuine concern and affection for him were all too clear to Grace, even if it was obvious that Kitty herself was still in denial. ‘He took on Mrs Hudson’s Irish wolfhound without a second thought, you know? And with all the other animals that seem to have been foisted upon him of late . . .’

  ‘He’s not great at saying no to anyone, is he?’ Grace agreed. ‘Or maybe he can just recognise a lonely soul?’

  ‘Who’s a lonely soul?’ interrupted Alice, still pale and wan, sipping at sparkling water, but determined not to miss out. Especially as Jamie had flown in for the weekend and was circling the room, happily in his element, a drink in his hand and a smile on his face.

  ‘Connor,’ said both Grace and Kitty at the same time.

  Grace felt that same flicker of alarm as she watched the expression falter on Alice’s face. She never got to know what was said inside the consulting rooms at The Practice, of course, but Alice clearly knew more than she was letting on.

  ‘Where is he?’ Alice asked, looking around, although generally it was never hard to spot Connor in a crowd – his height, his charisma and his habitual crowd of hangers-on normally marked out his presence whether he liked it or not. ‘I’m sure Holly said she’d invited him.’ Her brow furrowed as the same train of thought clearly passed through her mind as Kitty’s. ‘Still, maybe it’s not his cup of tea? He’s probably wining and dining Docie Lynn in some posh Cotswold eaterie, saved only for those in the know.’

  Alice didn’t sound convinced, but Grace didn’t miss the tightening of Kitty’s expression at the very suggestion.

  ‘I need to look in on Jamieson later anyway,’ said Kitty. ‘I’ll get all the scandal for you then.’ She managed a smile and Alice nudged her sympathetically, catching Grace unawares. Normally so attuned to those around her, she had somehow missed the flourishing friendship between these two. It was obvious, now she came to think about it – both utterly obsessed with animals, both young, committed professionals without families to rush home to. She smiled at the thought that they had each other for moral support, even as she felt superfluous for a moment. All her attention of late had been so caught up with Dan and their plans for the future that she knew she’d neglected her friendship with Alice; she just hadn’t realised that Kitty had stepped so smoothly into the breach.

  As she watched
the easy banter back and forth between them, she realised how far out of the loop she had fallen, especially when Jamie ambled over, tousling Kitty’s hair with easy affection and familiarity. The decade between them suddenly felt like a lifetime.

  Grace slipped away, almost unnoticed, as Kitty began filling Jamie and Alice in on the progress of each individual goat to join Connor’s venture, obviously already invested in the enterprise. Whether that was professionally or personally remained to be seen, but Grace couldn’t help thinking that Kitty would be the perfect antidote to many of the stresses and dramas in Connor Danes’s life.

  *

  ‘Heard you talking about Docie Lynn just now,’ said Pru Hartley with an acerbic tone, as Grace wandered over to the table where all the Christening goodies were laid out as a buffet. ‘You’ll get tarred with the same brush, you know, if you get involved in that Connor’s plans and schemes. He’s a troublemaker, no doubt. He’s going to drag this town’s good name through the mud, you wait and see. So long “prettiest market town” and hello “drug-ridden festival hell hole” – you mark my words.’ Pru rubbed at her sternum irritably, her acid reflux obviously acting up, the more she worked herself up.

  ‘Surely not,’ said Grace easily, refusing to bite – except into one of Pru’s deliciously moist brownies. ‘It’s really not that kind of festival. You should talk to him about it, honestly.’

  Pru looked at her darkly. ‘As if there’s any other kind of festival. You Google Glastonbury and see what I mean.’

  ‘Talk to him, Pru. He’s one of the good ones.’

  Pru gave her a scathing look. ‘You’ll note that he’s not here, is he? Supporting the very people who made him welcome?’ She tutted. ‘Cassie’s right: I don’t think rock stars are known for their community spirit, Grace. Don’t be swayed; dead wife or not, that one’s nothing but trouble.’ She paused, making an abrupt conversational turn. ‘Now tell me – what do you think of them brownies? They’re gluten-free, you know. I’ve been experimenting a bit because I reckon there’s a chance I’m celeriac.’

  ‘You’re what?’ Grace managed, spraying crumbs everywhere.

  ‘On account of my stomach problems – cutting out the gluten might be the answer, according to Dr Graham. You know, celeriac?’

  As accustomed as they all were to Pru’s constant malapropisms, it still took Grace a moment to realise she meant coeliac, by which time, Pru had turned away to offer more cake to the Reverend, her sudden Christian politeness in direct contrast to her comments about Connor, leaving Grace disquieted by both Pru’s vehement outburst and her casual disregard for the English language.

  True, there was only a handful of people who knew the reality of Connor’s situation – and Grace was beginning to doubt that even they saw the full picture – but was Pru actually typical of how the other Larkford residents viewed him? If so, he might actually be up for more opposition to his plans than he realised, or she’d acknowledged.

  She abandoned her delicious brownie on principle, her empty stomach protesting loudly, seeking out Dan among the crush of bodies for a second, sane opinion. Were lots of her friends and neighbours rather more two-faced than she’d realised?

  She marched across the room, upset at how disappointed that thought made her feel, even though the slight was surely Connor’s not her own. Seeing Dan still happily ensconced at the children’s table, she ground to a halt, abruptly changing gear, as her breath caught in her throat and all annoyances dissipated in a single moment.

  As Dan pulled out Lulu’s chosen playing card with a dramatic flourish and the little girl gasped in delight at his apparent magic, Grace only had eyes for Dan – for his adoring gaze, his unerring focus and his absolute attentiveness to one small exuberant child.

  ‘They’re gorgeous together, aren’t they?’ said Holly quietly, coming to stand beside her. ‘Do you think he sees it yet?’

  Grace had to swallow very hard before she was capable of answering. ‘I don’t know. I daren’t hope. He never – I mean, he always said that—’

  ‘The theory of adoption is very different to the reality, don’t you think?’ Holly suggested gently. ‘Maybe for Dan, it would have felt like an arranged marriage, whereas this is clearly—’

  ‘Love at first sight?’ said Grace, an emotional wobble to her voice.

  ‘I think so,’ said Holly, tucking her arm through Grace’s as much in affection as support. ‘Maybe it’s worth having the conversation again. Time might be of the essence, if you’re serious about Lulu.’ She sighed. ‘I can’t bear the thought of her being shuttled from pillar to post. I even suggested to Taffy that she just stay with us – she’s happy, she’s settled. Losing her mum and her grandma will be hard enough.’

  ‘And what did Taffy say?’ asked Grace, her heart in her mouth, as she waited for the answer.

  ‘He said that she was happy with us because of the sense of family and belonging at home; that there was only really one person she’d truly bonded with . . .’

  ‘Dan?’ managed Grace, tears filling her eyes as Holly nodded. ‘And do you think he—?’

  ‘I think he loves her, whether he knows it yet or not. I think he loves her far more than any of these other harebrained schemes he’s been cooking up to keep himself busy,’ Holly said.

  Grace’s focus returned unerringly to the tableau in the corner, as Ben, Tom and Lulu bested each other in a rambunctious game of Snap and Dan watched on contentedly, no apparent interest in heading to the bar or talking to his friends.

  Still waters ran deep with Dan Carter, as Grace knew only too well, but perhaps there was more going on behind those hypnotising brown eyes than even she had realised? Were their choices really so disparate if she maintained her stance on pregnancy? She sighed, no answers immediately forthcoming and no idea how even to begin the conversation with Dan. It hardly boded well for their future as potential parents, if they were still stumbling over the basics.

  If nothing else, Grace realised, today had been a timely reminder about the dangers of putting all of one’s eggs in a single basket, not to mention the fleeting nature of happiness and security. A gentle nudge from the Universe, perhaps, that actions spoke louder than words ever could?

  Chapter 32

  Holly smiled, finally able to relax – the deed was done, the troops were fed and watered and nobody had fallen out, even when Tilly’s gingerbread men had taken out one of the Major’s fillings. It was the very definition of success, by any measure of the recent Christenings in Larkford. What’s more, it had provided the perfect excuse to get Alice and Jamie in the same country, nay, the same room and it was immensely cheering to see that their instinctive chemistry was still very much in evidence.

  If only there was a logical way to bring him home for good – a solution that didn’t require Alice to lose her dignity and beg, ideally, although Holly could see that she was sorely tempted.

  But then, look at him. Jamie Yardley was a wonderful man. Not that dissimilar to Taffy in many ways – always wanting to do the right thing, even when that meant occasionally shortchanging their loved ones into the bargain. Seeing Taffy and Jamie side by side, exchanging stories, really highlighted the thought in her head.

  She clearly wasn’t the only one.

  ‘Now, in a cinema near you – Two Good Men!’ said Lizzie, in her best bonkers-American-movie-trailer voice. ‘You want the truth? You can’t handle the truth.’ Lizzie grinned, disproportionately pleased with herself. ‘Maybe you should warn Alice what she’s getting into. Being with a “good man” is not for the faint-hearted.’ She threw an arm around Holly’s shoulders and squeezed, dropping her voice to a whisper. ‘As well you know.’

  Holly smiled weakly. ‘You’d never imagine that “doing the right thing” could ever be considered a character flaw, would you?’

  Lizzie just nodded and then kissed Holly firmly on the cheek. ‘Not something that will ever trouble my darling Will,’ she said, glancing over and catching him checking the rugby scores
on his iPhone and propping up the bar. ‘Do you think I should intervene or leave the poor bastard in peace? He should really get a medal just for not upping and leaving me recently. Apparently, I am not an easy patient,’ she said, shrugging as though the claim eluded her.

  ‘Am I to understand that you’ve replaced me, Holly?’ Elsie’s imperious voice beside her made Holly jump, cutting through the conversation around them like crystal and prompting Lizzie to make a swift exit. Elsie after a few glasses of fizz was always a little unpredictable, but there was an edge of friction in her voice that worried Holly more.

  ‘I hardly think that’s even possible,’ she replied with a smile.

  ‘Oh really,’ said Elsie, thawing not even the slightest. ‘Then perhaps you could tell me why Reverend Taylor over there is oh-so-delighted that you’ve taken her advice – her advice, Holly – about your quandary.’ Her brow furrowed and she leaned forward, dropping her voice to a stage whisper. ‘And I didn’t even know you had one!’

  Holly felt a little blindsided, somehow having assumed that her conversation with Reverend Taylor might have fallen under the privacy of a confessional, despite neither of them being Catholic, or indeed any confessions having been shared. ‘Erm—’

  Elsie took her hand and squeezed it. ‘Not that I mind you asking a Higher Power for a little input, my darling, but I never feel you’re getting the full picture, if you discount the sins of the flesh.’ She gave a slightly tipsy wink and stumbled against Holly’s side. ‘If I’d known you were having “marital difficulties” I’d have been only too happy to offer a little wisdom of my own.’

  Elsie’s version of discretion meant dropping her voice a scant decibel and exaggeratedly mouthing her words. There couldn’t be a single soul in a three-metre radius that hadn’t heard every single word.