Snowed in at the Practice

by Penny Parkes

  Alice accepted the offered espresso with a smile, wandering around the kitchen, taking in the all-encompassing views from every window. Not another soul in sight. True isolation – both literal and metaphorical.

  ‘We’ve come to say sorry,’ she said simply.

  *

  With the benefit of hindsight, of course, it had been a mistake to bring Kitty. Perhaps it was the illusion of his old life and new life overlapping that seemed to make Connor flinch every time she spoke, or touched him. And it was obvious from the familiarity and frequency of her touch that theirs was a friendship that had prospects.

  ‘Come and show me the grounds then,’ Alice encouraged, as the sun finally broke through the cloud cover, and the coffee had long since been replaced by wine. Very good wine, as it happened. Clearly Connor’s cellar had a lot to recommend it, nervous breakdowns aside.

  Kitty was lying on the enormous sofa in the kitchen, Jamieson flaked out, snoring, half on top of her and the other dogs pressing themselves tightly around her. She wasn’t going anywhere. Jamie sat back at the kitchen table, feet propped up. ‘I’ll stay here.’ He gave Alice and Connor a brief nod, his presence benign but reassuring.

  Connor needed no encouragement, only serving to convince Alice that her intuition was right. When worlds collide . . .

  Stepping from the momentary brightness of the landscaped lawns into the cover of the trees, Alice felt the temperature drop still further. With each step, she and Coco kicked up the virgin snow, the first to break its crisp finish. ‘I can see why you love it here,’ she said to Connor. The rural isolation of Connor’s Dorset estate made Larkford look positively cosmopolitan by comparison and the snow only compounded its rare beauty.

  ‘It’s very special,’ he agreed, ‘but hardly the reason you’re making the longest house call in NHS history?’

  ‘Oh, this isn’t a house call,’ Alice countered instantly. ‘I’m not here as your doctor; I’m here as your friend. In fact, there was so much competition for the Find Connor Mission, that we all drew straws. Me, Lizzie, Will, Holly, Taffy, Elsie – even Clive was beginning to wonder where you’d scooted off to.’

  Connor raised an eyebrow sceptically. ‘And you got the short straw?’

  ‘Exactly!’ said Alice, blushing furiously as she stumbled into his trap. ‘No! I mean, not the short— That is, I won.’

  ‘I appreciate you coming, I do. But you’re on a fool’s errand. If there’s one thing the last few weeks have taught me, it’s that I can’t run away from my problems.’

  Alice’s brow furrowed. ‘But isn’t that exactly what you are doing?’

  They stepped out into a wide, open glade, which was crisscrossed by deer tracks, startling a pair of red kites, who swept up into the air with such grace and majesty that Alice found herself speechless. She glanced around and her gaze fell upon a single winter cherry tree, its nascent blossom incongruous against the snow, and it became clear that theirs had been no aimless ramble.

  ‘I ran away to Larkford,’ Connor corrected her. ‘So there’s no wonder it didn’t work out. I needed to come back here. To deal with it properly. I guess I just realised that I can’t live with one foot in the past, or it will always be calling to me . . .’

  ‘So, selling the estate?’ Alice ventured.

  Connor shrugged. ‘Time to say goodbye.’ He saw her wince and a half-smile tugged briefly across his face. ‘It’s nothing dramatic. Why do people always assume that if you’re creative, you’re all about the drama? It’s a question of practicality really. How can I commit to a life in Larkford, building a business there, if I’ve always got this place as a bolthole? It’s just hard, you know, to let go? Let alone to start building a new life . . .’

  He stepped over to the tiny cherry tree in the centre of the clearing, its very fragility showing its youth. ‘Rachel and I planted this tree the same weekend we found out she was expecting.’

  ‘Oh,’ managed Alice quietly, imminent tears beginning to gather and a prescient tingle at the back of her neck.

  ‘This was supposed to be our forever home. My grandchildren were supposed to climb this tree and learn about its history. Our family history. How can I move on, Alice, and leave this tree behind?’

  ‘Bloody hell,’ gulped Alice, all professionalism long since having deserted her. ‘I have no idea, Conn. Not a bloody clue.’ She sniffed inelegantly. ‘But I do think you’re right and that living with the past is no way to build a future. And I think that Rachel would agree. I mean, I didn’t know her – but you do. You know that she would want you to be happy again.’

  Connor gave a wry smile. ‘She used to tease me about the second Mrs Danes, you know? But it was only ever funny because we knew it wouldn’t happen . . . It still won’t.’

  They stood in silence for a moment, Coco circling around them, contentedly drinking in the feast of new smells and delights. It was certainly tempting to think that this rural idyll might hold all the answers that Connor was obviously looking for, but Alice held firm. He needed people around him, specifically people who cared, as he made his next steps into the world.

  She opened her mouth, about to tell him just that, when he spoke.

  Not necessarily to her, or so it seemed. Perhaps near her was a more accurate assessment, as he quietly unburdened his soul.

  ‘I didn’t go looking for fame, you know? I was just this awkward, spotty, gangly teenager – I looked as though I’d got caught in the elevator doors. But I loved my music. And then I got to college and there were four of us. Just having fun, jamming together. It gave us something to focus on while everyone else was getting girlfriends . . .’ He gave a small, tired laugh at the memory. ‘And then, one day, there was Rachel. She saw something in me, I guess. She saw enough to make it worth her while to shack up with a music nerd, when she could have had her pick of any man in the Student Union.

  ‘And she made me a better me. Even without all the fame and the success and the madness – I was still a nicer bloke when she was in the room.

  ‘And now, without Rachel, it’s like I’ve forgotten how to be “Connor Danes” – I’ve forgotten how to be anything other than that awkward kid.’ He shrugged. ‘Sitting with her in Hyde Park blowing bubbles at the pigeons is the last authentically “me” moment I remember before this whole crazy Hive thing began. I have no idea who to be now,’ he finished despondently.

  Alice reached out and wrapped one arm around his shivering shoulders, resting her head against him. ‘Just be yourself, Conn.’

  ‘I have no idea who that is. And how clichéd is that?’ he replied earnestly. ‘Middle-aged rocker trying to “find” himself by organising some mad music festival? You know, I think it’s because we all missed the part where most people grow up – we got to carry on playing every day and got paid to do it . . . I’m just a teenager in an ageing body at this point.’

  He shook his head as Alice made to contradict this assessment. ‘Maybe I should have bought a Porsche instead of a farm and just embraced it?’

  ‘A full on midlife crisis?’ Alice said doubtfully.

  ‘Or finally time to grow up, right?’ He sighed. ‘She’d like the irony I suppose. Rachel. Me quitting the band now, even though I couldn’t do it when she asked me to.’ He paused. ‘She was worried I was going to be Peter Pan,’ he explained, his fingers still grazing the delicate blossom of the cherry tree in front of them. ‘She wasn’t sure you could be in a band and still be a good dad.’

  Alice certainly wasn’t going to acknowledge that Rachel probably had a point. There was nothing to be gained by adding to the burden of Connor’s guilt.

  ‘So I’ve been thinking, while I’ve been here, that somehow, I owe it to Rachel to find something positive out of this whole ghastly mess.’

  ‘Like the festival?’ prompted Alice.

  He shrugged. ‘Maybe. But actually I was thinking more about other people’s kids. The kids that don’t know that eggs don’t come in boxes or what a cow looks like, or what gra
ss feels like walking barefoot . . .’ He nodded to himself, as though a decision had been made.

  ‘Like an outreach programme?’ Alice said, trying to follow his train of thought.

  ‘Well, it seems mad to me that a third of the kids in this country don’t know where milk comes from, you know? And who are they more likely to listen to, eh? “Connor Danes” or some crusty old farmer?’

  Alice eyed him up. The stubble on his jawline, the filthy wellies and tattered muddy clothes, smiling at the look of peaceful determination that had settled on his face. ‘A distinction without a difference, my friend,’ she said, tucking her arm through his and feeling his laughter vibrate through her.

  Baby steps, she thought, as they walked back towards the house, to Kitty, Jamie and the other dogs. At least he was thinking ahead, thinking of a future. All she had to do now was persuade him that his future was in Larkford, among friends.

  Chapter 36

  Back in Larkford, Dan and Taffy wound their way among friends, neighbours and patients to snag the last available table in the pub, both of them relieved to have finally heard from Alice. It seemed as though the whole team had been holding their breath for a while there.

  No matter what came next, Dan thought, whatever Connor decided to do, at least he was safe and supported. At least the dialogue was open.

  Laughter and the rustle of crisp packets punctuated every conversation around them, the recent snow days clearly having achieved more in the way of camaraderie and bonhomie than any number of medical interventions and Dan couldn’t help thinking that it was exactly where Connor should be. Although . . .

  ‘Who knew it would be so busy this afternoon,’ grumbled Dan, as the pub’s enormous wood burner belted out heat and he pulled off his jumper, tossing it onto the chair beside him, earning quite a few appreciative stares as his shirt rode up revealingly.

  Even Taffy found himself staring a little at the impressive six-pack that Dan was sporting. ‘Jesus, Dan, how in hell are you getting fitter with age when the rest of us are declining into spuds?’

  Dan raised an eyebrow at Taffy’s prurient interest in his stomach. ‘Something you’d like to share with the group?’

  Taffy scowled. ‘Ignore me, I’m just jealous. I have to tell you that I knew having babies was a challenge for a woman’s figure, I just hadn’t realised what a toll it would take on mine.’ He prodded at his own softening stomach in annoyance. ‘The less sleep I get, the more crap I eat – and there’s always, always snacks in the house for the kids.’

  ‘Ah, the vicious circle of life,’ said Dan, addling his idioms. ‘Of course, some of us spend hours working out to distract ourselves from our deficiency in that department. So, you know, swings and roundabouts.’ He sipped at his orange juice, eyeing Taffy’s cola with longing.

  ‘Dare I ask how things are progressing on that front?’ Taffy asked, dropping his voice until only Dan could hear him.

  ‘Well, I guess two steps forward, one step back is a fair approximation,’ he said, not quite meeting Taffy’s eye.

  ‘Hang on,’ Taffy counted on his fingers, ‘that still means you’re moving forwards though, right?’

  Dan looked up, trying and failing to keep his voice level. ‘Let’s just say that my thoughts on adoption aren’t exactly what they were. And that Grace and I seem to be singing from the same song sheet for once, but it’s not straightforward.’

  ‘Nothing in life that’s worth having ever is,’ said Taffy.

  ‘You’ve been living with Elsie too long,’ Dan countered.

  ‘No such thing,’ Taffy said with a grin. ‘I can’t pretend that peace and quiet is something we have a lot of at Number 42, but I couldn’t be happier. The more the merrier as far as I’m concerned.’

  A flicker of anxiety crossed Dan’s face, however much he tried to hide it. ‘I know we’re supposed to be keeping it under our hats; but it seems weird not to share this with you. Can I tell you something, just between us?’

  ‘Always.’

  ‘Grace and I, well, we’ve been exploring a few options on the adoption front, or possibly even a legal guardianship, but really all our hopes are kind of focused on one child—’

  ‘Lulu?’ Taffy interrupted with a knowing smile.

  ‘Lulu.’ Dan nodded. ‘I don’t know what it is about that child, Taffs, but I’ve fallen completely in love with her. And Grace too – there’s just a connection between us and her circumstances are so up in the air, but she’s everything I could ever wish for in a daughter and more.’

  ‘You’re soulmates,’ said Taffy simply, with slightly uncharacteristic insight. ‘And it’s obvious to anyone watching that she feels the same. She gravitates towards you, Dan, as though you’re the only person in the room. And let’s face it, her circumstances, as you put it, really don’t have a happy ending in sight, do they?’

  Dan shook his head. ‘Grace and I talked to Keira yesterday, all above board – and offered our home for Lulu. She hasn’t got long left, poor girl, but she’s incredibly focused when it comes to her daughter. I get the impression, though, that she was hoping that Holly might decide to make the current arrangements more permanent.’

  ‘Whoa,’ said Taffy, breathing out in a whoosh. ‘You mean, she wants Lulu to stay with me and Holly, like, officially join the family? I hadn’t realised.’

  Dan nodded, a half shrug doing little to conceal how invested he was in this conversation. ‘I guess. I mean, you guys have form on the parenting front; I don’t.’

  ‘Yes, but Grace does. I know her kids are all grownup and they’re not exactly the most reliable of visitors, but they’re good kids, yeah? Isn’t one of them in the army now?’

  Dan nodded. ‘Freddie is in the Welsh Guards and Luke is a carpenter on the Duchy Estate in Cornwall. Nice lads. Bit crap at keeping in touch with their mum, but seem fairly genuine.’

  ‘Is there anything you could do to convince Keira that you and Grace are the answer?’ Taffy asked.

  ‘I’m not sure I want to “convince” her – either she thinks we’ll take care of Lulu or she doesn’t, but it has to be her choice. Well, hers and May’s – but I’m not sure May even knows what day of the week it is anymore. The clock is running out for both of them.’

  ‘When did life get so complicated?’ Taffy mused, obviously feeling the burden of expectation heavy on his shoulders.

  ‘When we became grown-ups, I suppose,’ Dan replied.

  ‘What? When did this happen?’ Taffy replied with a weary grin. ‘This is fresh information!’ He shrugged. ‘Do you know what, though, I think Holly would agree with me, that even if Lulu was living with you, she’d still be a part of our family in every way that matters. Maybe Keira will see that too . . . Or maybe she should actually talk to Holly about it. I mean, my wife is rubbish at saying no to people in need, but she’s spread pretty thin these days. And she’s being brilliant about me wanting time with the kids, and maybe even bringing the Rugby funding into the fold.’

  ‘She’s not still thinking of taking the job?’ Dan’s head shot up like a meerkat.

  Taffy shook his head. ‘Yes, but no, but . . . You know I said how we were planning on restructuring our working lives so we both got a bit of what we needed? Well, Holly seems to have taken it one step further in her head – she’s trying to tick that box for everyone at The Practice. Now, it might be a fool’s errand, but—’

  ‘When Holly sets her mind to something, never say never,’ Dan interrupted thoughtfully. ‘So we each get to do a day in Bath? Is that the plan?’

  Taffy shrugged. ‘I’ve given up trying to second-guess how her mind works. I’ve only just learned to actually tell her what I’m grizzling about rather than wait for her to guess. Communication works – who knew? Relationships are never easy, are they? In real life, I mean.’

  Dan leaned forward and gave Taffy a nudge towards the window. ‘And I imagine you’re not the only one thinking that, right now.’

  Taffy turned to see where Dan was
looking and his mouth dropped open in surprise. ‘Is that my nanny holding hands with our junior, while walking my kids?’ he managed in staccato bursts.

  ‘Looks like it,’ Dan said with a grin. ‘Life in Larkford is nothing but incestuous, is it? Go, Tilly. Look how sweet they are together.’ Dan tried not to show his surprise; Taffy was looking stunned enough for both of them. It was some measure of the man he wanted to be that he swallowed all the one-liners that sprang immediately to mind.

  ‘I can’t believe our nanny is a lesbian,’ Taffy stumbled after a moment. ‘She never said. I mean, it explains why she never laughs at my jokes, but thinks Holly’s are hysterical.’

  ‘Does it, though?’ Dan asked sympathetically. ‘It could be that you’re just not that funny these days.’

  It was as though he had questioned Taffy’s very reason for being, based on the filthy look he earned in reply.

  ‘I suppose every town should have a lesbian,’ Taffy said after a moment of consideration.

  ‘Happy towns have two,’ quipped Dan in reply, colouring with embarrassment at his lack of restraint.

  Taffy just grinned. ‘They do look happy though, don’t they? I mean, if you ignore the slightly terrified glances Tilly keeps shooting our way.’ He stood up and opened the window. ‘Come and join us, I’m in need of a cuddle!’ he called out. ‘From the twins, I mean,’ he clarified hastily.

  Dan chortled to himself, relieved he wasn’t the only one tripping over himself in a bid to be as supportively open-minded as possible.

  ‘Grab a seat and I’ll get some drinks in,’ Dan said as Tilly and Plum came into the pub, weaving their way through the tables towards them. ‘Looks like we have some good news to celebrate?’ He smiled at them both. ‘I love lesbians,’ he blurted and then froze on the spot as Taffy wet himself laughing. ‘I mean, I’m so pleased that you’ve found each other – that you’re happy, being together, that is, and—’

  ‘Me too,’ ventured Tilly, shaking her head and trying not to laugh at his obvious distress, as he dug himself in deeper. ‘Well, if we’re being strictly accurate, it’s only this one actually.’