Snowed in at the Practice

by Penny Parkes

  Plum glanced over her shoulder and smiled at Tilly as she and Taffy liberated the twins from the pram to be passed around and admired as always.

  ‘Good choice,’ said Taffy, trying to avert his gaze from Plum’s neckline as Olivia tugged at the fabric and gave everyone nearby an ample eyeful of cleavage.

  ‘I hope this is okay, that I did not mention sooner?’ Plum said, obviously aware that Taffy was in fact her boss.

  ‘Sure,’ said Taffy. ‘I mean. Yeah. Our Tilly might even stop being a flight risk if you give her enough reasons to stay.’ He settled back into his chair, a babe in each arm and with a wistful look at his pint.

  Plum and Tilly smiled at each other in that knowing way that new couples do, as though they were the only people in the world who understood each other completely.

  Dan returned with a trayful of drinks and snacks, having even thought to bring a long straw for Taffy. ‘Bumped into Matthew Giles at the bar.’ He gave Tilly a meaningful look and she glanced over his shoulder in alarm. ‘He’s all buoyed up by this new funding package and keen to celebrate.’ His clumsy attempts at conveying his cryptic message were utterly wasted though.

  ‘Ah, this Matteo – he is the one who is loving my Tilly, yes?’ Plum said, completely unfazed, and blissfully unaware of how smutty her innocent words sounded with her Italian accent.

  She paused and waited a moment for Matthew to turn around with his tray of drinks, glancing their way. Turning, she cupped Tilly’s cheek in her hand and leaned in to kiss her thoroughly, passionately, leaving no doubt in anyone’s minds as to the exact nature of their ‘friendship’.

  ‘And that,’ Dan said drily, as every single table around them fell silent, ‘is how you share news in Larkford.’

  Plum pulled away, her eyes fixed on Tilly’s. ‘So, now we have no secrets and you don’t have to tell a soul. Non c’è problema.’

  Tilly pressed her hands to her lips and blinked. ‘Well, when I said I didn’t want to tell everyone, that’s not exactly what I had in mind,’ she whispered.

  A slow but emphatic round of applause echoed round The Kingsley Arms, punctuated by occasional whoops and hollers. Larkford might at times be backwards in moving forwards, thought Dan, but the affection for Tilly was obvious in their reaction. Perhaps the team at The Practice hadn’t been the only ones to watch in concern as she ricocheted from one disastrous hook-up to another?

  ‘Well, I guess your way works too,’ said Tilly, blushing to the very roots of her hair. ‘Nothing left to say, is there really?’

  ‘Oh, I think one or two people might have a few questions,’ said Dan quietly, as he noticed the expression on Matthew’s face, along with one or two others who had clearly shared Tilly’s bed only recently.

  ‘Not today, though,’ said Taffy, attempting to wrangle his bendy straw into submission. ‘I think today is about welcoming Plum properly to the fold.’

  ‘The fold?’ queried Plum. ‘What am I folding?’

  ‘He means the team,’ whispered Tilly, not letting go of her hand. ‘My team.’ She paused and corrected herself: ‘Our team.’

  ‘Go, Team Taffy!’ Taffy said with feeling. ‘I still have t-shirts left if anyone’s interested?’

  Dan just shook his head. ‘You’re so behind the times, mate. It’s Squad 42 all the way now – Holly sent out an email.’

  ‘Of course she did,’ said Taffy, shaking his head in amused defeat.

  ‘So, lots of change on the horizon. Lots to celebrate,’ said Dan. ‘I think we may need a little continuity, just to keep us on the straight and narrow.’ He froze. ‘Not like straight, straight – but you know what I mean,’ he blustered.

  ‘What did you have in mind?’ asked Tilly curiously, pointedly ignoring his verbal flailing.

  Dan glanced around the group with affection. ‘I’m thinking a league. Or a competition of some kind.’ He paused as inspiration struck. ‘We need a Championship Game-Off. Cluedo. Jenga. Monopoly. All the Classics.’

  ‘Work hard; play hard,’ Taffy said. ‘But even I have to admit the dartboard was a mistake,’ he said, glancing over at Maggie, their pharmacist, and the stunning black eye that was turning steadily ochre.

  ‘Okay then. Winner to be announced at Connor’s festival thingy,’ Dan said firmly. ‘Sounds perfectly sensible to me.’

  ‘Sensible?’ queried Tilly, knowing full well that the team would jump on this idea in a heartbeat.

  ‘Well, I shall have you know that we are in fact professional grown-ups. As has only recently been brought to my attention. Of course we’ll be sensible,’ Dan countered.

  ‘Although, to be completely honest, my mum doesn’t let me play Monopoly anymore,’ Taffy said quietly. ‘Something to do with over-enthusiasm.’

  ‘Hmmm,’ said Dan. ‘Well, in my league you can be as enthusiastic as you like!’

  ‘Madonna mia!’ murmured Plum under her breath. ‘What have you started?’

  Chapter 37

  Holly pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes and breathed out slowly the next morning. The headaches in her life were both literal and metaphorical these days and she could see only too clearly how easy it would be to continually reach for the ‘slightly stronger’ painkillers; slightly stronger, in her professional experience, meaning opioids. Opioids meaning a slippery slope to addiction – even the over-the-counter, common or garden packs you could buy freely from any pharmacy. It was certainly food for thought, not only where her worsening headaches were concerned, but also some of her patients.

  She’d had quite a shock, coming back so abruptly after her maternity leave, at how many of her patients were relying on these meds just to function in their lives. Yet another example, she felt, of how a longer conversation might be more helpful – and save money – in the long run, than simply writing a prescription. They would never dream of sticking a Band-Aid on a dirty cut, but when it came to the thorny, subjective issue of ‘pain’, it seemed as though that was exactly what they’d been doing. That alone was motivation enough to keep pursuing her plans, no matter how many obstacles were seemingly determined to fall in her path.

  She took away her hands, blinking in the light and squinted at her phone screen.

  So much for business as usual.

  Any thoughts about focusing on her planned reshuffle at The Practice, or even her re-entry to the work place, shelved in light of a moment’s indiscretion.

  She was actually a little stunned at the emails tumbling into her inbox from some of their patients. From everything Taffy had told her, the reception to Tilly’s new relationship status had been overwhelmingly positive at the pub, and yet . . .

  She quickly tucked her phone away as Plum bustled into the kitchen, all five children suited and booted for the walk to school. ‘So, I drop the boys and then take the girls to visit Banana, yes?’

  ‘Yes, please,’ Holly replied, this impromptu visit to Blackleigh Farm the most sure-fire way she could think of for giving them all a little breathing space to quash the rumours and narrow-mindedness that seemed to have gathered impetus overnight. ‘The Major knows you’re coming and that Lulu wants to meet the new little horses. I imagine the twins will sleep all morning, waking up so early.’

  Plum nodded, her glance flickering to the large station clock that dominated one wall of the kitchen, not to mention their lives at times. There were never enough hours in the day.

  ‘Holly,’ she said quietly, ‘I am not blind to what is happening, what people are saying in the town – sending emails to Tilly – and perhaps I should have been a little more discreto. Oh Holly – mi dispiace, non è mai stata mia intenzione—’ Her words tumbled out, one on top of another, bursting with emotion that conveyed something of her meaning, even if Holly’s schoolgirl translation was a little muddy.

  ‘Stop, Plum. Stop. My Italian can’t keep up with you,’ Holly said gently. ‘Look, nobody’s judging you here. Would a little more discretion have been a good idea? Well, probably, yes. But mainly because Till
y has a position of responsibility in this community and, maybe yes, Larkford is a little slow to move with the times.’ She took a breath and reached out to squeeze Plum’s hand reassuringly. ‘We need to support Tilly now, okay? It’s all very new for her, to feel the way she does, and her job means that she’s probably going to find it harder than you to adapt. Okay?’

  Plum nodded, looking discomfited and ill at ease with herself for the first time since she’d arrived in their lives. Holly sighed. The last thing she needed right now was to be holding the nanny’s hand while she worked through her own personal and professional crises.

  She had enough on her plate.

  She remembered all too clearly Elsie’s words of wisdom when they’d first considered the idea of a live-in nanny or au pair: ‘So long as you realise you’re gaining another child, as well as some help with the ones you’ve already got, then you won’t be disillusioned.’

  How very true.

  Holly stood up and poured some coffee into a travel mug, pressing it into Plum’s hands with a warm smile. ‘Enjoy the fresh air, enjoy the countryside and leave Tilly’s professional image to us, okay?’

  ‘I have let her down,’ said Plum tremulously. ‘Oh, Holly, what did I do to her? This is her home, her job, her image and I just wanted everyone to know . . . I have been so shellfish!’ she wailed. ‘Only thinking about me and what I want.’

  Holly couldn’t help a small yelp of laughter, not just at Plum’s malapropism, but also at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation. It hardly needed a boost of continental drama. It was surely Tilly who needed their compassion and support most. This was obviously not Plum’s first rodeo and yet she seemed to have no concept that Tilly might need a gentler approach to a whole new world of same-sex relationships.

  ‘Plum. Take the kids to school, keep the twins warm and let me talk to Tilly, okay?’ she said firmly, the clock above the table forcing the issue.

  Plum got as far as the door, before turning to face her with a tear-stained face. ‘If you want me to leave, Holly, I would understand.’

  ‘Don’t be daft, Plum,’ said Holly bluntly, making sure she kissed all of the children in turn on their way out.

  Dear God, she thought tiredly, as the door closed behind them. Elsie had been right on the money. Unfortunately her own parenting experience to date had only prepared her for playground scuffles and supermarket meltdowns. She had never felt so ill-equipped.

  Her phone rang beside her on the table – Patronising Patricia – well, thought Holly, let’s see what she advises on this one.

  ‘I’m so glad you called, Patricia,’ she said. ‘There’s an adjustment issue at work I’d love your thoughts on.’

  *

  Holly walked into The Practice twenty minutes later, late and frazzled, to find Grace waiting for her in the hallway, a cup of coffee held out as an offering and an apology on her lips. ‘I hope you had your Ready Brek this morning?’ she said. ‘I’m so sorry but your clinic is massively overbooked. Alice is en route back from Dorset, but until then I’ve had to share Tilly’s patients out among you all.’

  ‘Are you serious?’ Holly checked, almost waiting for the punchline. ‘I can’t believe people would actually boycott her clinic because she happens to like girls. Frankly, based on half the men in my acquaintance, so do I! It’s bizarre.’

  ‘Well, as insightful as that was,’ said Grace with a twinkle, ‘you’ve actually got the wrong end of the stick: it’s Tilly who’s refusing to see patients. Apparently she got a few judgey emails and is dying of mortification.’ Grace shook her head. ‘Poor girl, doesn’t know whether she’s coming or going. Yesterday she was all “out and proud” – snogging in the pub – and today she’s—’

  ‘Oh hang on,’ interrupted Holly, ‘that’s hardly fair. From what I heard, she didn’t really get much of a say before Plum landed a smacker on her.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Grace, clearly wrong-footed. ‘Well, I’m all for a little bit of what you fancy doing you good, but it’s not rocket science to see that a little careful handling might have made the transition easier. For everyone.’

  Holly shrugged. ‘They’re young, they’re in love. Common sense just goes out the window, doesn’t it?’ she said wistfully. ‘Being a grown-up, considering all the options, weighing up the right strategy – well, it just doesn’t have the same rosy hue, does it?’

  ‘That was said with feeling,’ Grace replied, tucking her arm through Holly’s as they walked towards her consulting-room door. ‘Tell you what, let’s get through the sapphic shuffle and then we’ll make a plan to do something spontaneous.’

  Holly turned. ‘You see! Did you hear that? You can’t plan to be spontaneous. Let’s face it – our days of snogging in the pub are long gone.’

  ‘Speak for yourself,’ Grace countered.

  ‘Not to mention that, according to Patronising Patricia, I shouldn’t try and mother everyone at work, just because I’ve had a baby. I don’t think she knows her advice is about five years too late!’

  Grace glanced at her watch. ‘Speaking of which, I don’t suppose you could pop in and have a word with Tilly just to reassure her – it would make the whole day go one hell of a lot more smoothly with all hands on deck.’

  Holly swigged the coffee and gave Grace back the mug. ‘There’d better be Danish pastries in my future, Grace Allen,’ she said, striding towards Tilly’s closed door, taking a deep breath as she did so.

  Pushing open the door, she could see immediately that Grace hadn’t been exaggerating. It was as though the über-confident Tilly they all knew (and worried about) had proverbially left the building. Instead, Holly took in her pale anxious face and the sleeves dragged down over her hands, her whole demeanour designed, presumably, to avoid attention or notice.

  ‘Well,’ said Holly, ‘I hope Connor Danes knows what a bloody good friend you are!’

  ‘What?’ said Tilly, intrigued despite herself. ‘What’s Connor got to do with any of this?’

  Holly perched on the treatment couch and shrugged. ‘Well, nobody’s talking about that awful radio phone-in, now, are they?’ She smiled. ‘I think he should really say thank you in person, don’t you?’

  Tilly frowned. ‘You know I’ve seen you pull this routine with Ben and Tom a hundred times? You can’t just “jolly me out” of this – obviously it was a huge mistake . . .’

  ‘Why?’ Holly countered. ‘You like Plum; she likes you. Just because it’s a slight deviation from your usual love-’em-and-leave-’em routine, doesn’t mean it’s a mistake. In fact,’ she paused, determined to make sure she had Tilly’s undivided attention, ‘I might go so far as to say it’s the first truly authentic decision you’ve made since you joined us.’

  ‘Are you saying I’ve been living a lie?’

  ‘Nope. It can’t be a lie, if you didn’t know either, right? And, from where I was sitting – admittedly grossly pregnant, and utterly hormonal – you’ve been questing for something from the moment you turned up at the auction all those months ago. Maybe, your Damascene moment isn’t about your patients, and your causes and your charitable works. Maybe, it’s about finding out what makes you tick?’

  ‘I’m not a clock, Holly,’ Tilly said sulkily, but it was obvious that the words were playing over in her mind. ‘Do you mean all my volunteering was just a symptom of confusion?’

  ‘Nope. Just that you were looking for validation, right? Trying to fill the hole in your chest, the longing to belong, that no amount of one-night stands could satisfy.’

  Tilly chewed on her bottom lip. ‘I don’t feel like that with Plum. And I don’t feel as though I need to charge off to the Andes to make a difference. When we’re together it just feels normal, like I’ve always known her.’

  ‘You see,’ said Holly. ‘Now, how can something that makes you feel so grounded and authentic possibly be a bad thing? Or something to be embarrassed about? I mean, if old Mrs Doo-Dah has a bee in her bonnet about girls who like girls, I would suggest t
hat’s her issue, not yours. And certainly not something to prevent you from doing the job that you happen to be getting rather good at.’

  Holly breathed a sigh of relief at having made even the smallest of connections; she was navigating blind here. No matter what Patronising Patricia had said, the only way forward had to be instinctive, had to verge on the maternal. And based on Tilly’s hands slowly emerging from her sleeves and the full-bodied sniff stopping tears in their tracks, something of what she’d said must have resonated.

  ‘How on earth do you know all this stuff?’ Tilly said, after a moment.

  Holly shrugged. ‘I watched an awful lot of Oprah on maternity leave?’

  Tilly stood up and walked across the room. ‘Now, if I give you a hug, I’m not coming on to you, okay? I’m just saying thank you.’

  Holly laughed and squeezed back, a little overcome by how much this awkward, cagey girl had come to mean to her.

  ‘And I should probably say the same to the indignant Mrs Doo-Dah and her wonky nipple. God forbid, I might take one look at her droopy old bosom and be unable to resist her.’ Tilly huffed. ‘It’s okay to let Coco sniff that one out, right? If she can get past the smell of cabbage, I mean.’ Tilly chortled as she released Holly from their hug, her entire demeanour now lighter and more like her usual self – just without the sharp corners.

  Holly smiled broadly, choosing to ignore any disrespect to Mrs Grayson, who frankly had jettisoned the right when she wrote that hateful email.

  Ah, youth, she thought, bowled over by Tilly’s ability to bounce back and wondering when she herself had lost the knack.

  Authenticity and resilience seemed to be transforming the young woman before her. And maybe the answer really was that simple and Billy Ocean was, in fact, a prophet before his time – when the going got tough, the answer was simply to get going.

  Holly glanced around Tilly’s boxy consulting room and frowned, all her plans for The Practice seemingly illuminated, yet hardly bearing in mind the lack of sunlight in this cupboard.