by Penny Parkes
‘Now, Tilly Campbell, as your mentor, I believe you need to see a few patients and then, you owe me some serious research. I’ve had a few more ideas . . .’
‘Well at least my nervous breakdown has been inspirational,’ said Tilly with a cheeky grin.
‘More than you could possibly know,’ said Holly slowly, as the cogs in her brain slowly slotted together and began to turn.
Chapter 38
Holly drew a looping line to connect the circles on the diagram in front of her, before sitting back to sip her coffee with a smile.
Progress indeed.
She couldn’t help but wonder how she’d soldiered on for all those months without these small moments of respite to regain her equilibrium, assuming perhaps that balance, much like her beloved skinny jeans, was simply another casualty of having twins. Twice.
But now, taking a break in The Deli in the hiatus between clinics, knowing that both Plum and Taffy would be taking care of her children and enjoying the feeling of seclusion from the steamed-up windows, she felt able to give a little more of herself without risking complete meltdown.
‘Nice pebbles,’ said Hattie, as she placed a plateful of goat cheese crostini beside her, already familiar with Holly’s affinity with visual planning. ‘Are you organising everyone in Larkford now?’
‘No-o,’ said Holly with a grin. ‘Just my kids, my colleagues and their entire work-life balance.’
‘Easy,’ said Hattie smiling. ‘I’m guessing you might want another coffee?’
‘Make it a double?’ Holly replied with feeling.
It had seemed such a simple concept in theory, to try and work out what each person’s ‘deal-breaker’ was – to pinpoint the priority issue that would make the difference between a day being meh or rewarding. Not so much in practice, as it turned out.
One person’s meat really did seem to be another person’s poison: in this case, the concept of simplifying and diversifying their working lives to give them all a sense of both job satisfaction and professional accomplishment – without sacrificing their personal lives into the bargain.
Holly was beginning to understand why there was such a large motivational section in the bookshop now. It was almost as though she were late to a party she hadn’t known she was even invited to.
She glanced up as the door swung open, heralding a draught of chilled air from outside and a sight for sore eyes. Connor gave her a self-conscious smile as he walked in, pushing his wayward hair back from his forehead, his newly acquired beard now trimmed into submission.
‘You’re back!’ exclaimed Holly, leaping up and giving him an awkward hug, noticing how thin he felt in her arms and jolted by a sense of relief. ‘Well, thank fuck for that!’ she said, earning herself a smile at least for the profanity and enthusiasm. She dropped her voice. ‘I’ve been so worried about you.’
He shrugged. ‘I guess you weren’t the only one.’ He dipped his head towards the door. Outside, Alice was pacing the pavement, Coco following her every turn, as she talked intently into her mobile phone. ‘I think they just thought if they outnumbered me, I’d have no choice but to come back.’
‘Sounds about right,’ Holly agreed with a gentle smile. ‘But you were coming back anyway?’ she checked. ‘I hadn’t completely misread the situation, had I?’
It was unprofessional and it was a little self-serving, but Holly’s boundaries were increasingly blurred when it came to Connor – first his friend, never really his doctor, but yet somehow with the burden of responsibility had she missed the warning signs.
He paused. ‘I guess so. For Hattie’s coffee, at least.’ He picked at the hem of his unravelling jumper as he placed his order, before turning back to Holly and dropping his voice. ‘But maybe their half-cocked intervention wasn’t such a bad idea – willing myself to feel better was kind of counterproductive, to be honest.’
Holly nodded. It was ever thus with this kind of depression: the more you pushed yourself to keep on going, the worse the symptoms could become. ‘Well, I for one am glad to see you. If nothing else, Nineteen has been pining for you in your absence.’
Connor smiled, the first genuine flicker of positive emotion since he walked through the door. ‘You know, for a porker, he’s remarkably health-conscious. Loves a windfall apple, doesn’t he? By the tonne! I think he rather likes living in the orchard. Even with all the honeybees humming away in their hives.’ Connor flinched unwittingly, looking around and lowering his voice still further, clearly so fragile and easily unsettled. ‘Holly, be blunt with me: Do you think I’m being selfish having an apiary at the farm, if there are children nearby with bee allergies?’ he asked, Cassie’s relentless criticism now apparently internalised and tormenting him.
‘I might be wrong, but I think there were bees in Larkford before you came to town. Rest easy on this one, Conn,’ she reassured him.
He nodded, clearly unconvinced, and obviously having reached that stage where believing the bad things was easier than accepting the good. ‘They won’t range far – even come summer – I’ve set up the hives in the orchard so they won’t need to. So, unless young Tarquin decides to start scrumping, I reckon he’s pretty safe,’ Connor said, his brow furrowed. ‘What’s the bets that whoever gets stung next summer will come knocking on my door, though?’
‘Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it,’ said Holly kindly, unwilling to buy into his catastrophising, trying to catch the right moment to make her own suggestion. ‘In the meantime, maybe you and I should have a proper chat? Not here; at The Practice?’
Connor hesitated, glancing outside to Alice. ‘Probably a good idea. I mean, Alice is lovely, but . . .’ He shrugged.
Holly rested a hand briefly on his shoulder. ‘We’ll get you sorted,’ she said. ‘I promise. But no shortcuts, okay?’ She thought back to Reverend Taylor’s advice all those weeks ago. ‘Nobody else can do the work but you, Conn, but we’re all here to help. You won’t be short of support. And if you’d rather see Dan or Taffy?’
He shook his head, his vulnerability flashing across his face for a moment. ‘I gather you’re the headshrinker of the team. But I can’t promise you I’m going to be an easy patient. I just know that I can’t go on feeling like this and pretending that’s okay. It’s getting harder and harder to keep up the façade, you know?’
Holly nodded. Connor’s ability to ‘switch on’ his public face had not escaped her notice. If nothing else, she was convinced that the ‘high-functioning’ part of her diagnosis for Connor was spot on the money. How exhausting that alone must be, she thought.
‘I’m so glad you’re back,’ said Holly once more, apropos of nothing, surprised by the lump of emotion in her throat.
Connor glanced up from his fraying cuff. ‘Ah, you big softie, Holly. I bet you don’t say that to all your patients.’
‘No,’ she said simply. ‘I don’t. But you’re not just my patient, Conn, you’re my friend and like it or not, there are lots of people in Larkford who care about you and want to help with your—’
He flinched again. ‘Has it been that obvious then, that I’m losing the plot? Should I expect another flurry of journalists on my doorstep any day now quizzing me about my nervous breakdown?’ He stopped mid-rant, looking embarrassed for a moment. ‘But that’s not what you meant, is it?’
‘Nope,’ said Holly easily. ‘I meant the festival, really. But if you choose to let people in about your health too, then I would wager the same applies.’
Connor shrugged, clearly discomfited at the very thought. For someone who lived life in the public eye, he was a surprisingly private man. ‘Yeah, about the festival . . .’
It was obvious from his tone that he’d made a decision; a decision that Holly couldn’t and wouldn’t endorse. ‘You’re not jacking it in,’ she said firmly.
‘Why not?’ Connor replied. ‘I’ve lost my sponsor. And it’s not as though it’s played out the way I’d hoped. I mean, I’d hoped to wow everyone with a stellar line-up a
nd the prospect of a boost to local tourism, but it seems I misread the room.’
‘Ah, the room,’ said Holly kindly. ‘Don’t feel bad. The thing about the room, is that it can change in a heartbeat. It’s part and parcel of living in a small town. Plus, you know, there are some pretty strong characters in Larkford who like to throw their weight around, but it doesn’t mean they speak for everyone, even if they are shouting louder.’
They shared a loaded glance, knowing exactly whom they were talking about.
‘Besides,’ said Holly firmly, ‘it’s been proven time and time again that a clear sense of purpose is incredibly helpful in treating anxiety and depression. We can’t have you wandering around aimlessly, adopting every waif and stray in town to populate your farm, can we?’
Connor shook his head. ‘Are you saying that I’m under doctor’s orders to go ahead?’
‘If you like?’ Holly said with a smile. ‘In fact, I think we should organise a summit meeting. You can’t do everything on your own, Conn, and if you want my honest opinion – although you didn’t ask – you might find everything a little easier, a little less overwhelming, if you let some people in? Start with the festival, then the farm, you know? Just accept that sometimes it’s good to have family around you and, I can promise you that in Larkford, we take the definition of family fairly loosely. It’s more about the love than the legality.’
He gave her a sideways look. ‘You’re all a bunch of hippies, you know that?’
Holly grinned. ‘Said the man organising a Winter Solstice festival!’
‘And food!’ Connor protested, despite himself. ‘There’s a whole vision thing going on. Food and music and the farm . . .’
‘Hippy!’ she accused with a grin.
Matthew Giles stood up from his table in the corner and walked over to the counter to get a coffee refill to go, smiling at their easy banter and laughter. ‘You two look like trouble this morning,’ he said by way of greeting.
‘Always,’ said Holly. She glanced across at Connor, wondering if what she was about to say was a step too far. ‘Matt? Listen, we’re putting together a working group to really get Connor’s festival off the ground. I don’t suppose you’d be interested, would you? I had a few thoughts about getting Bath Rugby on board as a sponsor too, so we’d really appreciate your input?’
Connor simply nodded. ‘Would love to hear your thoughts, mate. What you’ve achieved for the Young Carers is phenomenal. Hats off to you.’
Matthew’s delighted smile at the recognition lit up the room. ‘I’m so touched that you’ve noticed. Although, I have to say, the overlap with Dr Graham’s Invisible Disabilities group is eye-opening. Especially when it comes to the mental health side of things – I mean, what could be more invisible than anxiety and depression? And yet that’s what a lot of these kids are dealing with.’
Holly felt Connor stiffen beside her, relaxing only as he realised that Matthew wasn’t making a personal dig, merely talking with dedication and enthusiasm about his work.
‘The festival sounds amazing, by the way,’ Matthew said to Connor. ‘I’d be delighted to get involved. And not just because I’m a fan; I think it’s exactly what this town needs, to be honest. I mean, living in the countryside is great when you’re a grown-up, but how much stuff do we actually offer around here for our teens?’
He waved a hand around the room. ‘I for one would be thrilled to see anything on the agenda that pulled them away from their phones.’
He wasn’t wrong, Holly thought. Although, as a parent of younger children, it wasn’t exactly on her radar; she realised it probably should be. Every person under twenty-five in The Deli, not to mention on the Market Place outside, seemed to be wedded to their phone.
Alice included, who waved insistently at Connor for him to bring their coffees outside. Clearly any awe she felt for the rock star in their midst had long since evaporated. To Holly’s amusement, he did as he was bid, thanking her and Matthew sincerely as he left, carefully balancing two takeaway espressos and a bagful of Danish pastries in one hand.
‘Nice guy,’ said Matthew easily.
‘One of the best,’ Holly replied, watching him with Alice through the window, sharing a pain au chocolat, no scruples or pride between them now after what they’d shared together the last few days. Even their conversation was seemingly supplemented by Alice’s omnipresent iPhone though, as she showed him something that made Connor laugh in a way that gave Holly both comfort and hope for his long-term recovery.
‘Tell me, on the phones?’ Holly asked Matthew, intrigued. ‘What are they all looking at?’
Matthew grinned. ‘Instagram, Snapchat, Twitter, games . . . Where do you want to start? And sometimes it’s a great support network – some of the young carers in my group keep in touch that way and it means they don’t feel so alone. Sometimes, it’s just fun being nosey, you know. Like #spottedinlarkford – you can waste hours just scrolling through that.’
‘Spotted in what now?’ Holly asked, even as Matthew tapped on his own phone and pulled up the screen on Twitter. ‘Oh my God – how did I not know about this? It’s genius. Ooh.’ Holly flinched as she scrolled down and caught sight of a few choice tweets about Tilly. ‘And a bit mean. I had no idea. Do people really read this?’
‘Yup,’ said Matthew, shaking his head in amusement at Holly’s reaction. ‘Everyone in town but you, apparently.’
‘Isn’t it a bit, I don’t know, horrible? To be talking about people behind their backs?’ Holly asked awkwardly.
Matthew gave her a sideways look and clicked on the photo of Tilly and Plum holding hands. ‘Behind whose back?’ he said, as the dialogue pinging around online included, apparently, plenty of vocal input from @BaliaToscana – The Tuscan Nanny. The same Tuscan Nanny who was proving to be a bit of a liability, in Holly’s opinion.
No matter how amazing Plum was with the children, it seemed her personal life was steadily encroaching. Clearly a conversation needed to be had. And not online.
In person.
Sooner rather than later.
She paused, intrigued despite herself. ‘Is there anything on here about Connor’s festival?’
Matthew frowned. ‘You’re weird, Dr Graham. Everyone else I know – first thing they do is check to see if they get a mention. You? You go straight to the festival.’
‘Well, it was uppermost in my mind,’ she protested, even as her own logical brain agreed quietly with Matthew’s assessment.
Matthew flicked across the screen and post after post seemed to be dedicated to slamming Connor’s concept. ‘It’s such a shame really. Short-sighted too, business-wise. I mean the Solstice angle alone has to be a money-spinner in this part of the world, right? Not that we’ll be troubling Stonehenge or Avebury any time soon.’
Holly nodded, wondering whether Connor himself had seen this particular thread. She was more convinced than ever, having talked to him, that having a singular sense of purpose was integral to his ability to move forward, to settle here, to essentially start over.
As Matthew took his leave, promising his commitment to their working group, Holly sat back in her chair, deep in thought. She wasn’t sure why it hadn’t occurred to her sooner, but suddenly all her doodling and plotting for The Practice seemed one-dimensional and shallow.
What applied to Connor applied equally across the board.
Everyone needed a sense of purpose, a goal that was uniquely theirs.
It was all very well Holly trying to work out what pushed everyone’s buttons, but ultimately they needed to be the ones pushing them, to take responsibility for their own happiness and satisfaction.
She picked up her phone and typed in a message before she could have second thoughts:
Tilly, I’d like you to take over running the Health in the Community Scheme – and Big Bertha – your ideas, your plans, you’re accountable – what do you think?
Barely a second elapsed before a string of emojis pinged up on Holly’s screen – s
he wasn’t sure what half of them were, but the overwhelming message of positivity was backed up by the second text that followed almost instantly.
Yes please!!! I cannot thank you enough, Ace Mentor. This is EXACTLY what I needed Tx
Holly smiled and deftly coloured in one pebble on her diagram, considering her working lunch at The Deli time well spent. All she had to do now was tackle the rest of the Christmas shopping. She sat back in her chair and sipped her coffee; you couldn’t rush these things, she decided.
Chapter 39
‘Is she saying anything?’ asked Grace the next day, her back to the semi-frosted window of Keira’s ward, as they waited in the ‘family room’.
‘I can’t really see,’ Dan replied, his voice twisting in timbre with frustration. ‘Maybe Henry was wrong and we should just go in there and talk to her ourselves?’
Grace shook her head. ‘Actually, I agree with Henry. And he is the big-bucks family-law man. What’s the point in hiring him if we ignore his experience? Besides, he has a point – if we talk to her ourselves it might seem like coercion. Either way, it’s all a little bit ghoulish.’ Grace knew that her heart was ruling her head at this point, but the mother in her could barely begin to imagine the agonising decisions that poor Keira Fowler was trying to make right now.
No relatives.
No reliable friends.
And her mother at death’s door too.
How terrified must she be of making the wrong call for her daughter’s future? Possibly preferring to make no call at all, and let the chips fall where they may?
Nominating Holly as temporary guardian may have been a hurried gut-call, but it had been a good one.
And no matter what reservations Taffy had shared with Dan at the pub, Grace knew Holly only too well: there was no way she would turn Lulu out of her house unless there was a loving home awaiting her, ideally sanctioned by Lulu’s mother. From where Grace was standing, it was all too realistic a prospect that Lulu might be staying exactly where she was.
