by Penny Parkes
Yet here she was.
Not even forty and on the shelf.
Her body may be honed to perfection in the gym, but really what was the point when nobody ever got to see it?
Julia sighed. Even Holly, with those vile stretchy suede boots and her endearingly rumpled ponytail, seemed to attract men like flies. All the guys falling over themselves to make sure she has a snack because she’s oh-so-tired looking after her picture-book twins. Even Holly, with her undoubted stretch marks and the faintest hint of a moustache, was undoubtedly getting more action than she was.
Maybe if she hadn’t been so determined to maintain the façade of perfection around Dan, Julia thought, they might still be together now?
If, just for once, she’d enjoyed breakfast in bed, without worrying about crumbs? If they could have made love in the shower, without noticing the mildew?
If she had found a way to say ‘fuck it!’ would she still have Dan?
Rather than viewing Elsie Townsend as outspoken and eccentric, to be tolerated at best, should she in fact be venerated as the font of all knowledge? She was definitely on to something, Julia conceded.
Finally stepping out into the Market Place brought Julia up short, as it was suddenly buzzing with the lunchtime sandwich-grabbers. Piers had been prattling on with his spiel at her side, but her mind was still partially in her alternative universe.
Seeing Henry Bruce walking straight towards them, lifting slightly from his elevated shoes with each step, and with Jade hanging on to his arm, forced Julia’s mind into focus, thinking fast.
‘Shit! Just play along, would you, Piers?’ she whispered urgently.
‘Henry, Jade, you two look like you’re on a mission,’ Julia smiled determinedly.
Henry did a swift double-take when he saw who Julia was with, even more so when Julia tucked her arm possessively through Piers’.
‘We’re just popping out for some lunch at the deli,’ Henry replied, conspicuously trying not to stare at Piers. After all, who was he to talk?
Jade, however, had no such compunction. ‘So,’ she said cheerily, ‘how long have you two been dating then? You’ve done well to keep that quiet around here.’
Julia slowly exhaled. It was a sign of how bad things had become that she would rather let the town believe she was dating Slimy Bates, than let on to her financial predicament. Pride was obviously yet another luxury she couldn’t afford any more.
‘It’s all quite recent actually,’ said Piers truthfully. ‘We’re just seeing how it goes, aren’t we, honey?’ Never one to miss an opportunity, Piers leaned in and kissed Julia lingeringly on the lips, squeezing her bottom for good measure.
That obviously answered her earlier question then – not off-puttingly perfect, merely out of his league – he’d leapt like a salmon at the opportunity for a feel.
It was hard to say at that point who was more uncomfortable and Henry merely raised one perfect eyebrow. ‘When you’re done with your appointment, do come and have a word with me, Julia. It’s important. I’ll wait at the deli for you.’
‘Okay,’ she said, with no time to think up an excuse, all efforts being focused on other things. One, how to disguise the revulsion she felt for Henry Bruce, his smoothly manicured fingers having stroked the side of Jade’s neck throughout the entire conversation. And two, how to keep her temper with Piers Bates who was clearly taking this scenario and running with it.
As Henry and Jade walked on, their heads bowed together in intense gossipy conversation, Julia stepped back.
She slowly removed her arm from Piers’ and resisted the overwhelming urge to wipe her mouth. ‘Shall we get this valuation done then?’
Piers walked along beside her, a discernible spring in his step. ‘Now when you say valuation, do you mean valuation, or is that just a clever ploy to get me into your bedroom?’
Julia shuddered slightly. ‘Let’s stick with the numbers, Piers. I think that will be disappointing enough for one day, don’t you?’
When Julia stepped into the deli half an hour later, Jade was gone and Henry was sipping at an espresso, the tiny cup incongruous in his large hands.
‘I’m glad you came,’ he said smoothly, signalling to the waitress for another for his guest. There was no sign of Hattie or Lance and for that, Julia was grateful.
‘I wasn’t sure I had a choice,’ replied Julia coldly. The valuation on her house had not gone well.
She knew that there were people in Larkford who considered her and Henry Bruce to be cut from the same cloth. But just because they both took care of their appearance and didn’t gush endlessly at the sight of a baby or a puppy, that did not make them soulmates.
She thought of his sweet wife, Tina, and wondered how he had the nerve to brazenly flaunt his affair around the town.
‘So?’ she prompted, eager to get this over with.
‘Slow down, Julia,’ he drawled. ‘These things cannot be rushed. You and I need to talk.’
‘I cannot think of anything we have in common to talk about.’
‘Really? Nothing?’ A small burst of spittle bloomed on his lip and Julia had to look away.
She looked back pretty quickly though, as his hand fastened on her arm.
‘My enemy’s enemy is my friend,’ he said. ‘Have you heard that expression?’
Julia said nothing.
‘I just think that we should get our heads together, Julia. I can make you a very wealthy young lady – and goodness knows, it can’t be cheap having mummy-dearest in and out of rehab. Not to mention that, if I were an aspiring Senior Partner, and I had just discovered that my house was worth tuppence ha’penny, and I had no money to buy in, I might not be quite so quick to rebuff the hand of friendship.’
Julia could feel the blood rush to her face. Who the hell did he think he was?
‘Come on, Julia, stop being stubborn. Throw your support behind me and we can get Dan Carter out of the picture. Wouldn’t that be satisfying, hmm? Can’t be easy seeing him every day. So this would be a win all round. You do your TV show and work with me as your Senior Partner and I’ll cut you in.’ He leaned in close, his breath sickly sour from the espresso. ‘There are so many opportunities here, Julia, and I hold the key to all of them.’
He waved for the bill and peeled several twenty-pound notes out of a silver money clip, tossing them on the table carelessly. ‘Think about it, Julia. You can’t buy in. It’s me or Dan. Your romantic past or your financial future. It really should be an easy decision.’
Chapter 26
‘So,’ said Maggie the pharmacist, carefully wiping a section of the front desk, before perching on it daintily, ‘what did you think of the Spring Swim then, Dr Graham?’
Holly couldn’t help but smile. She’d downloaded some of the photos from the weekend onto her laptop last night and couldn’t remember the boys both looking so happy. At the same time, that is. The coincidence of good moods had been running rather short of late. In fact, Holly’s hard drive was crammed with photos of the twins, in which one would be happily smiling and the other grizzling miserably. It probably didn’t need pointing out that the worst of the grizzlers was always Ben. But, to give Tom his dues, should the moon and tides align for Ben to be having a good day, Sod’s Law would dictate that Tom would, of course, give in to the dreaded sulks.
Holly had been somewhat blindsided though, when the picture of Taffy and the three of them had opened on her screen. It was easily the best photograph of Holly and the boys that had ever been taken. All eyes open, everyone smiling, everyone looking relaxed and easy, cheeks flushed pink from the cold. And as for Holly herself? Well, if pressed to put aside her modesty, even Holly could see that she looked gorgeous in that picture – healthy, glowing and positively radiant. The conundrum, of course, lay in the fact that she could hardly print it out and pop it by her bed, or even save it as her screensaver. The twins’ sparkling, excited smiles would have to be saved in a folder for clandestine viewing.
Holly was
n’t stupid, though. She knew that if it had been anyone else from The Practice in that photo, it would already be in a frame on the sideboard.
Keeping it quiet, not showing Milo – that spoke volumes. In fact, Holly rather wished that the photo had come with its own volume knob. She could hardly hear herself think this morning for the cacophony in her head, the tattoo of Taffy, Taffy, Taffy beating in time with her pulse.
She’d been forced to revert to her tried and tested routine of denial and activity. Hence the coffee break with the girls at the front desk (distraction), rather than in the doctors’ lounge with certain other doctors (denial). ‘See,’ she told herself. ‘You’ve got this handled.’
Maggie chattered on about previous years; heat-waves and floods, flu outbreaks and dramas notwithstanding. ‘Even me, Holly – and there’s no need to look so shocked – I’m in that river once a year like clockwork. Of course,’ she lowered her voice conspiratorially, ‘I do send in a river sample to the Environment Agency every February. Three-week turn around, terribly efficient they are. And you’ll be pleased to know that the water’s top notch.’
Holly grinned. ‘You really do think of everything, Maggie. I shall have to remember to come and get the update next year, before we all take the plunge.’
Maggie shrugged. ‘It’s just common sense really. Survival of the fittest, you know. Not that I need to tell you that – excellent skills there, Holly, getting Taffy to help out with the twins. Water safety ratios and all that.’
Holly could feel her face colouring and was forced to feign a cough.
Maggie’s eyebrows rose, as she clearly didn’t miss a trick. ‘There’s some lovely piccies of the day up on the town website. Quite a good one of you and the boys, I think.’ said Maggie carefully, clearly fishing.
‘I must have a look at those when I get chance,’ replied Holly, keeping her tone as even as she could. She really didn’t need Maggie to know that that image and the way it made her feel had already kept her awake all night. Just thinking about lost sleep made Holly yawn widely. ‘Sorry,’ she mumbled, ‘bit tired.’
‘Me too. In fact, I nearly didn’t come into work this morning,’ Maggie confided to Holly. Lucy swivelled round on her chair, as the ringing phones gradually calmed to a more manageable level, and Maggie squirted another blob of hand sanitiser into her palm and began to massage it in. ‘I don’t know what possessed me, but I stayed up late and watched that Contagion movie on DVD. I kind of over-looked the whole viral-epidemic storyline.’
Lucy shook her head, laughing, ‘Oh Maggie! What were you thinking, you muppet, watching that? You know what you’re like. Grace’ll wet herself when you tell her.’
Maggie pulled a face. ‘But it had Matt Damon and Jude Law in it. What was I supposed to do?’
‘Well, when you put it like that, I can see that you had no choice really,’ said Holly.
Lucy wandered over to the printer and collected all the referral letters she’d been typing up between phone calls. ‘Well, if you’re going for immersion therapy, you should watch Outbreak next, Maggie. It hasn’t got Matt Damon, admittedly. But the little monkey is seriously cute.’
‘Would that be the same monkey that spreads the flesh-eating virus then, Lucy?’ Holly laughed, delighted with the change of topic.
‘Well, obviously she’ll have to overlook that bit. Aw, but he’s got little fluffy cheeks, and these tiny little hands and . . .’
‘And a nasty case of Ebola?’ said Maggie drily, causing Holly to accidentally snort instead of laughing and reducing Lucy to a giggling heap.
The bell on the front door jangled and Mr Hampton shuffled over to the reception desk. ‘I’b gob an aboointbent bith Dr Badding,’ he spluttered through his handkerchief.
‘An appointment with Dr Channing you say?’ replied Lucy cheerfully, trying to keep a straight face. She was well versed in translating those patients with a bunged up nose. ‘Take a seat in the waiting room, Mr Hampton. She’ll be right with you.’
Mr Hampton nodded miserably and headed for the doorway. He stopped and took a deep breath, his face contorting as he tried to fight the overwhelming urge.
‘Maggie, look out! We’ve got a sneezer!’ whispered Lucy gleefully, watching the stricken expression on Maggie’s face as she hurried from the room once poor Mr Hampton began exploding. It was just as well all the staff got their flu jab every year, as it sometimes felt like they were working in a Petri dish of all the regional lurgies.
Holly heard the squirt of the Dettox spray as Maggie once again set to work, trying to keep her world both germ-free and shiny white. Maggie was such a card – who in their right mind would choose to work in a doctors’ surgery if they were phobic about germs to that degree? Maggie had been put off her food for days when Taffy had introduced her to the concept of his five-second-rule. It was basically his firm belief that, if you drop your food and it was on the floor for less than five seconds, it’s technically declared safe to eat. Holly noticed that Maggie hadn’t been very enthusiastic about his regular offers of fancy biscuits ever since, although Holly couldn’t claim any such reservations with eating his orange Clubs whenever they were offered . . .
Dear God, she thought, I’m eighteen again! Just thinking back to the hormonal tumult of emotions that had characterised almost every year of university – the epic crushes, the unendurable heartbreak, until the next object of desire hove into view . . . Holly gave herself a little shake. ‘I am a married mother of two. Get with it, Graham. One nice photo does not fill a photo album,’ she muttered under her breath as she waved goodbye to the fun in the office and went to collect her first patient of the day – nothing like a seeping boil to keep any sexual urges in check.
Maggie fell into step beside her. ‘It’s so lovely having some fresh life in the place, you know, Holly. We all spend so much time here, we get a bit like family sometimes, you know, a bit sibling-y and bicker-y.’
Holly smiled. ‘I do love it here, Maggie. And it already feels like home. And as for you lot bickering – I don’t buy it. If someone annoys you, don’t you just have a little grump behind their back and be done with it?’
Maggie looked shocked at the very suggestion. ‘Ooh no, not behind their back. This isn’t a City practice. If someone’s bitching about you here, Holly, they’ll do it to your face.’
‘I’m not necessarily sure that’s better. Is it?’
Maggie shrugged. ‘At least you know what you’re up against. Well,’ she continued darkly, ‘with most folk. The jury’s still out on Henry and Julia.’
Holly wasn’t entirely sure whether a laugh was expected at this point. Maggie’s words had a ring of truth about them that negated any humour.
But Maggie wasn’t finished yet, delighted to have a willing listener and keen to know everything, she cast another fly across the water. ‘Of course, seeing young Taffy being such a sweetheart with your beautiful boys at the weekend . . . well, let’s just say he won’t be short of offers now, will he? Always lovely to see a bloke that’s happy to muck in and help with the kids. I dare say he owes you a thank you. With PR like that, I imagine the Taffy Jones fan club will have gained a few more members . . .’
Holly swallowed hard, completely winded. She reached for a response but nothing was there. Her face drained of colour and a hard tight feeling settled in her chest. Who was she kidding? The very photo that had haunted her dreams and thrown her emotions into turmoil, would be the photo that secured young, fit and single Dr Jones his next hot date . . . Holly felt the pressure of Maggie’s hand on her shoulder.
‘Just as I thought,’ said Maggie gently. ‘I’m not trying to interfere, my love. But sometimes forewarned is forearmed, isn’t it? Like I said, if I’ve something to say, I’ll say it to your face. And a lovely lass like you, with those two lovely boys? Just be careful, won’t you?’ Maggie gave her shoulder another squeeze and disappeared into her domain of stacked prescriptions and sanitisers.
Holly slid down onto one of the ch
airs lined up outside.
She felt extremely foolish and suddenly old beyond her years. ‘Grow up, Graham,’ she muttered. ‘What did you think was going to happen, hmm?’
Chapter 27
Holly scrubbed her hands rigorously. Despite having worn the requisite latex gloves, she couldn’t quite shake the feeling that her hands would never be clean again. It was ages since she’d seen a good old-fashioned case of pubic lice, which was just as well really because things that scuttled and crawled were Holly’s bête noire. Even as a doctor, she’d practically thrown up the first time one of the twins had come home from nursery with ‘little visitors’, as the accompanying note had so delicately phrased it.
In fact, Holly only had to think about the little cretins scuttling through her boy’s sandy locks and she wanted to throw up. How she’d endured the last consultation without heaving was a wonder in itself.
More to the point though, why was she having to lecture an upstanding lady in her fifties about casual sex and multiple partners? Had the world gone bonkers?
She also knew that, according to the latest medical journals, pubic lice were no longer a huge problem among the younger, more sexually active generation, because all the girls had grown up watching Samantha on Sex in the City and had waxed themselves into pre-pubescent smoothness.
Putting aside her concerns about the kind of guys that found it a turn-on to be shagging someone with Barbie’s genitalia, Holly couldn’t help but worry. If Cynthia Jameson was still putting it about in her fifties, having been unceremoniously dumped by her husband of thirty years, was that what they all had to look forward to? Rather than spending their twilight years in the bosom of their families, were they all destined to be hitting the Viagra and shagging their way around the Bridge Club?
Holly shuddered. She wasn’t sure what felt worse – the idea of four more decades being patronised by Milo, or the unrecognisable landscape of modern dating.
