by Penny Parkes
‘Yes, well, now you do,’ said Elsie, neatly cutting off the conversation at the knees. ‘And you can forget all of that until I’m dead and then you can all have a good read through my diaries and write yourselves a bestseller – how’s that?’ She smiled again. ‘But you’ll have to wait a little longer for that and you can only use the really naughty stuff once I’m six feet under.
‘Anyway,’ said Elsie. ‘Don’t mind me, I’m having a little maudlin day, that’s all. All this community spirit is exhausting, don’t you think? And we’ve had enough confidences for one evening, so I’ll be off to bed now. But before I do, let’s have a little toast.
‘To new friends and new beginnings,’ Elsie said, raising her glass pointedly at Holly. ‘And to never being afraid of starting over.’
With extravagant hugs and kisses and pages of notes for the concert shuffled into her handbag, Holly leaned in to kiss Elsie goodnight at the door.
Elsie looped the treasured Missoni scarf from Holly’s last visit around her neck. ‘This is yours now. A little bit of Elsie to keep you on the ball.’
‘Oh, Elsie, I couldn’t possibly . . .’
‘I shall be terribly offended if you don’t wear it,’ Elsie said sternly. ‘I can’t always be there to hold your hand and guide you in the right direction. I want you to learn to trust your instincts, Holly. Just think of this scarf as a little bit of faith to help you on your way, okay?’
‘Okay,’ nodded Holly, touched beyond measure.
Elsie smiled at her and patted her cheek. ‘Now, listen to me, Holly Graham. You don’t get married four times without learning a little something about marriage. And rather a lot about divorce too, as it happens.’ She sighed deeply, her face flickering with emotions as she tried to piece together what she wanted to share. ‘You know how books and movies always end when they’ve just got together? Well, there’s a perfectly good reason for that. It’s because a week later he’s picking his nose in front of the TV and they’re fighting over the washing up. Real life isn’t like a movie, my darling girl – and I should know. But that doesn’t mean you have to settle for second best. At home or at work.’
Holly kissed Elsie’s powdered cheek affectionately. ‘Shall I add that to my list of Life Lessons?’
‘It wouldn’t be the worst idea,’ Elsie said, as she quietly closed the door.
Chapter 34
Dan slammed the phone down on his cousin in disgust. Okay, so Lizzie was still angry with him for taking Holly’s side, but enough was enough. Why couldn’t Lizzie ’fess up that she’d got this one wrong and apologise. Yeah, he thought to himself, and hell might freeze over. But, even if she couldn’t bring herself to apologise, was it really too much to expect his own cousin to be a little bit helpful and supportive with the campaign to Save The Practice?
Putting aside family loyalties for a moment, as Lizzie obviously believed he’d already abandoned his – could she not see that, as a resident herself, the health of her children could be directly compromised? It was sheer, stubborn pride that was stopping Lizzie from stepping up.
He toyed with the idea of going over her head – she may be the Editor of Larkford Life, but he was pretty sure her publisher wouldn’t be too impressed at this missed opportunity to support the community and sell some extra copies in the process.
Shit.
When did life get so complicated?
Dan rubbed his fingers methodically over the smooth pebble he used for his mindfulness exercises, trying to stay in the moment. He’d been feeling so much better, so much more like himself, since he’d been to Hereford. Chris’ advice had been spot on. Dan had somehow forgotten that PTSD never really went away; one just had to manage the symptoms.
Well, he hadn’t been managing himself very well, had he? Too many late nights, too much stress and no time at all for himself. More importantly, Dan had been gradually cutting back on his mindfulness programme to the point where the skills hadn’t been there, at his fingertips, when he needed them.
Now, back on Chris’ programme, and even with the chaos around him, the flashbacks were fewer and more fleeting and he’d actually been getting some sleep.
Obviously not last night though, since his 3 a.m. emergency call out had been a complete waste of time. He’d been met by a houseful of sheepish, slightly tipsy students. Clearly one clever dick had thought it tremendously funny to serve his housemates a high-end cat food as pâté. His idea of a practical joke had all the girls spewing copiously, but there was no evidence of food poisoning as the phone call had suggested. Dan had diagnosed psychosomatic hysterical vomiting and given them all a bit of a lecture. To be fair, the ingredients in the swanky brand he’d used, were probably better quality than the horse-burgers sold in the local discount store, but still . . . 3 a.m.?
Quietly driving home through the darkness of the valley, Dan had half wondered whether Taffy might fall for the same trick. He was well overdue on the retaliation front. He’d ditched the idea fairly quickly – he’d seen Taffy willingly eat far worse things than cat food over the years.
Seeing the town laid out before him and thinking about his best friend made Dan all the more determined to step up the campaign. He’d made a mental list as he drove along of phone calls to make and favours to call in. Truth be told, he was a little aggrieved that it was Holly who had come up with the PR angle. He’d been stuck in a bureaucratic loop of red tape himself and had been close to admitting defeat.
But he hated doctors like Henry Bruce – the smarmy bastard – and his world of cronies and freebies and pharmaceutical incentive schemes. It would be a very happy by-product if he could ruin Henry Bruce into the bargain.
Now, though, he needed to focus. It hadn’t occurred to him for a moment that Lizzie wouldn’t leap into the fray. He’d been hoping to get her on board with a special edition of Larkford Life – a short notice print run to rally support. He really couldn’t comprehend that, in reality, she’d just given him gip and then offered precisely nothing.
There was a knock at the door, breaking in to his reverie, and Taffy poked his head into the consulting room. ‘Mate? Have you got a mo?’
‘Sure,’ said Dan, pushing back his chair and stretching out the stiffness in his back. Joining the Larkford Harriers had probably been a big mistake, but Chris had pushed for him to do more regular exercise and there was always the chance he’d get to bump into Lindy again and she might be persuaded to change her mind. Either way, he was stiff as a board this morning and any Taffy-style distraction was extremely welcome.
‘Firstly,’ said Taffy, plonking a large glass vase on Dan’s desk, ‘I offer you a challenge – I’m calling it First To Frog. So, here’s your frog spawn, I have mine – we just need to decide on a wager.’
Dan shook his head. ‘You really do have too much time on your hands, Taff.’
Taffy shrugged. ‘Couldn’t sleep, so I went for a jog along the river and there it was, calling to me. We can’t all be Harriers, honey. Anyway, I’m in need of distraction, so what do you say? Any methods acceptable. No replacement spawn. First to a proper Kermit wins . . . ?’
Dan grinned, struck by inspiration. ‘If I win, you’ll stop taking the piss out of Triathlons and, if you win . . . That’s tricky. Hmm, maybe I’ll put in a good word with Holly for you. Tell her your reputation as a gigolo is only because you haven’t met the right girl yet?’
Taffy coloured. ‘That’s too rich for my blood. I’ve been saving up triathlon jokes all week. Shall we go for the standard car wash and vac? Besides,’ he said, not looking Dan in the eye, ‘I think I’m holding my own on the Holly front. And I’ve made moves to improve my chances.’ He rolled up his sleeve to show Dan two nicotine patches.
‘I don’t want her to think I’m a smoker, do I? Not with the boys about. And, I mean, it’s quite nice not lurking outside by the bins like a social leper and there’s obviously the whole cancer thing.’
Dan grinned, shocked and impressed in equal measure by his friend�
�s cavalier attitude to his health. ‘Erm, aren’t those big patches the One-a-day ones, though, Taff?’
Taffy shrugged. ‘Thought I’d try the low dose ones first. I just stick one on whenever I get stressed, or fancy a cigarette, but to be honest, I’m not really sure they’re working properly. I just feel all dizzy and nauseous.’
‘Well, did you actually read the packet? There’s a maximum daily dosage of 21mg, you prat!’
Taffy looked sheepish for a moment before slowly unbuttoning his shirt. ‘Then the two on my chest were probably a bad idea too, then?’
‘Jesus! What have you done to yourself?’ Dan shook his head in disbelief. ‘Well, I’ll say this for you, Taffs, it’s all or nothing with you.’ Dan leaned forward and caught hold of the corner of one patch and dispatched it with a quick flick of the wrist.
Taffy’s eyes watered as he took a substantial amount of chest hair away too. ‘Fucking hell, Dan!’
Dan laughed like a drain, methodically stripping Taffy of every patch and handing him a large glass of water. ‘Keep hydrated. One patch at a time. If you feel really unwell, you’ll have to tell me. I can look it up in The Big Book of Overdoses.’
Taffy looked down at the two bald squares on his chest and the two on his arm. ‘I’m not convinced that giving up smoking won’t be the death of me at this rate.’
Dan was still laughing to himself. ‘Well, it should certainly test your commitment to the Steal-Holly-Away-From-Her-Husband plan, shouldn’t it?’
‘How did she get lumbered with that prat anyway?’
‘Er, because she loves him? Because they have children together?’
‘Well, yeah, at the time . . . But I think I’m in way over my head. Do you know I turned down a shag with Denise O’Sullivan at the weekend! I mean, where will this end? Even married to that stuffed shirt, she’s probably getting more action than I am and I can’t think about anyone else but her.’
‘Oh,’ said Dan quietly, a little blown away by his friend’s confession. So much for hoping for the crush to pass then. ‘You have to let this one go, mate. Focus on your frog, focus on your training, focus on the Campaign,’ he suggested.
‘Holly’s campaign, you mean,’ said Taffy darkly, looking up at Dan with tormented eyes. ‘This is what happens when you let your head get involved, Carter. I’ve been so busy warning you off, that I just didn’t see it coming myself.’ He blew out his cheeks. ‘Right then, I’m off to check on a dodgy prostate. Good luck with Kermit – my car is a cesspit!’
Dan sat back in his chair and yawned. ‘You could try joining one of those addiction support groups? You might meet someone pretty while you’re there.’
Taffy checked his watch again and leaned against the door and shrugged. ‘I’m not sure that’s for me, mate. Hanging around with a bunch of quitters.’
By the time his afternoon clinic started, Dan had spoken to three different newspaper journalists, sticking religiously to the script that Grace and Holly had drafted. He’d also given a radio interview that had gone reasonably well until the radio presenter had asked for his opinion of how the whole debacle had occurred. Dan wasn’t entirely up to date on the slander laws in the UK, but he was now quietly hoping that Henry Bruce wasn’t either. Maybe it would be a good idea to look them up, he decided. With emotions running so high, there was every chance it would happen again.
He walked through to the waiting room to collect his next patient. ‘Mr Payne?’ he called.
Even as the guy stood up out of his chair and walked towards him, Dan struggled to place him. The trendy media specs and scarf reminded him of someone, but he couldn’t work out who.
They both sat down, door closed. ‘What can I do for you, Mr Payne? I believe you’re a new patient?’ He flicked through the file and caught sight of the name and address, Milo Payne. The surprise must have been evident on his face.
‘So,’ said Milo, ‘you’ve worked out who I am, then.’
There was no question he was an attractive, well put-together guy. He seemed a little up himself, thought Dan, but then, he assumed that most academics worked on a different level to mere civilians. ‘Great to finally meet you, Milo. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you how much we love having Holly here.’
‘I’m sure you don’t and that’s why I’ve come actually.’ He leaned forward in his seat, looking about as threatening as it was possible for a man in Penny Loafers to look. ‘I know all about you tricking her into this job with empty promises and I know all about how she’s the one rallying round to save this poxy setup. But I know blokes like you, Dan Carter. You’ll chew up my naïve little wife and spit her out. Be kind to her, at least. She has no idea how the real world works and I quite like her that way. So, man to man, I’m asking you – let her go now and we can move on.’
‘I . . .’ began Dan, finding himself speechless.
‘And I know that you two have a whole flirty thing going on. Dan this, Dan that . . . It’s all I get at home. So maybe, while you’re letting her go, you could remember that she has a husband and two children. Not really cricket, is it, Dr Carter?’
Dan blinked hard. ‘Milo, I’m not sure what Holly’s told you, but I can assure you that there’s absolutely nothing going on between us – flirty or otherwise. And Holly’s involvement in the campaign is wonderful and entirely of her own volition. She’s a valued and respected member of the team. As for who’s keeping their job? Well, I’m sure you can imagine that this is a difficult time for everyone. Decisions will have to be made when the time comes.’ He steepled his fingers and held Milo’s gaze. ‘I rather think that this is something for you to discuss with your wife.’
Milo seemed a little deflated. He’d obviously geared himself up for some verbal sparring and Dan’s calm and matter-of-fact response had clearly thrown him.
‘Now, if there’s nothing else?’ Dan said, getting to his feet, furious beyond measure at the snide and disrespectful way that Milo spoke about Holly.
Milo fidgeted in his chair, small without his bluster to inflate him. ‘Well, actually, Doc, since I’m here . . . I’ve got a really bad case of athlete’s foot . . .’
Dan took a calming breath, trying to remain professional. All he really wanted to do, was to pop next door and tell Taffy it was game on. Whatever he’d previously thought about Taffy putting the moves on a married colleague? Well, that was water under the bridge now he’d met the smug, patronising git in person.
He pulled some latex gloves from the box on his desk. ‘We’d better take a look. And then, maybe we should give you your Well Man check, since you’re hitting middle age and we have plenty of time.’
If Milo had winced at the ‘middle age’ comment, it was nothing to how he reacted when Dan snapped the gloves on to his hands with a theatrical flourish.
‘Now, Milo, tell me: have you ever had your prostate checked?’
Dan was feeling a little ashamed of himself by the time he met up with Taffy in the doctors’ lounge at the end of the day. Taffy and Grace were munching their way through a packet of Jaffa Cakes, trying to see how many they could fit in their mouths at once.
‘Look,’ said Grace gleefully. ‘Full moon,’ she took a bite. ‘Half moon,’ she took another. ‘Total eclipse!’ she said, shoving the last of the Jaffa cake in and spraying crumbs everywhere. She swallowed hard, making her eyes water, and looked disappointed at Dan’s lack of response. ‘Taffy taught me,’ she explained.
Dan just shook his head. ‘Did you never see the ad, then, Grace?’ She looked blank. ‘Blimey, you’ll be saying that you missed “you’ve been Tango-ed” next!’
Taffy obligingly stepped forward, arms outstretched to smack Dan’s ears, but Dan batted him away. ‘Geroff, you muppet,’ he said impatiently. ‘Do you want to go over this campaign stuff here or at the pub?’
‘If you do it here, I could help,’ volunteered Grace. ‘I needed to talk to you about that anyway.’
She settled on the arm of the sofa nervously. ‘I do realise
it’s not my department, but I wondered if you wanted me to set up a campaign website. We could include all the profiles and have a page for people to pledge their support. We could put links to it in all the press interviews too. What do you think?’
Dan wanted to do a double-take. What was it with people catching him on the hop today? Was nobody going to behave true to form? Was this really sweet, twin-set-and-pearls Grace talking? ‘Do you know how to do all that?’ he asked.
‘I’ll just use an html template and hyperlinks and we can update daily progress, take donations and sell concert tickets too. I can use SSL to . . . Dan?’
Dan stopped suddenly, aware that he had been shaking his head in bemusement and seeing Grace’s crestfallen expression, he quickly leapt to put her straight, ‘Grace, it sounds amazing! It would be perfect actually. I’m sorry I looked so blank just then – you took me by surprise with all the techno talk.’
She blushed to the roots of her immaculate bob. ‘It’s no problem and I’d love to give it a go. I’ve been taking an online learning course,’ she confided.
Dan pulled her into a hug without thinking. ‘Where would we be without you, Gracie?’
She smiled, clearly delighted. ‘I’ll get started then.’
Dan breathed a sigh of relief, the Lizzie-shaped knot of tension in his chest slowly relaxing. ‘Just as well you’re a computer nerd really, Grace. Couldn’t get Lizzie to do that Larkford Life spread we talked about.’
Grace just shrugged. ‘Well, this is probably better anyway. More interactive, easier to update in real time. Print media’s terribly old hat these days, you know!’ She flashed him a smile and gathered up her kit. ‘I’ll go home and crack on.’
She bustled out of the doorway and Dan decided that he must stop making assumptions about people. Grace was a woman of many resources – but he was ashamed to admit that he tended to judge her on the fact that her husband had a fondness for the cider, her teenaged sons had a fondness for the sofa, and all three had a strong aversion to a decent day’s work. But that certainly didn’t mean that Grace wasn’t fully motivated and up to speed. Truth be told, it probably explained why she put in longer hours at The Practice than anyone else and made the team feel like her surrogate family.
