by Penny Parkes
One thing she did know, was that Milo adored the attention of all the passing ladies, so thrilled and impressed to see a good-looking, if slightly intellectual bloke, who still seemed to know his way around an engine. Holly was convinced that if one more female told her she was lucky, she would scream.
Truth be told, she wished he’d sell the bloody thing and buy something modern and reliable. A little something with a nod to style and nostalgia, sure, but with the added incentive that it actually worked! You know, as a means of transportation.
‘Right,’ Milo said, as he slipped into the driver’s seat. ‘I think we’re good to go.’ He turned the key in the ignition and the engine grumbled resentfully into life. He lightly revved the accelerator and squeezed Holly’s knee without once taking his eye off the dials on the dash. ‘All sorted?’
‘All sorted,’ Holly replied, well versed in Milo-Shorthand for ‘Have you sorted out the boys? Have you filled the fridge with food? Does Mum know where to reach us? Have you packed for you? Have you packed for me? Oh, and have you brought something slinky to wear for tonight?’
Holly slid down in her seat a little and smothered a yawn. She was absolutely exhausted. Maybe Milo was right and all she needed was a night away to recharge. Even if getting ready for said night away had drained the very last of her energy, she hoped there would be time to regroup. She was longing for an undisturbed swim in a pool without floating dragons and a night in a big comfy bed with a duvet the size of Gloucestershire.
Perhaps, if she was very lucky, she’d wake up without a tiny toe stuffed up her nostril! It would probably be nice to have an evening with Milo away from his computer too, she mentally added guiltily, but if she was honest, that wasn’t the main appeal.
As the Saab rumbled through the Market Place, Holly kept her eyes closed. She didn’t want to tempt fate by seeing anyone who might need her.
While Milo coaxed the Saab up and down the gear box, winding their way through the hills towards Bath, Holly watched his profile. He was concentrating on the rev counter and seemed in a world of his own. His voice made her jump when he suddenly spoke.
‘I’m so glad we’re doing this tonight, Holly. It’s what we need – a little time together to reconnect.’ He changed gear again. ‘I just worry, you know, that this new job of yours . . . Well, I just worry that they don’t appreciate you. You work so hard and you’re so good at your job, but I’m not convinced they recognise that.
‘You know I appreciate you, Holly, don’t you? I don’t say it enough, but I do. And if you need to walk away from The Practice, I support that decision. I believe in you. I believe in us.’
Holly didn’t know what to say. Milo’s speech sounded rehearsed, the compliments were nice to hear, but rang utterly false. The cynical voice in Holly’s mind went one step further – surely that speech was straight out of Passive Aggressive Behaviour For Beginners?
Six months ago, she knew that this conversation would have been music to her ears. Her self-esteem had been so wounded and fragile, she would have pathetically seized upon those compliments and hung on his every word. Now, though, her rose-coloured glasses well and truly smashed, she could listen with a certain detachment and scepticism.
‘I just think,’ Milo continued, apparently unconcerned by her lack of response, ‘that people like Dan Carter are happy for everyone else to do their leg work, while they take all the glory. I’m worried that he’s playing you for a fool and taking advantage of your sweet nature, Holly.’
‘Dan’s one of the good guys, Milo,’ Holly said abruptly.
Milo looked at her sharply. ‘Well, I’m just looking out for you, Holly. He’s a smooth operator that one. Lucky you’ve got me to bring some objectivity. Seems to me that you’re too close to the situation.’ He sniffed. ‘I rather suspect you’ve lost all perspective.’
‘You’re probably right,’ she replied quietly, not bothering to point out that they were talking at crossed purposes. Perspective was yet another thing she was sorely lacking.
An hour later, as the door of their hotel room swung closed, Holly knew she was being ungracious and ungrateful, but somehow she couldn’t quite contain it. She watched the red flush climb up Milo’s neck, a sure enough sign of his rising temper, but somehow, she had lost the ability to edit her thoughts. She slumped into the sumptuous sofa of the hotel suite – suite! – and held her head in her hands.
‘How. Dare. You?’ said Milo, each word creating its own little ripple of distaste. ‘I have never been so embarrassed in all my life!’
‘Haven’t you?’ replied Holly coolly, looking up. ‘Would you rather I’d waited until we were checking out, to let on that we couldn’t actually afford to pay the bill?’
She swallowed hard, furious at her husband for putting her in this position and trying valiantly to be tactful. ‘I understand what you were trying to do, Milo, I really do. And who wouldn’t want to be whisked away to a five-star hotel for the night? Who wouldn’t want to stay in the Honeymoon suite and have the Michelin-starred menu? But seriously, have you never looked at one of our bank statements? The package you booked cost more than our rent!’
Milo set his chin into that stubborn expression that made Holly want to punch him. ‘So what if I want to spoil my wife? Everyone keeps telling me what a saint you are. God knows, it’s hard enough to earn your attention these days. And yes, I saw that photo of you, all cozied up at the Spring Swim. I saw it, Holly. You and our boys with that arrogant Welsh git . . . Wasn’t flirting with Dan enough for you? You have no idea how you’ve made me feel. Why do you think I organised this, hmm? Obviously big, romantic gestures are wasted on you. Can’t I do anything nice to please you any more, Holly?’
Holly took a deep breath and tried to order her thoughts, deliberately pushing away any stray recollections of the Spring Swim and that photo. She knew she should be concentrating on Milo and his heartfelt appeal. Should. Easier said than done. Milo’s hurtful barbs barely glanced off her, compared to the pain of losing Taffy. She forced herself to focus. That was what this night away was all about wasn’t it, focusing on her family and her future with Milo?
Okay, so, she floundered around, looking for the positives: Milo had been trying to do something nice for her, she thought guiltily, possibly even trying to win her back.
But he was doing it with the money she was earning, the little voice in her head whispered. The money they needed to make ends meet. And there certainly wasn’t enough left over for this kind of decadence.
Would it be different if it was his money?
Maybe, she conceded.
But actually, they had two small children and the idea of blowing four figures – she swallowed hard as the bile rose in her throat – on ONE NIGHT AWAY??? It was insane.
‘Listen,’ she said tightly, refusing to be provoked about anything other than the issue at hand, ‘you can be angry that I picked up the tariff sheet when we were checking in, or you can be relieved that I caught it in time. And to be fair, I think the manager was pretty calm about the whole thing, don’t you? I mean, we’d already lost the deposit and he didn’t have any other rooms. He could have just sent us home, you know.
‘Personally, Milo, I think it’s pretty cool that he let us keep this one – and for the price of the basic double. So we skip dinner and breakfast? It won’t kill us – we can have a carpet picnic with this lot – look . . .’ Holly waved her hand at the complimentary goodie basket of fruit and wine and petit fours. ‘You wanted to spend time together. Well, here we are. We can still have a swim and the massagey things are already paid for . . .’
Holly petered out, exhausted, angry and feeling cheated. A night away. A night in a pub, in a little boutique hotel? Why did everything with Milo have to be such a struggle? He said he was doing it for her. But no. She couldn’t believe that any more.
Milo just seemed to think that the world owed him the very best.
Even with no income to speak of, he would still wander around the de
li in Larkford, spending fifteen quid on smoked cheese, while she was using up coupons to save the odd fifty pence in the supermarket. Did he think money grew on trees?
Holly was bored to tears with being the bad guy, endlessly talking about cutting their cloth according to their means. She knew that Milo struggled with the concept of sticking to a budget, but this was the clearest sign yet that he simply didn’t have a clue.
She tried to tune back in as Milo ranted on about how humiliated he felt, but half of Holly’s brain had already logged out. She was using all her restraint not to bite back. How could he not see that they had actually dodged a bullet? She idly wondered just how much washing up they would make you do in a place like this if you couldn’t pay your bill? Or would they have just called the police? Ice prickled her skin at the very thought.
‘Milo, stop! Just stop. Stop ranting on as if this whole fiasco is my fault and take a breath.’
To his credit, Milo did just that, but his chin remained firmly jutting out. ‘What do you suggest then, since you clearly know everything?’
Holly sighed, cursing Jean for suggesting the idea of a night away and cursing herself for going along with it. She looked at her watch. The boys would be in their pyjamas by now, freshly warm and scrumptious from their baths.
She shrugged. ‘Well, I’m going to phone home and say goodnight to the boys. Then I’m going to have that massage, because my neck is killing me. Then I’m coming back here for a glass of wine.’ She paused for a moment, collecting herself, kneading the tension along the tops of her shoulders. ‘You could join in? This could still be lovely, you know. You just have to make the decision to enjoy it.’
Holly was trying very hard to take her own advice. After all, hadn’t she made the decision to come, to try and reconnect with Milo? But, try as she might, she couldn’t seem to engage. She knew that she was probably over-reacting to this suite, knew that she was behaving badly. She just couldn’t seem to control herself.
It seemed as though Elsie’s pep talks had re-ignited the feisty, outspoken side of her brain that was now refusing to go politely back to sleep.
Okay, so the timing was lousy. Her mind was back in Larkford, thinking about the boys, thinking about rehearsals, thinking about Taffy.
But it was just one night. Milo had a point: if she couldn’t even give him one night of her undivided attention . . .
Holly sighed, hating herself for being like this. Even here, in this wonderful suite, her mind was elsewhere.
Holly unearthed her phone from her handbag to call home, noticing the battery was running low and reminding herself to charge it and felt the waves of guilt wash over her.
‘For what it’s worth, I am truly sorry that your lovely romantic plan didn’t work out and we could argue all night about why, but it won’t change anything tonight. Come on, what do you think?’
He looked at her mulishly. ‘Whatever. At least we’re here: I was half expecting you to cancel. After all, you’re the boss,’ he said with feeling.
Holly looked around the stunning suite, at the heavy drapes of brocade curtains, the sumptuous quilts on the enormous bed and the huge sash windows with their priceless view over Bath. If they couldn’t be happy together here, perhaps they couldn’t be happy together anywhere? She reached out, on autopilot really, stroking Milo’s arm. She was tired, just too damn tired, to be having this conversation again.
She wanted to tell him to swallow his pride and get a job, any job really, while he was writing his book. She didn’t want him to stop writing – she certainly wasn’t going to be the one to crush his dream – but they needed two incomes, even supposing she could persuade him to curb his spending.
She looked at his defiant expression as he stared out at the view. So used to being the golden boy, he was rather shattered by the notion that life didn’t arrive on a silver platter, just because you felt you deserved it.
She took his hand. ‘Come on, Milo,’ she said gently. ‘Let’s go and be pampered for a bit. What kind of massage was it you booked?’
He finally stood up, still exuding negativity. ‘It’s not so much a massage as a detox package. I thought it might do you good. It’s a wrap, I think?’
Holly’s heart sank a little further into her boots. ‘How lovely,’ she managed through clenched teeth, as she tugged her swimsuit out of her overnight bag.
Two hours later and Holly lay sweating on the bed. She felt as if every toxin she’d ingested for the last decade (and let’s face it, there had been a few) was now attempting to crawl out of her pores. She’d been wrapped in seaweed, wrapped in cling film, left to marinade under a heated blanket and then pummelled with jets of icy water whilst wearing paper pants. And, to add insult to injury, she’d actually paid someone a small fortune for the privilege! Her stomach cramped yet again.
‘Milo!’ she called. ‘I really do need to use the bathroom. Will you be much longer?’
His voice echoed gruffly from the marble en-suite, ‘Probably a while.’
Holly winced as her stomach spasmed yet again, triggering a fresh deluge of sweats. ‘The thing is . . . well, I really, really need the bathroom. Maybe you could pop out for a mo? We could take it in turns?’
‘Daren’t risk it, Holls. Having a bit of a reaction to that detox thing. They did say I might. Probably best if I stay in here. Just in case.’
Holly tried again. ‘The thing is I had the same wrap and I really, really need five minutes in there. Then it’s all yours again. Just five minutes, Milo.’ Silence.
She hammered on the door, further enraged by her own supplicating tone.
More silence.
Then the sound of Holly’s digestive system spasming in protest. She stood up gingerly and wrapped the belt of her huge towelling robe around her tightly. The logical part of her brain gave the headlines. Two people, one loo, first come, first served. She mentally ran through the layout of the hotel, trying to track down the nearest ladies. Surely to God the one in reception couldn’t be the only one?
‘Milo? Can you even hear me? Stop being so bloody selfish!’
By way of response, she heard the energetic drumming of the waterfall power shower come on and that told her everything she needed to know about the state of her marriage. This was no hairline fracture that would quietly knit back together. This was shattered bones requiring major surgery and months of rehab, with no promise of a full recovery.
She grabbed the room key from the smart Georgian credenza, doubled over once more with the sweating, agonising cramps and made a dash for the ladies’ loos two floors down.
By definition, this was fast becoming the shittiest minibreak she had ever been on.
Chapter 39
Dan stepped sharply to one side, as Elsie’s little Fiat zipped past him and screeched to a halt.
‘Evening, Dr Carter.’
‘Elsie, I was just on my way to see you. How are you?’ asked Dan, leaning down to peer through the car window.
‘Vibrant, Vivacious and Vaguely Vertical, as always, thank you for asking.’ She smiled at him impishly. ‘I’ve just been practising for the concert, you know. So exciting!’
‘Great,’ replied Dan warmly. ‘Maybe you could stay in one piece until then. You could probably ease off on the speed a little, you know.’
Elsie laughed and waved a dismissive hand. ‘Oh, Dr Carter, don’t be silly. You know I have to drive quickly, or I forget where I’m going!’ With that, she put her foot down on the accelerator and without so much as a signal, pulled out and drove away.
Dan shook his head. Elsie Townsend was proving to be a slippery customer. She wasn’t quite all there and he knew it. But she wasn’t doolally either. He rather wondered whether Elsie at eighty was any different to Elsie at sixty. Either way, he couldn’t help but admire her.
Elsie Townsend was proving to be their secret weapon and for all Henry’s talk of immobilising her, Dan couldn’t quite believe that he would go that far.
Julia, on the other ha
nd, was convinced there was a risk and she wasn’t to be persuaded otherwise. She had half the team organised to take turns popping by, on a variety of pointless errands, just to check that Elsie was okay.
Julia, in fact, was on magnificent form all round.
After spending the best part of an evening poring over Henry’s financial spreadsheets together, Dan had been knocked sideways by Julia’s eloquent and outspoken defence of The Practice.
How the worm had turned.
She was driven and determined, like always, but now her efforts weren’t solely motivated by her own professional advancement. She was even using words like ‘team’ and ‘together’.
Dan couldn’t deny it was a winning combination for him. All the positives of this amazing woman, without all the endless bitching and one-upmanship that had led to their split.
At that thought, Dan couldn’t help but smile.
They’d ended up on the treatment table in his office, snogging like randy teenagers and Dan had rarely enjoyed himself more.
All their years of history, all that water under the bridge, coupled with the growing tension about the impending showdown with the PCT, had all lent a certain frisson to their fooling around; a certain siege mentality to seize the day.
Dan ran a finger under his shirt collar as memories of the night before washed over him. He couldn’t help thinking that things were looking up. He’d slept like a baby last night and felt calm and refreshed.
Okay, so George Kingsley was still being a wet blanket, noticeably absent from most of their strategy meetings. But now, with Julia and himself finally singing from the same song-sheet? Not to mention the youth and enthusiasm of Holly and Taffy? Dan rather hoped that Henry Bruce wouldn’t know what hit him.
The smile slipped from his face at the thought of his best mate. Poor Taffy.
Dan knew that Taffy had been pretty frank with Holly about his feelings. It hadn’t got him anywhere though, had it? And then that pregnant girl showing up at The Practice . . . Dan breathed out sharply. It looked like Taffy had some pretty tough decisions to make and Dan didn’t envy him. To choose between honour and love? There were no easy answers there.
