by Penny Parkes
Holly gave her a hug, holding on for just that extra second. ‘I was just singing your praises.’
‘Excellent!’ said Elsie gleefully. ‘Don’t let me stop you.’
Holly laughed. ‘See Lizzie – she’s trouble, this one.’
Lizzie shook her head, a little bemused. Holly could see that she was finding it hard to recalibrate: wasn’t Holly the one normally in need of support and introductions at social functions? They’d only been out of each other’s lives for a few short weeks, but so much had happened, so much had changed.
Mostly though, Holly had changed.
No more blushing violet, censoring her own opinions to try and fit in. The status quo had shifted and Holly felt buoyed by the idea of a wider circle of friendship. With friends who knew her true self, insecurities, warts and all. Those weeks without Lizzie had given her a timely reminder that having all your eggs in one basket was a risky business.
Holly felt for Lizzie’s hand and gave her a reassuring squeeze, knowing only too well how it felt to stand in Lizzie’s shadow and how invisible it had always made her feel.
Elsie launched into a terrifically risqué story about how she and Judy Garland had always been best friends, until they’d fought over the role of Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz. ‘I daren’t tell you why I lost the part, but to be fair Judy did a fabulous job. What a waste of a wonderful friendship over something as trivial as work.’ She gave Lizzie and Holly a meaningful look. ‘Now, obviously, it’s nice to see that you two have made up. I dare say,’ she carried on casually, ‘that it might be nice to include Julia in your little coven?’
Lizzie, unused to Elsie’s sense of humour, looked a little offended.
Holly just laughed. ‘If we have a coven then, what does that make you – High Priestess?’
‘I could get used to that,’ said Elsie with a cackle. ‘You girls still have an awful lot to learn. To misquote the words of Glinda, the good witch from Oz – your power was always there, my darlings, you just had to find it for yourselves.’
With every passing conversation, every thank you, every hug, Holly could feel her resolve slipping. The tears that had been threatening to make an appearance were poised in the wings, just waiting for an opportunity. Nobody said this path would be easy. She slipped away, as discussions turned to the rugby boys’ finale.
If only ‘finale’ didn’t make everything sound so very final, she thought.
Watching Elsie hold court, safe and well and full of joy, Holly knew that the evening had been a resounding success on every level. She wanted to take pride in what they’d achieved. Everyone had rallied together, performed so beautifully, supported her zany scheme so generously . . . She felt a warm glow from knowing that she had made a difference, but she couldn’t stay to watch their celebrations. It was just too much.
Gathering together her cello and various bits of clobber, Holly was quickly laden down with kit. She looked despairingly at the Beast and wished she’d had the foresight to bring the car. Now she was a single cello-playing parent, it might be a good idea to get over her park-o-phobia.
At that thought, her vision blurred and Holly made for the door. With single-minded determination, she knew she had to get out of there and had reached the Market Place before she was forced to stop. Pulling abruptly to a halt to avoid Prue Hartley’s misjudged three-point turn, Holly just about managed to keep her cello from crashing to the ground and the sob caught in her throat.
She steered the Beast over to the War Memorial that stood sentinel at one end of the Market Place and slid her cello gently to the ground. She knelt in front of the boys, to find that they were blissfully oblivious and still sleeping soundly. It was hard not to feel a little envious.
She slid down beside them, settling on the stone steps, barely feeling their icy chill. Cars were starting up all around her, some people calling goodnight to one another, others heading happily for The Kingsley Arms. She heard her own name called once or twice, but Holly found herself unable to respond, busying herself instead with the blankets on the pram.
Lights flickered on in the windows and curtains twitched closed – everybody living their own little lives. Tears freely flowing now, she watched her warm breath balloon in front of her and shivered. So much for spring.
Looking around at this place she’d begun to call home, Holly wondered whether she’d even be here for the next Spring Swim.
The very thought made her question her decision all over again. But she knew, without even digging too deeply, that she had done the right thing. This wonderful town, this community that had welcomed her with open arms, deserved to keep The Practice. And she had made that happen. That was surely something?
So, maybe with a little luck, she might get to work nearby. It was certainly a risk. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but it was better than nothing: she could still live here, live in Larkford, with her boys and her friends and a feeling that she belonged.
Blinking back a fresh wave of tears, she wished she’d listened to Lizzie about the benefits of waterproof mascara, letting out a small bubble of laughter at the very thought. A cloud flurried by and the full spring moon cast nighttime shadows across the Market Place, illuminating the war memorial looming behind her and she shivered again.
There really was no point going over this – the decision was made. It was time to come to terms with saying goodbye, even if only to her working life here. She dashed at her eyes with the back of her hand and took a steadying breath, stumbling to her feet.
She looked up instinctively as a shout echoed around the Market Place, ‘Holly!’ There was no doubting that it was Dan’s voice, filled with urgency and anger.
She turned and her heart lurched in her chest as she saw them: three figures silhouetted against the golden light spilling from the theatre doorway.
‘Were you just going to leave, then?’ shouted Dan, as he strode towards her, unable to wait to express his disgust. ‘All that talk – the concert – what the hell was that all about if you’re just going to run away?’ He skidded to a halt in front of her, waving the envelope that contained her letter to Harry Grant.
Taffy and Julia were beside him in a moment, their faces strangled by disbelief and confusion.
‘Holly?’ managed Taffy, his voice choked, reaching out for her. ‘What were you thinking?’ He stepped forward, just shy of touching her. ‘I don’t understand why you would do this?’
Julia interrupted him, talking over his words. ‘You said we were friends.’ She flapped her hands in the air. ‘I don’t do friends! But you persuaded me . . .’ Her hand fluttered down, until it lay on the handle of the Beast, her grip tightening automatically. She looked down, almost perplexed by her own actions. ‘You can’t go. The boys love it here. You said you did too.’ The accusation hung heavily in the air.
Holly’s face collapsed and the tears flowed down her cheeks. What was the point in holding them in? This decision was breaking her heart. At the very least she’d expected these three to understand her intentions. After all, they were the future of The Practice – they got to carry on living her dream. Was it too much to ask that they’d cut her some slack while she threw herself on her sword?
‘There really are no excuses for this, Graham,’ Dan carried on brusquely, as if the others hadn’t spoken. ‘In case you’d forgotten, we’re a team.’
‘Do you think I don’t know that?’ cried Holly desperately, her voice renting the air around them. She pressed her hand to her chest, desperate to catch her breath. ‘But I saw the real figures. Surely Mr Grant told you?’ She spotted him hovering behind Dan, looking apologetic.
‘He did,’ Dan acknowledged tightly, giving only slightly from his position of moral indignation. ‘But still . . .’
Julia butted in yet again. ‘That didn’t mean you had to do something so . . .’
‘Drastic,’ breathed Taffy, his hand reaching for hers and holding on tight.
She looked at him then, just him, her eyes pleading wi
th him to understand. ‘Then you must see that I didn’t really have a choice?’ She pressed his knuckles against her lips and took a deep calming breath. ‘I can still live here, hopefully. It doesn’t have to be . . . drastic. But this way, The Practice stays.’ To Holly, her logic was irrefutable and she panicked a little under their scrutiny. All her good intentions were weakening. What could she say to make them understand?
‘You didn’t honestly think we’d let you go?’ said Dan quietly, the anger having ebbed slowly away. Now he just looked exhausted and shaken.
‘You don’t need me,’ Holly said with a tearful shrug.
Taffy’s grip tightened imperceptibly on her hand.
Julia, still holding on to the Beast like a life raft, struggled to take another angle. ‘But we do! We do need you. Have you met me?’ she asked in frustration. ‘Should I really be the only female GP at The Practice? Did you really think this through?’
There was an awkward pause as the doors of the theatre flew open and belched another group of revellers out into the night. Hollering congratulations across to the huddle of doctors, they tumbled over to The Kingsley Arms and the night fell silent again.
Taffy pulled Holly around to face him, his hands resting lightly on her shoulders, seemingly poised to pull her into his embrace. ‘Ignore everything else, just for a moment; is this really what you want?’ His gaze sought the truth in her eyes and all Holly could think about was curling up against his jumper and how his arms would feel around her.
She cleared her throat, a last attempt to be eloquent and persuasive. ‘I can work anywhere, Taffs, but I want to live here.’ She made a sweeping gesture with her hand, encompassing all she’d come to love. ‘With my boys, in a town with a heart,’ she took a quick breath to strengthen her resolve, ‘and The Practice is part of that. They love you guys and they need you. Please don’t make this any harder.’
‘And if we need you?’ he managed gruffly. ‘If we want you?’
Holly leaned in and kissed him slowly on the lips, not caring who saw, just wanting to reassure this gorgeous man that she wanted him too. ‘I’m not going anywhere,’ she said softly.
‘No. You’re not,’ Dan interrupted abruptly, pulling Holly’s arm, until she broke away from Taffy. He held up the envelope and, making sure that Holly was watching his every move, he ripped it cleanly in half. ‘Julia’s done the maths. If we split the budget four ways, we all get to stay.’
‘It’s true,’ Julia butted in, nodding. ‘The numbers work.’ She rocked the Beast back and forth, ostensibly calming the sleeping twins, but more likely attempting to soothe her own obvious agitation.
Holly struggled to compute. ‘But surely that would mean that you all have to take a pay cut? I mean, that can’t be right? I can’t let you . . .’
Dan laughed. ‘Oh, Holly, you still don’t get it.’ His tone brooked no argument. ‘You really don’t have a choice.’
A well-timed cat call of ‘Alright, Darcey Bussell?’ broke the tension a little and Dan laughed. ‘Look, I know I’m being a little intense, but then look what you’ve achieved here tonight! Hell, you’ve even managed the unthinkable and impressed the number-cruncher from the PCT! No offence, Mr Grant.’
‘None taken,’ said Harry Grant from the background, where Holly could just make out a smile.
‘We need you to stay . . .’ said Dan.
‘We want you to stay,’ said Taffy.
‘And we’re all prepared to make a few little sacrifices to make that happen,’ said Julia firmly, her eyes fixed hopefully on Holly’s expression.
Holly looked around her, choked and overwhelmed. It almost seemed too good to be true. She was touched beyond measure that anyone would do such a selfless thing to help her. The parallels to her own proposed solution had somehow passed her by.
‘You guys . . .’ she began before grinding to a halt. ‘I don’t know what to say.’
‘Say yes,’ said Dan easily, as if stating the blindingly obvious. He reached over and took Julia’s hand. ‘Live a little.’
Holly watched them share an intimate look. Their offer was ridiculously appealing.
‘Taffy?’ she said, with no real question in mind, just hoping he might provide all the answers.
He shook his head with a gentle smile. ‘Not this time. You have to make your own decisions now, Graham.’ He stepped so close that she was forced to look up, ‘Of course, I’m quite happy to try and influence those decisions in my favour.’ He smiled and leaned down until their lips met in a slow and sensuous kiss.
‘I can think of one or two things I could do to guide you in the right direction,’ he sighed after a moment. His hand slid down to the small of her back and pulled her in closer. She felt a small release in her chest, as the knot of tension there dissolved.
‘I love you,’ she whispered so quietly that he might barely hear it.
He folded her into his arms and it was everything and more than she had ever hoped for.
‘Is that a yes?’ Julia interrupted, unable to wait for a reply any longer. ‘Sorry,’ she countered immediately, holding up a hand and looking embarrassed, knowing she’d overstepped. ‘Lovey-dovey etcetera, etcetera . . . But seriously – will you stay?’
Holly laughed, knowing now that Julia would never change. Knowing that she didn’t really want her to.
Dan said nothing, quietly waiting.
Holly looked up at Taffy, her mind made up, but unable to resist one more glance at the naked hope on his face. She leaned in and kissed him again, feeling his thumb trace away the single tear that rested on her cheek.
She nodded, a smile gently relaxing her face. ‘If you’re sure?’
A small hand tugged at Holly’s skirt and Tom stretched sleepily out of the pram. He yawned. ‘Are we home yet, Mummy?’ he murmured, dropping immediately back to sleep.
‘Yes,’ said Holly, looking around her. ‘I rather think we are.’
Acknowledgements
Out of Practice would not be in your hands without the efforts of my wonderful agent, Teresa Chris, whose absolute faith in my abilities always makes me dig deeper and work harder.
Having Jo Dickinson as my editor feels a little like winning the lottery and her insightful feedback and enthusiasm for my cast of characters makes working with her tremendously rewarding and really rather fun. Thank you, Jo, for keeping the faith.
The fabulous team at Simon and Schuster have made me feel incredibly welcome from the very start and I am so looking forward to working with them. Sara-Jade Virtue over at Books and the City is intent on making this a debut to remember and I am loving every milestone we get to celebrate.
I must also thank the RNA who have quietly played a role in making my dream a reality – I am constantly amazed by how supportive and generous their members have been in welcoming a newbie to their ranks. Thank you for the wonderful friendship, cracking advice and, of course, the occasional party.
To my ‘radiator’ friends – you know who you are – I thank you for your love, support and boundless positivity – not to mention your embarrassing anecdotes! (See, I told you I wouldn’t mention you by name . . . x)
Lastly, and most importantly, to my family – to Sam, Rosie, Bertie and Willow, who have provided laughter, hugs and unconditional love every step of the way. Oh, and the odd cup of coffee . . . I am incredibly lucky to have you in my life.
