by Penny Parkes
Jade walked over and stood beside her in solidarity. They were unlikely bedfellows, but this common enemy had obviously brought them together, for now at least. ‘And you can stop making fun of how Maggie runs the pharmacy. She likes things to be organised and clean, so what? In case you hadn’t noticed, we’re quite big on clean around here – what with it being a place of medicine and all!’
Jason pushed himself off the table and stood next to Jade. ‘To be fair though, Jade,’ he whispered, ‘we all look at your boobs because they kind of draw the eye in that little dress.’
Jade elbowed him in the ribs. ‘I don’t mind people I like looking at them. Just not him.’
Julia sighed, taking in the angry red faces and acrimonious atmosphere. Dear God, maybe Holly had a point and they really did need a little time to get their ducks in a row before any official oversight began. She daren’t think what jowly Derek Landers would make of all this discord; he’d probably be delighted. Her phone rang out in her pocket and she automatically hit Decline, only for it to ring out again, and again.
Dan stepped forward. ‘I can hold the fort here if you need to get that?’
Julia shook her head. ‘It’s just my mother.’
The next moment, Dan’s mobile began to ring and he answered immediately. ‘Oh, hi, Mrs Channing.’
Julia glared at him, knowing he was about to pass the handset over and shook her head. ‘I am not here,’ she whispered urgently.
‘Oh, I’m sure she would love to talk to you, but perhaps she’s with a patient right now.’ He nodded into the phone. ‘Of course I will pass the message along . . . Yes, well, I’ll leave you two to organise a date . . . Yes, of course, I’ll look forward to seeing you then.’
He hung up to find all eyes on him. ‘What?’ he said. ‘How difficult would it be to have her here for a weekend? She’s obviously lonely.’
The very fact that Dan could make such a naïve statement told Julia everything she needed to know. He’d obviously grasped the intellectual notion of her mother’s drinking problem, but having had zero experience of living with an alcoholic, he had no frame of reference for the day-to-day realities. It certainly seemed to her as though he had never actually taken on board just how much her family baggage affected her.
Larkford was Julia’s sanctuary, her own little place to be: there was no way she would allow her mother to come barging in and ruin it all – let alone with Quentin’s film crew lurking around every corner. Judging by the beady expression on his face, his antennae were already pinging for a story. Besides, she wasn’t sure that her rapidly depleting bank account, let alone her own sanity, could cope with Candace Channing’s ever-escalating demands.
The atmosphere in the room grew heavier. ‘Right,’ said Julia, ‘it’s been a very long day and I don’t know about you lot, but I think we’ll all be much more diplomatic after a good night’s sleep. So, you don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here . . .’ She echoed Teddy Kingsley’s favourite end-of-the-night phrase at The Kingsley Arms, aiming for levity, trying to soothe the disgruntled feathers just a little bit. She saw Dan watching her every move. ‘And if it’s easier to talk to me than to each other, then I’m happy to mediate any issues. How does that sound?’ It was an appeasing gesture that cost her nothing, but she saw that Dan’s demeanour softened instantly. He was forever harping on about people clearing up their own mess and apparently, this particular mess had Julia written all over it.
As everyone shuffled out of the room, Dan took her arm. ‘I can’t be arsed to cook, can you? Why don’t we grab a quiet supper at The Deli?’ His intentions were all in the right place, but for Julia the very idea of listening to chirpy Hattie at The Deli going on and on about her miracle twins was more than she could cope with after a hectic day on parade.
To Dan’s eyes, Hattie and Lance were prime examples of how becoming parents had changed their world for the better. Lance’s drive to overcome a bleak prognosis of testicular cancer had been phenomenal – his steadfast determination not to miss the arrival of his first-born had defied all statistical odds. His motivation had been further stoked when a later scan had revealed a second heartbeat, lurking in the background and catching them all off-guard. Lance’s remarkable recovery and strength of character had amazed them all and even Julia could acknowledge that they really made a lovely little family: Hattie, running the kitchen at The Deli and juggling her offspring, Lance behind the counter as master of his Gaggia and so clearly besotted and amazed by every milestone he was able to witness.
Julia felt the band of tension around her head tighten. She knew she was being unnecessarily defensive with Dan, but how on earth had she managed to fall in love with the only man in the world whose biological clock was ticking down so loudly that a detonation was inevitable?
And she really wasn’t in the mood to open that can of worms again.
Somehow, in her mind, the whole parenting/parent thing was muddled together. All the efforts she’d made to separate herself from her dysfunctional family were in danger of being undone, simply because she and Dan were now a proper couple. What was it about the road to domesticity that forced you to rekindle the concept of family, she wondered. That alone was reason enough for Julia to reject the whole notion of marriage and children out of hand, even putting aside the dark fear that, should she become a parent herself, there was always the incipient danger of turning into her mother.
She reached out and squeezed Dan’s hand. ‘I’ll cook,’ she said, a small but emotive gesture to try and show him that she cared. Julia was not known for her conciliatory nature, but even she could tell that Dan was edging towards the end of his tether with her. The only problem was, she had absolutely no idea what to do about it, short of sacrificing her every belief and conviction.
Chapter 5
Holly shuffled through the paperwork in front of her and felt utterly rattled. She was all for making hay while the sun shone, but the haste with which they were approaching the hiring of new staff was bordering on the ridiculous. She’d barely blinked and a week had flown past, punctuated only by an increasingly large amount of paperwork that seemed to end up, almost exclusively, on her desk. Julia’s TV crew had been breathing down all their necks, desperate to capture their reactions to the nomination on film and Holly had been forced to use her Lamaze breathing technique not to shove Quentin’s clipboard somewhere medically unsuitable.
Her mobile pinged beside her with a text from Lizzie:
Thank you for my bouquet – you nutter – how many wooden spoons could I possibly need though? Seriously? One of them is two foot tall . . .
Holly grinned – as so often was the case, the point had sailed right over Lizzie’s immaculately coiffured head. Based on the amount of meddling Lizzie had been up to of late though, it had seemed the perfect gift:
They’re for all the stirring you do! xx
The reply pinged back almost instantly:
Oh ha ha . . . Coffee? Please say yes – I’m sooooo bored . . .
Holly was thrown for a moment; now Lizzie was a lady of leisure, it was as though she had forgotten about pesky things like jobs and commitments. Sometimes, she honestly wondered what her friend thought she did all day, as she tapped out a quick reply that she had patients to see.
Ple-ease – I miss you came the plaintive response, playing right into Holly’s guilt that she hadn’t been there enough for Lizzie recently, through all the big changes in her life. She felt for Lizzie, she really did. It was hard to re-invent yourself career-wise, but a little bit of focus would surely help? And maybe not using her friends as guinea pigs for every crack-pot venture. Holly’s wardrobe still hadn’t recovered from Lizzie’s practice run as a personal stylist – she’d been sneakily buying her own clothes back from the Cancer Research shop ever since.
Let’s walk Eric together in the morning? she replied, feeling guilty that it was all she could offer right now, and then flicked her phone to silent to focus on the job in hand.
> Pushing aside the heap of CVs, she took a deep breath and picked up the phone, hesitating for a second as she dialled the number that was almost engraved on her brain. How many times in the last week had she dialled it, only to lose her nerve and hang up? It felt disloyal, it felt sneaky and she still wasn’t completely convinced it was the right thing to do. The only thing she was sure of, was that there was no way she was signing up to this Model Surgery nonsense without a little more information.
‘Harry Grant,’ answered the disembodied voice at the end of the phone.
‘Harry, it’s Holly Graham from Larkford. Have you got time for a quick word?’
She’d never taken him up on his regular offers of support or advice before, but somehow knowing he was there in the background watching over Larkford had given her some measure of comfort. And now this! What on earth had Harry Grant been thinking, throwing them into the deep end like that?
‘I did wonder if you’d call, Holly,’ he said, seemingly unsurprised. ‘In fact, I’ve even been working up some figures for you. Patient care budgets, patient referral targets and – well, am I on the right track?’
‘Am I so very predictable, Harry?’
She could almost hear him shrug. ‘I’d be almost disappointed if you weren’t. Patients first, then plaudits, isn’t that the Holly Graham way?’
‘And the numbers?’ said Holly, refusing to be mollified too easily, although wildly flattered. ‘Do they add up? You have to realise, Harry, that this is hardly an ideal situation.’
‘I’m so sorry if I’ve put you all on the spot, Holly. And perhaps I should have been more upfront with you all about Derek Landers’ slash-and-burn policy – I’ve been shouting it down for the last few months, but he does have an awful lot of friends in high places. This is a life-line for The Practice, Holly, make no mistake.’
Holly took a breath, a little winded by this revelation. ‘Well, that does rather put things in perspective,’ she said.
‘I want you to know, Holly, that this isn’t a whim or bravado on my part. I’ve seen what you and the team have achieved and this is no small endorsement. I know the speed is almost improper and the commitments on your side seem a little loosely defined, but I want you to know that I have your back. I wouldn’t let The Practice enter into any agreement that I had doubts about – not after all your sterling efforts last year. It’s a little unusual, granted, but then so is your set-up in Larkford.’
‘So it’s really not just a bet, then?’ Holly ventured, daring to question out loud what she’d been dwelling on for days and unable to hide the concern in her voice.
‘It’s not a bet at all,’ said Harry tersely. ‘I know that your Dr Jones saw it that way, but if you could think of it as more of a challenge, I think we’d all be more productive.’
‘You know it’s the patient care angle that concerns me—’ she began, before he interrupted her smoothly.
‘And that is our priority too. Having another GP on the payroll, having extended hours for the nursing clinic – these are all measurable attributes and I can configure . . .’ He stopped with a chuckle. ‘Sorry, Holly, slipped into bureaucrat-ese there for a moment. Allow me to be blunt, off the record, of course?’
‘Of course.’
‘You and your team are really going to earn this extra funding one way or another. But I’m absolutely convinced that the improvements in patient care and patient services will more than offset the increased bureaucracy. If I’m being frank, it’s your admin team who will feel the weight of this initially.’
‘Poor Grace,’ said Holly under her breath.
‘Grace Allen?’ Harry said, clearly having no issues with his hearing.
‘She’s our Practice Manager,’ Holly reminded him, only to hear him chuckle at the end of the phone.
‘Oh, I know who she is, Holly. She’s currently making waves over in Bristol on their Medical Administration Diploma.’ He paused. ‘Leave that one with me – maybe we can sweeten the deal for her, by making all this compliance count towards her coursework?’
‘So, hiring a new GP?’ Holly ventured.
‘Go ahead and get it done, Holly. Spend the money while it’s on the table and between you and me, try and make hay with this one while the sun shines. You and your team can do no wrong at HQ at the moment, so before they come knocking on the door for a favour, get your house in order and get yourselves properly staffed. Plus, you know, it’s one in the eye for Derek bloody Landers.’
‘Thank you, Harry,’ said Holly with feeling, appreciating his blunt honesty more than he might realise. She wasn’t stupid, though: this nomination may turn out to be a sensible course of action for them professionally, but there was no denying that, on some level, for Harry Grant, this was personal.
As she hung up the phone, she clicked Send & Receive on her e-mail account and automatically scanned her Inbox for Milo’s name. It had become an unconscious action now. Every time she sent him an update about the twins, she would be twitchy and on edge for days, waiting to hear back. The fact that she never, ever did, hardly seemed to make any difference.
She jumped guiltily as Taffy pushed open the door. ‘Are you hiding away in here?’ he asked, his brow furrowing at her reaction.
Holly quickly pushed her mouse to one side, knowing what Taffy’s response would be if she explained. She honestly couldn’t bear him to patiently and sweetly rationalize for the umpteenth time why she really shouldn’t be bothering any more. She couldn’t listen to all the reasons why maintaining contact with the twins’ father wasn’t doing her any favours at all.
She focused instead on the light grazing of stubble on his jaw from where they had ‘overslept’ that morning and hustled out of the door, late and ruffled and laughing like teenagers. ‘Do you need me?’ she said, standing up and walking towards him with her folder of CVs, shoving a pen into her ponytail for safe-keeping.
‘Always,’ he said, sliding a hand around her waist and managing to find the tiny gap between her blouse and her waistband. ‘But in this case, actually in the doctors’ lounge because Julia has called a meeting.’ He pulled an aghast face, which pretty much mirrored Holly’s own feelings on that scenario.
Falling into step beside him and dropping her guard, she almost jolted when he spoke quietly to her, ‘You don’t need to hide your e-mails, Holly. I know you want to keep Milo in the loop about the twins and what they’re up to, but it doesn’t need to become a thing between us, unless you let it.’
‘I wasn’t hiding anything, I just—’
Taffy stopped and turned to face her, oblivious to the comings and goings around them. ‘You know how you get all defensive when somebody is mean to the boys? Well, imagine a version of that feeling. Imagine watching the person you love set themselves up for pain and disappointment over and over again.’ He shrugged. ‘Just think about it. I know you want to do the right thing by Milo, but is his radio silence doing the right thing by you, or the boys?’
Holly shook her head, touched and riled in equal measure, but not truly knowing how best to react, ‘This isn’t about sinking to his level. This is about the fact that, whether we like it or not, he is their father and he needs to know what his children are up to.’ Her tone was defensive and she could see Taffy reacting in kind, anger flaring in his eyes.
‘But does he respond, interact, appreciate your efforts?’ Taffy said abruptly, clearly trying hard not to be more outspoken on this particular topic – realising, as Holly did, that it was the only thing they ever argued about. ‘Does he know, do you think, how much it upsets you to write those e-mails? Because I do, Holly,’ Taffy said with feeling, ‘and I really want you to think about whose welfare comes first in this scenario – yours, or his?’ He took a deliberately deep breath and changed tack slightly. ‘You need to look at the big picture on this, Holls, and you know that. This is a marathon not a sprint, and if you don’t take a proactive approach to managing—’
‘What?’ Holly challenged, utterly riled. �
��The boys’ welfare? Doing the right thing? Or perhaps there’s some sports psychology theory that covers childhood abandonment issues that I might have missed?’ She caught herself before her tone could become more scathing. She knew her anger was misdirected, but Taffy’s habit of oversimplifying everything and his tendency to use sporting analogies for every facet of life, wound her up every time. She squeezed his hand. ‘Sorry. But honestly, there’s no right way to do this, Taff, we just have to find the way that works for us. But for me, this isn’t applied theory: it’s my boys. And their dad. And finding a path that gives them a reasonable shot at getting through a divorce with some self-esteem and confidence left over.’
Taffy smiled knowingly. ‘You see – big picture . . .You’re doing it already.’
And to his credit, he barely flinched when Holly elbowed him firmly in the ribs.
Holly still felt jangled by Taffy’s comments, irritated that Milo still managed to cause problems in her life even as an absentee, annoyed that Taffy weighed in so heavily on this particular issue every single time it came up. Even with the best of intentions, it still felt as though he was telling her what to do and that made Holly’s defences spring up on autopilot.
Pulling her mind back to the job in-hand, she spread out the CVs on the table for discussion: A-levels, degrees, work experience all blurring into one amorphous haze. She struggled to quieten the voice in her head that told her not to take her frustrations out on Julia, whose pinched expression of disappointment at the ‘quality of the candidates’ made Holly want to pass the whole vetting process over to her lock, stock and barrel.
But, if they were going to find a good fit, then even a grumpy, irritated Holly could see that wouldn’t be the ideal way forward. She took a breath. ‘I really want to talk you through my choices here, because I think there are a couple of really good applicants that would have been over-looked if I’d rigidly stuck to the original Qualification Criteria. And, I know, we were only going to look at . . .’
