by Penny Parkes
Grace smiled. ‘I can think of worse ways to spend an evening. And frankly, it’ll make a change from staring at my coursework until the wee small hours.’
‘Just think, though,’ said Holly, standing up to follow her through to the waiting room, ‘what a sense of achievement when you get your certification. I hope there’s a graduation ceremony? I can’t think of a better excuse for a party.’
Well, fifty years of marriage probably qualified too, she thought, as she mentally tallied up a list of things she would need to pack when she got home later, which seemed to consist of everything the boys owned in terms of weather options – it may be summer, but it was also Wales and wellies came as standard. She only hoped it hadn’t been a mistake to let Taffy take the twins shopping to choose his parents’ anniversary present!
Her heart sank a little at that point. It was the curse of the mother, that every holiday required so much hassle and organisation, that if she hadn’t been in need of a break beforehand, she certainly would be by the time she’d got them all out of the door. And let’s be honest, she thought to herself, it hardly counts as a holiday if you’re going against your will.
Her last patient of the day came as a bit of a surprise. ‘Lizzie!’ said Holly, as her friend appeared, limping, in the doorway, Eric walking sedately beside her on his lead.
‘If anyone asks, he’s an assistance dog, okay? I gather that’s A Thing here now,’ Lizzie grinned. ‘And his overnight bag is in reception with Grace. I’ve given him a very stern talking to about table manners and snoring, and he reckons he’s good to go.’ She kissed the top of his head and he looked at her adoringly. ‘Although he’s never been on holiday before, so he’s feeling a little bit nervous about being away from home.’
‘Is it possible that actually you are a little bit nervous about him being away from home?’ asked Holly gently.
‘There is that small possibility; I won’t deny it. But I know he’s in safe hands, it’s just that, well, I’m not really sure how strong a swimmer he is and with being by the sea . . .’
Holly nodded, completely understanding; Eric was just a big baby really. ‘I’ll be super careful, I promise.’
Lizzie visibly pulled herself together and changed tack. ‘Anywaaaaay,’ she said, ‘I’m here about my back actually. Played tennis last night. Can’t stand up straight this morning. Feels like the whole bloody thing’s in spasm.’
‘Crikey,’ said Holly. ‘I knew exercise was bad for us really. Let’s have a little look. What painkillers did you take?’
‘Oh, I didn’t take any painkillers,’ said Lizzie in disgust. ‘If I disguise the pain, how can I tell if it’s getting better?’
Holly shook her head in frustration. ‘But you managed to get into the car okay, to get here? Or did that make it worse?’
‘Oh no, I didn’t get Will to drive me. He’s flat out busy at work, so I just walked over here with Eric as my guide dog.’
Holly settled back on the edge of her desk. ‘Lizzie, you know I love you, but you’re talking crap. If you had debilitating back pain, you wouldn’t be able to get off the floor, let alone go for a quiet stroll through Larkford and poo-poo the idea of painkillers! What’s going on? Really?’
Lizzie looked petulant for a moment. ‘Well, my back really does hurt and you’re not being terribly sympathetic.’
‘Granted,’ said Holly, realising that Lizzie had a valid point. ‘But what’s the real problem? The one you couldn’t have asked me about at the kitchen table later?’ she asked gently.
Lizzie scowled. ‘I feel weird,’ she said petulantly.
‘Well, I suppose it’s natural, I am your mate after all. But Julia’s in this afternoon, if you’d rather see her . . . I guess that might be a bit weird too though?’ Holly tugged absentmindedly at her hair. ‘Maybe it’s just as well we’ve got Alice now, to give patients like you a bit of distance . . .’
‘Are you done?’ interrupted Lizzie with a sigh. ‘I didn’t mean I felt weird talking to you about it. That’s why I’m here. I’m here because I feel weird.’
‘Oh,’ said Holly succinctly.
‘Oh indeed,’ replied Lizzie. ‘But can we not forget the back-ache in all of this? I know I’m just a statistic now – eighty per cent of people will suffer back pain at some point in their lives . . .’ she parroted off.
‘Stay away from the bloody internet,’ said Holly, exasperated. ‘Come on, Lizzie, you know better. Now tell me all about this weird and when it actually started.’
So Lizzie did and, as she spoke, Holly became increasingly aware that she had let her friend down. Dismissing Lizzie’s indecision and puddle jumping from one career to another, as the hallmark of a woman with too much choice and not enough financial pressures, she hadn’t seen it for what it really was: the desperate searching for calm from a woman who was riddled with anxiety.
‘So once my heart starts racing really quickly, I get odd things going on with my vision and I feel nauseous and then I kind of, well, I have to sit down before I fall down.’ She looked studiously at Eric, as she asked the question she had clearly come to ask, ‘Am I going mad, then? Is it off to the funny farm, with a nice white linen jacket with wrap-around sleeves?’
‘At least you haven’t lost your sense of humour, anyway,’ said Holly. ‘And no, you’re not going mad.’
‘N’yeah,’ replied Lizzie disparagingly, as though she had already made up her mind that she was. ‘It’s like Schrödinger’s Cat this – if your friend has a nervous breakdown and there’s nobody there to hear it, will it make a sound?’ She sniffed, still trying to lighten the mood. ‘Do I need a week at The Priory to treat me for “exhaustion”?’ she asked, semi-hopefully.
‘Are you exhausted?’ asked Holly drily.
Lizzie shrugged. ‘Probably no more than the next poor sod. Am I to be put on the funny pills then?’
‘Nope,’ said Holly. ‘We’re going to talk some more over the next week or so – you get preferential treatment, you know. And then I’m thinking that a course of CBT would be a good place to start – Cognitive Behavioural Therapy. Let’s find out what’s really going on, rather than doping you up to the eyeballs. It’s a tricky beast, anxiety. We can just stick on a Band-Aid, of course, but I’d rather work out why it’s happening, wouldn’t you?’
Lizzie nodded. ‘Makes sense. Anything to do in the meantime?’
Holly smiled. ‘That one’s easy.’ She scribbled intently on her green prescription pad and ripped off the page.
Her beautifully swirly handwriting was the exception that proved the rule among doctors’ usual unintelligible scrawl:
Be kind to yourself – if in doubt, treat yourself like you’d treat me in the same situation xxx
Holly leaned forward and took Lizzie’s hands in hers. ‘Elsie is always telling me that real compassion means being kind to yourself first and then others. You can’t pour from an empty cup. So cut yourself some slack – if we talked to our friends like we talk to ourselves, we wouldn’t have any friends left. Promise me, follow the amazing advice you’re forever throwing my way and take it easy on yourself. And when I get back from Wales in a few days, we are going to get you sorted, okay?’
Lizzie nodded again, a single tear escaping the others that were welling in her eyes. ‘I can’t believe I’m crying at the fricking doctor’s – I’m such a cliché.’
‘Nah – everybody cries at the doctor’s. You’re just normal.’
‘Oh dear God,’ said Lizzie in shock. ‘Now you’re just making it worse!’
Holly stood up and gave her a proper hug. ‘And take some ibuprofen for your back, have a hot bath and accept that you’re not twenty-one anymore,’ she said with a smile, as she shepherded her through to the waiting room, giving her one last bear hug as she was leaving.
Old Mr Jarley rubbed his hands together with glee and gave a filthy cackle. It was entirely in keeping with his reputation as the town’s lecherous old git. ‘Now why do I never get to see that doct
or, eh? I could use a bit of her medicine, if you know what I mean?’
‘I know exactly what you mean, you dirty old man,’ exploded Lizzie. ‘And to be clear, we all know it’s you that’s been scaring all the joggers in the park, in your disgusting old mac. So back off, lay off and fuck off, or I’ll have to flatten you. Okay?’ said Lizzie with such forceful conviction that Holly wondered whether Lizzie might actually have succeeded where all the police cautions had failed.
She turned to Holly apologetically, ‘Oh yeah, did I forget to mention the sudden rage at inappropriate times?’
Holly just shrugged, relieved to see that, on some levels at least, her friend was still fully functional. ‘Don’t know what you’re talking about. Seems entirely appropriate to me.’
Chapter 14
Julia pushed open the door of the Gatehouse and immediately the familiar and soothing aroma of vanilla and jasmine made her breathe more easily. She kicked off her mules and noted with a mild wave of irritation that their nude suede finish had not fared too well on the river bank at the weekend. She pulled a can of Diet Coke from the fridge, and tried to ignore the hectoring voice in her head that rattled on about the perils of artificial sweeteners. Surely, she might be allowed to have just one vice in peace, she thought.
She’d been working late in the edit suite with Quinn for the last few days and she and Dan had been subtly avoiding each other at work in a well-choreographed dance that they had perfected when they had broken up last year. It still hurt though, when his eyes repeatedly slipped past hers without making contact. She only hoped this wouldn’t be a case of history repeating itself.
With every day that passed and every opportunity they missed to really talk, the elephant in the room grew bigger. Hence this evening. A part of her was irritated that they needed to diarise a time to have a decent conversation, the other part was just relieved they weren’t one of those couples that booked in their sex life too.
Julia knew she’d bungled their conversation on the river bank. Since saying the words out loud, she’d even wondered whether she actually wanted the London job, or whether she’d just wanted to cast a fly over the waters, wanted Dan to realise that it was a huge honour – what Holly’s boys would call ‘A Big Deal’ – to have even been considered to present a primetime health and lifestyle programme. Maybe, she conceded, a little part of her mind had just wanted him to be proud of her for that alone.
Leaving Larkford was an argument she couldn’t bring herself to lose, but couldn’t quite muster the energy to win.
She sipped at her vile fizzy drink and realised that nothing had really changed: she was still subconsciously seeking acknowledgement and approval – the needy child inside her still apparently wanted reassurance that she was doing okay.
She hovered in front of the fridge, wondering whether a nice home-cooked supper might be enough to build a few bridges between them. Enough, anyway, to allow them to discuss this new job offer openly without it having cataclysmic overtones for their relationship.
She heard his key in the lock and stiffened slightly. ‘I thought I might cook those steaks,’ she called through to the hallway, careful to keep her tone light and breezy.
‘Good idea,’ he replied. The tension in his shoulders made him look hunched and unhappy, his hands rammed deeply into his pockets as though he were gearing up all his energy to cope with the conversation ahead.
The awkwardness between them made even the shortest exchange feel arduous. She placed the bundle of bloody greaseproof paper on the worktop and tried not to feel sick. Red meat was the quickest way to Dan’s heart and right now, she would do almost anything to clear the air between them.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she blurted out, catching him as he began to say the same.
They laughed awkwardly. ‘So, I guess we’re both sorry,’ he said, leaning against the worktop and taking her hand gently in his. ‘I know I didn’t react very well when you told me about—’
‘God, Dan, I just dropped it like a bombshell because I didn’t know how—’
‘I love you,’ he interrupted her gruffly. ‘You do know that, don’t you?’
She nodded. ‘Me too. But somehow – have you noticed? We don’t seem to be making each other very happy.’ She swallowed the tears that rose unbidden into her throat. ‘I just don’t think I can be the person you want me to be, that’s all.’
He pulled her into his arms, enveloping her slight frame as he kissed the top of her hair. ‘I don’t want to be the reason you give up on your ambitions, though. I can’t be the only reason you stay here. I need you to stay here because you want to.’
She nodded into his chest. It seemed the easiest answer. Nodding because she agreed with his statement though, rather than anything else.
‘Maybe it will feel better if we talk it all through?’ he suggested. ‘If nothing else, there are boring practicalities to consider at work if you really are thinking of leaving – this Model Surgery business for one thing and the Health in the Community launch for another.’
Julia shrugged in his arms, barely trusting herself to speak. This was one of those rare times where she truly had no idea what to do for the best. ‘Would you think I was mad if I made a list?’ she mumbled into his chest, the smooth and cool linen of his shirt soft against her cheek. Held tightly there, in that moment, there was no job in the world that could compete.
Dan’s laugh echoed in his chest against her face. ‘I wouldn’t expect anything less.’ He stepped back and reached for a pen, casting around for a piece of paper.
Julia sat down at the kitchen table, banging her ankle as she always did, as they tried to manoeuvre around this tiny kitchen. She really hadn’t been joking when she’d suggested they find somewhere slightly bigger than this very beautiful, but completely impractical dolls’ house. Maybe living quite so on top of each other hadn’t been the cleverest idea after all, no matter how romantic it had seemed at first.
‘Quinn says I have to choose,’ Julia said, so quietly it was almost a whisper.
Dan scooped up the post from the mat beside the front door. ‘And I imagine Quinn isn’t just talking about the job, is he?’
Julia shrugged. ‘I still don’t see why I can’t commute. It’s not a million miles away . . .’ She deliberately didn’t address the issue that Dan had raised.
Dan placed the pen in her hand and pushed over the pile of envelopes for her to scribble on. ‘I might be wrong, but if you have to think this hard about it, then staying with me in Larkford can’t be quite the happy ending you’re hoping for.’ He paused, clearly waiting for Julia to interrupt and contradict him, but she said nothing.
His shoulders dropped and he leaned back against the worktop. Had Julia looked up, she would have seen the utter despondency on his face, his beautiful eyes hollow with disappointment.
But she couldn’t.
Her own gaze was riveted to the transparent window of the envelope in her hand. ‘Dan?’ she managed eventually, her voice cracking with the strain.
He looked down and saw the official looking sticker from the Royal Mail, even before his brain could register what it truly meant.
‘Redirection?’
Julia stood up suddenly, yanking open the sash windows with such force that they rattled in their ancient frames and drawing the fresh evening air into her lungs as though she were drowning.
‘I guess it’s one way to let me know,’ she said, the brittle edge of hysteria making her words waver. She turned and roughly spread the rest of the mail across the table. Three other letters bore the same sticker: Candace Channing – Redirection.
‘Did I mention that my mother’s moving in?’ Julia said with a slightly hysterical sob, blinking away the heavy tears that threatened to spill down her face.
They stared at each other in muted dismay. Pros and cons forgotten. The Talk? Clearly postponed.
‘If you want to leave now, I wouldn’t blame you,’ Julia managed eventually. ‘It’s not as though we didn’
t know that was a possibility anyway.’
Dan shook his head, ever the gentleman. ‘Now you’re just being daft. If – and I do mean if – we decide to call it a day, it certainly won’t be because your mother is coming to stay. Maybe it’s a blessing in disguise anyway – we can take our time to think things through and not rush into anything. And I get to meet your mum properly.’ He paused awkwardly. ‘Which is nice.’
Julia took the two small paces necessary to cross the kitchen and wrapped her arms around him, kissing him deeply. ‘I love you. For your optimism. For your patience . . .’
‘Stop talking,’ murmured Dan, pushing his hands into her hair and savouring the kiss. He wrapped his arms around her and lifted her on to her tiptoes, all talk of if and when and endings forgotten. At least this aspect of their relationship seemed to weather the test of time and reality.
The phone rang out into the empty kitchen behind them as they slowly made their way through the Gatehouse to the bedroom. Taffy’s voice echoed out around them. ‘Er, guys? Pick up if you’re in?’ His voice became muffled as he spoke to whoever was with him. ‘Listen, I’m coming over. I’ve got Julia’s mum with me. She’s a bit, well, erm . . . Look, we’ll be there in a mo, okay?’
There could be no quicker way of smothering any nascent flickers of passion than the prospect of Candace Channing arriving on their doorstep.
Dan may have looked a bit bemused, Julia thought, but she knew perfectly well what Taffy’s awkward message translated to. She stepped out of Dan’s embrace, her whole demeanour suddenly detached and emotionless. ‘Put the kettle on, Dan,’ she managed.
‘Right, sure, yes, tea,’ he replied, tucking in his shirt and smoothing back his non-existent hair automatically. Julia watched him go through the motions of a nice boy, from a nice family, preparing to meet his girlfriend’s mother.
‘Dan,’ she said gently, ‘make it coffee. Strong and black.’ She had to look away as the penny dropped for fear she might make it worse by being a bitch. Because God knows, that’s what she felt like being right then: an angry, unforgiving, shouty bitch. His hand seeking hers for mutual reassurance was somehow enough to stop the transformation, but the seed was already sown and Julia could only envisage the end.
