by Penny Parkes
Holly smiled. Typical Elsie. Nobody else she knew would apologise for collapsing despite their best efforts.
‘But you’re okay now? What did the doctor say this morning?’
Elsie waved her hand dismissively. ‘Pfft! Something along the lines of “you’re old, shit happens, get used to it”. He wasn’t exactly inspiring, let’s put it that way. But honestly, I feel fine now and there must be somebody more in need of this bed than me.’
She went to take a sip of her tea and winced as the hot liquid dribbled slightly on one side of her mouth. It was fractional, but Holly realised there was a definite droop to one side of her face and obviously her lips weren’t quite under control – not that they ever really had been.
‘So it happened again?’ Holly said, concerned.
‘They’re all over-reacting! Honestly, you spill one little cocktail . . .’
But this time there was no fobbing Holly off and the notion that Elsie’s disquiet since her return had been about the whereabouts of the errant Barry O’Connor suddenly seemed very foolish.
Maybe it was the unforgiving hospital lighting that illuminated the very signs that Elsie had taken such pains to disguise: the ring hanging loosely on her increasingly slender fingers, the limpness to her arm and hand, and the way she was concentrating so hard to form her words. And of course, the very fact that she had asked for help.
‘I’m so glad Grace was there,’ Holly said gently. ‘I’m so sorry I wasn’t.’ The guilt laced into her words made Elsie frown.
‘What are you going to do now, baby-sit me every minute of every day? Buy me one of those foul red buttons to dangle around my neck?’
Holly didn’t say anything, but Elsie was obviously still astute enough to know that was exactly what Holly had been considering. ‘When Cartier make one, I’ll wear it,’ Elsie said firmly, as if that settled the matter.
‘Elsie—’ Holly began, before pulling herself up short, clearly deciding that they could talk about this later. ‘Where is Grace anyway? I wanted to thank her . . .’
‘She’s gone to get some coffee and you wanted to quiz her,’ Elsie retorted. ‘Find out all the nitty gritty about which bit of me broke this time. I’ve been away for months, Holly. I had rather hoped we could have a few weeks of lovely chats about Life, Loves and the Universe, before we started on the mundane.’
Normally, such chastisement from Elsie would have had Holly profusely apologising and rushing to mollify her, but Holly’s new-found backbone was firmly in place these days. Even when it came to Elsie. ‘Well, we could do, and I could pretend that two mini-strokes in as many weeks wasn’t a wake-up call. Or we could actually be honest with one another and talk about the elephant in the room.’
‘I don’t think you should call me an elephant,’ protested Elsie, making one last attempt at humour, before admitting defeat and sinking back into her pillows. She seemed to shrink and wizen before Holly’s very eyes. It only went to show how much of Elsie’s physical presence was driven by her forceful personality.
‘Oh, stop hovering there looking all terrified,’ Elsie said grumpily. ‘I’ve said I’m sorry about all this and I’m clearly fine. Go and get that bloody chart before your head explodes and then you’ll see what I mean. Big fuss about nothing.’
Holly did exactly as she was told, not just because Elsie quite intimidated her when she got stroppy, but because it was what she’d been wanting to do from the moment she arrived.
She flicked through the admissions forms, trying to disguise her concern at what she was reading. Mini-strokes were like the little tremors before the big earthquakes and not something to be ignored or belittled. It was one of the reasons she insisted on calling them that. A TIA – a trans-ischaemic attack – didn’t have quite the associations of severity that the word ‘stroke’ instilled. And to be fair, Elsie’s stats on admission had Holly worried, even if her patient was now seemingly back on her usual acerbic form, albeit with a slightly more painstaking delivery.
Elsie epitomised the very opposite of most of her patients – the Worried Well wanted to have constant reassurance and as many tests as possible, dithering and catastrophising. Elsie belonged to a different tribe: the Stalwarts, Holly called them. They’d lived through World Wars, rationing, losing friends, losing lovers, losing children. They knew exactly how mortal they were, but had no desire to be thinking about it every day, playing out the worst case scenario. Living every day to the full was their creed; Elsie could well have been their leader.
Holly flicked through the pages of notes, thinking through the best way to approach the next few moments. There was a lot of information in here that was news to her. The previous attack in Borneo had been more severe than Elsie had led her to believe. Holly kicked herself for not reading the signs. The very fact that Elsie had even been prepared to take the anticoagulants, when she was a self-proclaimed non-believer in medication’s efficacy, preferring gin and an early night.
‘Did they run any scans in Borneo?’ Holly asked Elsie, flicking through the file.
At this, Elsie’s patience wore out. ‘Of course I wasn’t going to go for scans. It was the middle of the fucking jungle, darling! Why do you think I came home, hmm? Why do you think I left Barry to play footsie with that ghastly American? I’m old, sweetheart. Things hurt when you get to this age, all the time. It’s the price of staying alive. Now, don’t bullshit me. If we’re going to be having this tiresome conversation, let’s at least have it without the sugar coating, shall we? What does it say on your little clipboard there?’
Holly sat back, a little blown away by the outburst. She’d known Elsie long enough to realise that this anger wasn’t directed at her. If anything, it was Elsie’s way of dealing with The Fear. And, had she needed further proof of that, Elsie reached out and clasped Holly’s hand tightly.
‘I came home to see you, Holly. Now, stop looking all Bambi-eyed and tell me what’s going on.’
They spent the next few moments in silence, as Holly gave her a thorough once-over herself. It probably wasn’t hospital protocol, but for once Holly didn’t care. Her touch was gentle and she left nothing to chance, double-checking everything all over again before she spoke. When she did, it took all her strength to remember that hers was the professional voice of reason that Elsie had flown so many miles to hear.
‘There’s noticeable weakness on your left side, but you can feel that. There doesn’t appear to be any loss of vision and you’ve clearly still got your marbles – that’s a technical term.’ She attempted a smile. ‘I’m a bit worried about your speech, but you seem to have reasonable control. But obviously we both saw what happened when you tried to have a drink. If you want my honest opinion, you should stay here and get all your tests done, all at once, and then when we get you home, we’ll organise some live-in help – just temporarily – and a little speech therapy.’ Holly frowned. ‘So, there you have it, my professional opinion.’
‘I did wonder,’ said Elsie calmly, as though none of this was news.
‘From a personal point of view, however, I’m just so glad you came home . . .’ Holly threw her arms around Elsie and hugged her. ‘Now, please let us look after you. Properly. No bullshit.’
‘Oh darling,’ protested Elsie. ‘The bullshit is what makes everything so much fun!’
‘Are you having fun now?’ asked Holly sternly.
‘Not so as you’d notice . . .’ muttered Elsie, as though it were Holly’s bossing that was putting a dampener on things. She smoothed the sheet with her hands and suddenly looked every one of her eighty-four years.
Holly kissed her forehead softly. ‘Get some sleep. I’m going to find a doctor and get a few wheels in motion.’ She tried to keep her voice even, with no outward sign of how distressed she was feeling. This had been another close call, but Holly refused to believe that life could be so cruel as to let her find Elsie, to make her part of their makeshift topsy-turvy family, and then snatch her away again so cruelly? The notion of sou
l-mates had always seemed a little bizarre to Holly, but her sense of contentment around Elsie had given her pause – the connection between them was almost tangible in its strength and Holly felt shattered at the very notion of life without her.
For once, Elsie did not complain, did not bluster, didn’t even try to tell Holly she was doing things wrong; she simply sat back and let Holly take control of the situation, almost as though it was exactly what she’d been hoping for.
Chapter 19
Holly sat at her desk the next day, scrolling her mouse through all the latest research she could lay her hands on. It was the waiting that was so drainingly difficult, she thought, and then immediately chastised herself. Depending on what the scans showed, the waiting might yet be the easy part. Thank God she’d had the day booked off already yesterday – she felt bad enough about not being there when Elsie had collapsed; at least holding her hand as she got wheeled around from department to department had assuaged some of the guilt, even if they had been forced to sedate Elsie just to stop her talking in the CT-scanner.
She checked her e-mails again, hoping that the consultant in Bath had found time to review the images. Her latest e-mail to Milo was still sitting in her drafts folder, she noticed, unsent and forgotten. She only paused for a moment before sending it straight to the trash. If she was going to make an effort to move on, this kind of emotional drain was only going to hold her back. She was surprised at the tiny wave of release that she felt. It was only a virtual trash can, but sending all that toxic junk there still felt pretty good.
Applying the same strategy to the open pages on her internet browser, she closed down The British Medical Journal, she closed down The Lancet and she closed down a Google search for TIA research programmes. All of this research was premature, until they knew exactly what Elsie was dealing with. They would stagger over that particular bridge when they got to it, knowing Elsie, wearing fabulous shoes and with a strong Pimm’s to hand.
With a waiting room full of patients and a splitting headache, she knew that playing out scenarios wasn’t helping. She cradled her head in her hands, elbows wedged on the desk and tried to take a moment, before the madness of the working day began, just to be.
A small snuffling sensation against her leg brought her out of herself and she looked down to see Coco sitting beside her, brown eyes wide and one fluffy paw resting on her leg. Coco blinked twice and her eyes truly seemed to be a window to the little dog’s soul, as she somehow managed to make Holly feel as though this small spaniel completely understood her sadness.
And of course, wherever Coco went, there was Alice not two paces away. Holly was pretty sure it was supposed to be the other way around, but to be honest, she wasn’t convinced that it wasn’t Coco who was running the show sometimes.
Holly reached down, after getting the nod from Alice that it was okay to give Coco a little attention.
‘How’re you doing this morning?’ Alice asked, her gentle Scottish burr reminding Holly of the matron at her school and imbuing her with an immediate sense of being cared for. ‘I gather you had a tricky day yesterday.’
Holly nodded. ‘Waiting on some results this morning, so I guess we’ll know soon enough.’
It was to Alice’s credit, thought Holly, that she didn’t rush to smother Holly with empty platitudes, but in the way of those who had experienced this rollercoaster first hand, she simply offered her support, by way of actually being there.
Coco was in her element, having a little break before her own working day recommenced and she rolled around on her back with her tummy in the air. ‘It’s just as well your Eric isn’t here,’ said Alice with a grin. ‘I think he’s harbouring quite the unrequited crush. I bumped into him with Lizzie in the park this morning and he made a complete spectacle of himself. He kept bringing her sticks and following her around.’
Holly laughed at the very notion of brash, exuberant Eric surrendering his cool quite so willingly for a silky pair of ears. As Alice filled her in on their morning walk and all the latest news from the dog-walking community, Holly could feel herself relaxing. Apparently Dishy Dad – the local lothario amongst the yummy mummies – had received fairly short-shrift from Alice when he’d attempted to chat her up. ‘I mean honestly,’ said Alice, ‘who would fall for such a bullshit come-on. Credit us with some common-sense! Men!’
Credit indeed, where credit was due, it took another few minutes for Holly to realise what Alice had so easily and expertly achieved: she hadn’t been dwelling on Elsie for their entire conversation. It was becoming increasingly clear that Alice wasn’t just a pretty face, but was in fact the wonderfully skilled and compassionate team member that Holly had been hoping for. Well, that and the fact that she came with a side-order of scrumptious spaniel.
‘And how is Coco finding it, with all the comings and goings here?’ Holly asked intrigued as Alice refitted the little red jacket that signified to everyone – Coco included – that she was back on duty.
Alice flushed a little – the one and only time Holly had ever seen her vaguely off kilter at work. ‘Well, to be honest, I think she’s finding it harder than I expected. I was prepared for it to take some adjustments – new place, new smells, new people – but she’s being a little bit, well, tricky.’ Alice looked utterly mortified at making this confession, as though she were somehow betraying Coco’s trust in her. ‘Bless her though, she’s been perfectly vigilant when it comes to my blood sugar, but every now and again, with certain patients, she’s just been really unsettled.’
Holly watched how the two of them interacted together, like dancers who can predict the movement of their partners from years borne of experience. She thought for a moment. ‘Just out of interest and because frankly I’ll do anything for a distraction today, why don’t you jot down the names of the people she’s funny around and we can take a look over coffee – maybe they’re all smokers, or have dogs of their own. I’m presuming that poor Coco’s sense of smell is so sensitive that if we get Curry-Loving-Larry in, it would basically be torture.’
‘You joke, Holly,’ replied Alice earnestly, ‘but if Coco gets so much as a whiff of garlic bread it can really make her sneeze.’
Holly frowned. ‘Did you just cover her ears when you said “garlic bread”?’
Coco ears shot up and she immediately lay down and put her paws over her nose. It was a Disney-worthy performance and it actually made Holly feel a little choked up. ‘Oh, you dear little dog . . .’
‘You see . . .’ Alice said. ‘Acting bonkers.’ She stood up. ‘Oh, and Holly, will you please have a chat with Maggie. I thought to begin with, that she was just super-hygiene conscious because of the pharmacy and Lucy mentioned, well, Lucy mentioned she has quite a fondness for hand-sanitisers in general. But then I found out she’s been taking antihistamines every day because she has a mild dog allergy and I feel just awful.’
Holly stood up and they walked out into the hallway together, Holly delighting in the gentle thwack, thwack of Coco’s tail against her calf as they walked. ‘Do you know,’ Holly said, ‘I would just let it lie. I’ll discreetly find out what we’re dealing with, but if Maggie has made the choice to quietly deal with this to give you a welcoming start at The Practice, then, to be honest, I wouldn’t want to spoil that. Trust me, if Maggie ever has an issue with you, she will tell you to your face.’
Alice nodded. ‘Okay. I’ll follow your lead. I mean, I hate to think of her feeling unwell but then there’s also the fact that I’m so incredibly touched that I don’t want to seem ungrateful. It’s such a contrast from where I was before, I can’t begin to tell you.’
When Alice talked of contrasts, Holly tried to see it through her eyes. She’d gone from people spitting at Coco in the street, to constantly fobbing off all the local children who came into The Practice and immediately wanted to play with her. They had been forced to develop a ‘greeting routine’ whereby every patient was introduced to Coco and then she was left alone throughout the consultation to
concentrate on her own, very important, job.
Holly half wondered whether it might be this alone that had thrown Coco off her game. ‘Is there somebody you can call for advice about Coco’s training?’ Holly wondered aloud.
Alice nodded. ‘I’m already on the case. They sometimes send a regional trainer out to people when they move house anyway, just in case there are adjustments to be made, but because I’d been staying with Aunty Pru, I didn’t bother to register the move. My mistake, I’m afraid. But somebody called and said the Bath regional trainer is a sweetheart and he’s got me on his list now . . .’ She held up her hand, fingers tightly entwined. ‘Maybe it’s something as simple as readjusting?’ Alice didn’t look convinced.
Holly smiled. ‘You have had a baptism of fire rather, haven’t you? In at the deep end and all that.’
Alice didn’t deny it. ‘Well, it makes sense now anyway, why you need four partners here. You’re never all here at the same time, what with film crews and emergencies and—’
‘Life?’ Holly interrupted, loving that Alice felt comfortable enough to say these things, but knowing that she herself hadn’t yet reached that point in hearing them.
‘Exactly. Life. But then, it’s all about balance, isn’t it? I love that you all still have a life outside medicine. My parents are convinced medicine is the fast-track to spinsterhood,’ she scowled. ‘I’m the black sheep of the family, you see. I should be squeezing out mini-McWalkers by now and making game pie. I’m not sure my mum will ever recover from the shame of having a daughter with a career . . . Still, at least it gives me an excuse not to settle down with the nearest available Laird.’
Holly nodded, thinking that it sounded like an excellent plan, until her attention was distracted by old Gladys Jones in the corridor outside the pharmacy hatch, tackling a large bottle of pills as though her life depended on it. Holly walked over to offer assistance only to see Gladys finally wrench the bottle open and knock back two of the rather large capsules dry.
