by Penny Parkes
What did she think? Holly was having trouble remembering her name right now, let alone able to form a coherent response. She was still reeling from the incredibly matter-of-fact way that Elsie had thrown the whole ‘when I’m dead’ bombshell into their conversation.
‘You’re not to get maudlin on me, Holly,’ said Elsie almost under her breath, her voice stern and no-nonsense. ‘There’s only one way I can cope with all of this, so you’re going to have to follow my lead, okay? Stroke – schmoke . . . I shall dance in a lightning storm if I so choose. So, we’re agreed, you can be all soppy on your own time, but then jump on board, would you, darling? I rather need your strength to get through all this.’
Holly nodded. ‘I’m in.’ She couldn’t help but smile as a thought came into her mind. ‘It’s a good job you helped me find my backbone, Elsie, or where would we be? And now I get to help you . . .’
Elsie shrugged. ‘I didn’t do it for the karma, darling. I just fancied being your fairy godmother.’ They both turned to look at Taffy, who was as usual being mobbed by the yummy mummy brigade, but taking it all in his stride. Every few seconds, his eyes would check in on Holly, making sure she was coping and Holly felt incredibly cherished that he would do so without even thinking about it. For the last few years, that had been her role – always with one eye on the twins and constantly alert. Nobody had ever been looking out for her. Until Taffy.
She smiled at him and turned back to Elsie. ‘Well, with a dress like that, you’ll be needing a drink and someone scintillating to talk to.’ She pressed a glass of chilled elder-flower into Elsie’s hand and looked around.
Elsie gave a filthy laugh. ‘This is Larkford, not the Oscars, Holly. Do let’s try not to over-reach.’
Chapter 24
Julia looked around the room: there was no denying that there was a touch of the country bumpkin about tonight’s proceedings and, whilst she should be grateful that they weren’t holding the event in The Kingsley Arms, as suggested by Dan and Taffy, she couldn’t help but see the room through her viewers’ eyes. Would they think it was endearing and welcoming, or would they be a little more discerning and feel only a subtle distaste for the shabby chic look that was somewhat lacking on the chic front?
She checked her watch again and wondered when her mother might deign to make an appearance. Candace Channing was not a woman to be dictated to and Julia felt her palms go sweaty at the very thought of her mother mingling amongst her friends and colleagues, let alone the press. To be fair though, her mother was very good at putting on a show, skilled as she was in the arts of deception and subterfuge.
‘Your mum not here yet?’ queried Dan, strolling over with a teetering pile of cheese and biscuits in one hand and a glass of red wine in the other.
Julia took one of Dan’s cheesy crackers and bit into it, earning herself a shocked look from Dan. ‘Christ, you must be stressed if you’re eating carbs! Look, she’ll be fine – she’ll hunker down with the bridge club and they’ll be talking chrysanthemums and HRT in no time.’
Julia gave him a scathing look – how little did he know of their conversations? The only time Julia had overheard one of their heated debates, it had mainly concerned the quality of their orgasms post-menopause and the ups and downs – as it were – of Viagra! She gave a delicate shudder at the memory and tried to push it from her mind; she wasn’t a prude, she just didn’t want to hear her own mother’s opinion on that particular topic ever again.
Dan misinterpreted her reaction. ‘Don’t worry so. She’ll be fine. And people will be a lot more understanding than you think, if . . .’
‘If what?’ asked Julia sharply. ‘If she makes a spectacle of herself in front of the film crew and everyone we know?’
Dan looked awkward for a moment, his face flooding with relief as Taffy hove into view, munching on a vast chunk of cheddar. ‘Good grub,’ he mumbled, offering the cheese forward to Julia.
She recoiled slightly. ‘This isn’t a Tom & Jerry cartoon – there’s journalists everywhere . . .’
Taffy shrugged. ‘I think they can cope with the sight of me eating cheese, Julia. Is your mum coming tonight? I’m dying for a few childhood anecdotes . . . No? Really?’ He grinned at her and kissed her lightly on the cheek, taking her by surprise. ‘We’re all on your side, Jules. You can relax.’
Dan checked his watch. ‘Well, let’s not relax too much until we’ve done the speechy part, okay. And then, do let’s enjoy the party – we never seem to have any fun anymore . . .’ He looked a little nervous, thought Julia, as he thumbed through the beautifully written file cards that contained his much-practised speech.
Even as she watched, Taffy plucked them from his hands as though to check something and then began to shuffle them. Dan’s reflexes were clearly on delay, as by the time he’d grabbed them back, they were utterly muddled.
‘What the . . . ?’ Dan managed.
‘I thought you said you wanted more fun and spontaneity in your life?’ Taffy grinned mischievously, chomping on his cheddar.
Julia shook her head in disbelief, even as Dan mouthed wordlessly. What kind of a tin-pot organisation were they going to look like now?
Taffy leaned in beside her. ‘Have a little faith, Jules. He’ll be better without his notes. Trust me.’
Julia scowled at him. ‘He spent ages writing that speech.’
‘Exactly,’ countered Taffy. ‘Which is why he would have sounded wooden and rehearsed, whereas this way, he can sound passionate and inspired.’
As Dan moved over to tap on the microphone, his hand noticeably shaking, Julia had to concede that Taffy made a valid point.
‘Well, wasn’t your Daniel, wonderful, darling?’ said Candace Channing as she swept across the room to clasp Julia’s hand, having staged her arrival for maximum effect during the speeches and earned herself a filthy look from Elsie in the process. There was clearly only room for one diva in Larkford and Elsie seemingly had no plans to surrender that easily.
Julia had to confess that Dan’s impassioned and instinctive appeal for support had been really rather magnificent and, to her delight, the local media seemed to be lapping it up. And obviously, it looked like the Health in the Community Scheme was not going to be short of support or funding, which was quite important too, she reminded herself.
She gave her mum an awkward squeeze, unused to such public displays of affection and wondering whether her mum had already been at the bottle. But no, it seemed as though Candace was merely playing the role of supportive mother this evening. She was all dressed up in a retro, Dynasty-style suit and was happily introducing herself to everyone she met as ‘Julia’s Mummy’. Okay, so it was a little cringe-inducing, but it was so much better than any of the scenarios Julia had beta-tested in her mind.
She was so distracted that she didn’t notice Alice coming up to say hello, until little Coco was basically sitting on her foot.
‘That went well,’ said Alice, beaming. ‘You must be delighted. Holly told me how much the whole team were invested in this scheme.’
Julia nodded, wishing that Alice had thought to qualify that the ‘investment’ had purely been emotional and that the currency had been their time. Her mother’s head had shot up like a meerkat out of a hole at the very mention of the word and Julia knew she’d be getting the third degree later, having only recently pleaded poverty when being tapped for yet another loan to her parents.
‘How interesting,’ cut in Candace, ‘and look at your darling little dog.’
Coco shifted impatiently amongst the legs of the crowd. ‘Should you maybe pick her up?’ Julia suggested, not really sure of doggy etiquette.
Alice shook her head. ‘Only if it gets really crowded. She’s normally fine around lots of people, but she’s been really off her game the last few days.’ Alice’s face conveyed the worry that the statement glossed over and even Julia was sensitive enough to know that it must be bothering her.
‘Maybe she’s just avoiding Eric’s painful cru
sh?’ suggested Julia, eyeing up Alice’s Gucci pendant with envy.
Alice laughed and reached down to stroke Coco’s ears. ‘I wouldn’t blame her. He’s become her morning stalker in the park – even ignores the squirrels now and just lopes along twenty feet behind her.’
‘Aw – throw him a bone, Coco. Tell him you can just be friends,’ interrupted Holly as she wandered over with Elsie on her arm. Elsie pointedly turned her back on Candace and started talking to Alice intently, all but forcing a divide in the conversational group, but Candace wasn’t swayed so easily. She pushed forward until she was pressed tightly against Alice, her thirst for information about Julia’s ‘investment’ almost comical.
Coco immediately began yapping and circling around their legs, pushing so hard against Candace that she wobbled for a moment.
‘I’m so, so sorry,’ began Alice, crouching down to pull the little spaniel into her arms. ‘She did this the other day with Malcolm Granger and again this morning with Rebecca Mountley.’
Holly stroked Coco’s ears and soothed her instinctively, making Julia wonder why that thought had never even occurred to her. ‘Is it not your blood sugar alert then?’ Julia asked, intrigued despite herself.
Alice shook her head. ‘Thank goodness the regional trainer is coming down to see us. I think maybe the move has been more upsetting for her than I realised.’
Julia was distracted by the expression on Elsie’s face as Candace talked down to her like a special needs patient and silently applauded Elsie’s ability to look extremely regal in her ball gown, even when holding a plastic cup of elder-flower cordial. Julia was almost sure that her ‘accidental’ spill on Candace’s suit was just an unfortunate coincidence and had nothing whatsoever to do with the caustic comments Candace had been making about over-gilding the lily. She sighed, only too aware that she had surrendered control of the evening the moment Candace had announced her intention to attend. She hated the rather petulant feelings that were overwhelming her, a touch of the teenager rearing its ugly head.
Julia looked around the room, automatically registering the location of every journalist and camera. She could see Quentin circulating with his team, trying to record some vox pops with their guests. Perhaps, if she was really careful, she could make sure that one of those interviews might not be Mummy dearest. Sober or not, Candace was now ricocheting around the room like a loose cannon. For Julia, it was not so much a case of enjoying the party, as limiting the damage that her darling mother might inflict on her career.
Half an hour later, Julia was wishing the whole thing would just wind up and she could go home. Her mood had plummeted with every passing minute, as it became increasingly clear how fragile the whole proceedings might become.
‘Are you nearly done for the night?’ she asked Quentin, hating the coquettish tilt to her head, but knowing it was the only way to get him on board. ‘It’ll be all downhill from here. Once they start talking about crop rotation and milk yields, that’s it for the night!’ She laughed gaily, knowing that Quentin hated two things in life: being bored and feeling that he was missing out on something. It was incredible to Julia how often he was prepared to endure the first, on the off-chance of avoiding the second.
He looked at her sharply. ‘And are we just saying that because you want to go home, or because Daniel Dearest has had enough?’ His gaze was steady and calculating and Julia flustered for a moment, in itself a sign that all was not well in her world. ‘Choices, choices, Dr Channing. The clock is ticking on your little party in Bumpkin Land.’ He leaned in and kissed her cheek. ‘Just a few more little interviews – maybe a little glamour in the proceedings? Calm down – I’ll be tactful . . .’ He sidled away through the crowd, making a beeline for her mother and she felt physically sick. She also knew Quentin well enough to be aware that the more fuss she made, the more determined he would be.
Her gaze flicked distractedly across the room to where Holly was now chatting amiably with the journalist from The Sunday Times. It was all very well Holly bringing her own brand of relaxed camaraderie to the proceedings, she thought, but for Julia this was a professional opportunity that she was missing. Dan appeared at her shoulder. ‘We need to talk about your film crew,’ he said firmly.
With hindsight, she supposed it hadn’t been the best idea to have her film crew from Doctor In The House on a completely free rein here tonight. It certainly hadn’t been a well-considered move to have the camera man standing so close to Dan during the speeches that all the other guests had seen was the back of the cameraman’s head. But Dan didn’t want to hear the reasoning, wasn’t interested in learning that upfront camera angles made the speaker appear more statesman-like and authoritative. No, he was more worried about whether Mrs Dawes from the newsagent’s had been able to see properly.
‘Are you even listening to me?’ Dan demanded when he’d finished outlining his grievances and Julia fought the urge to stick her lip out petulantly.
‘Are you even listening to me?’ she countered, with the party in full flow around them and oblivious to the odd looks they were getting. ‘Opportunities like this are gold dust, from a PR perspective, and you’re happy to let Holly-Go-Lightly over there be the main point of contact. I know you’re angry with me, Dan, but surely it can wait, because this can’t.’
Dan looked at her in disbelief and Julia felt herself shrivel under his scrutiny. ‘I thought you liked Holly?’
‘I do, of course I do, but surely you can see that . . .’
‘That she almost single-handedly came up with the campaign to save The Practice and put it into action? That she handles whatever this job throws at her with dignity and without the need for constant validation? That she, somehow, manages to do all of that whilst raising two small children and building a new relationship?’ He shook his head. ‘What is it you’re looking for, Julia? Because, honestly, this obsession with being in the limelight is getting a little old. If your friends and colleagues and patients think highly of you, isn’t that enough? If we’re in this together, building a life, isn’t that enough?’
Julia reached out for his hand, but whether deliberately or not, Dan moved to run his hand over his stubbled scalp instead. ‘I understand the need for PR. I do. But you knew how important this evening was to me, Jules. You knew I didn’t want it turned into a media circus.’ He waved his hand around the room and Julia swallowed hard.
Seeing the world through Dan’s eyes was always a humbling experience. Now she looked closer, she could see how many of the locals were shying away from the camera and sound boom that marauded through the room like sharks. They huddled in small groups, resentfully editing their conversations as the TV crew passed by and looking anything but relaxed. There were, of course, always a few chatterboxes, delighted to have their moment in the spotlight, but invariably they weren’t especially eloquent or interesting. The real gems, the locals with lots of insights to share? Well, they were the ones staying firmly out of shot.
‘I think they’ve probably got enough for tonight,’ said Julia slowly, as close to an apology as she was likely to get on this topic. There was nothing else she could really say, since Dan gave her a scathing look and she scowled back. ‘Look, let’s just call it a day, okay?’
She blinked hard at the expression on Dan’s face, shocked to see his emotions bubbling so close to the surface.
He took her by the hand and led her wordlessly out through the side door to the car park, making sure they stayed tucked out of sight. A free-range doctor in the car park at The Practice was sometimes akin to a cheetah on a safari – in moments, the patients would cluster around, with just one more question they’d forgotten to ask during their appointment, or with another little ailment they ‘hadn’t wanted to bother you with’.
He continued to hold her hand tightly, even as they pressed into the shadows out of sight. The light spilled from the waiting room windows and the sounds of laughter and conversation billowed through the summer evening air. Julia couldn’t he
lp but notice the levity and excitement in the atmosphere, in complete contrast to the intensity that pulsed between them.
‘Is that what you want, then? You’ve made a decision?’ Dan said in a low voice. ‘And that’s how you tell me you want to call it a day?’
‘What—? But, I—’ Julia managed, completely thrown.
‘Well, I can’t say I’m surprised. Quentin told me you’d already decided to take the job, anyway, so it’s not exactly news.’ Dan’s voice was a monotone and he seemed to be fixated on something over her shoulder, unable to meet her eye.
‘What? No, that’s rubbish! Look, if this is one of those bloke things and you want me to do the dumping then just say, because this is making no sense. I thought we’d decided to wait . . . And, no, for the record, I haven’t accepted the job offer. And when I said call it a day, I meant the interviews.’
‘Oh,’ said Dan quietly.
‘Oh indeed,’ Julia replied.
‘This isn’t good, is it?’ said Dan after a moment.
She attempted a smile. ‘Well, we’re not exactly love’s young dream, are we?’
He pulled her abruptly into his arms and kissed the top of her head. ‘Please don’t hate me, Jules, but I just don’t think I can do this anymore. I can’t cope with the uncertainty and the drama and all the while knowing that, deep down, we both want such different things . . .’
‘Do we, though?’ she asked, only the tiny tremor in her voice belying her feelings.
He held her shoulders gently and his eyes searched her face for answers that neither of them could provide. ‘Do you want to stay in Larkford and start a family with me?’ he said gently.
Wordlessly she shook her head, folding herself into his arms for the comfort that she at once craved and feared.
