Practice Makes Perfect

by Penny Parkes

  Taffy shrugged. ‘I might be persuaded,’ he answered with a comedy waggle of his eyebrows. ‘It might be something we should practise for, just in case.’ He leaned in and began to kiss his way along her collarbone in a way that confirmed to Holly what she already knew – they really didn’t need the practice, but it would almost certainly be fun.

  He pulled away to deal with the twins’ increasingly vocal snack requests. ‘Come on, you two, don’t just sit there – let’s get some supplies and take them outside. Can’t have us all prowling around in here driving your mum crazy. Ben, grab the balls. Tom, we need drinks. Come on you two, go, go, go!’

  It didn’t escape Holly’s notice that this nightly kick-about seemed to be just as much for Taffy’s benefit, as for the boys. But at least it meant a moment in peace where she didn’t need to deal with him trying to analyse her every motivation. Taffy’s growing interest in Sports Psychology and its ‘everyday applications’ was starting to drive her a little crazy. Sometimes, she thought, she just wanted to make a decision without questioning the rationale behind it. Like her decision to relocate all the Sports Psychology books to the back of the bookshelf, just for a little respite.

  The baby-thing was, of course, an entirely mental suggestion. If they could barely cope with two boys and two careers, plus a part-time puppy that did insist on growing, how on earth could they add another member to this fragile equilibrium? Not to mention the fact that Taffy would almost certainly want to do the right thing and put a ring on her finger . . . The thought that another baby was even a consideration flagged up just how deeply she had fallen in love with him; the very thought of the vulnerability that signified, utterly terrified her.

  She shook her head in confusion – how could she feel so certain of their relationship and yet so utterly unwilling to commit?

  Holly sipped at the glass of soft Merlot that Taffy had pressed into her hand, as he fashioned sailing boats from apple quarters and strips of gouda and the boys gobbled them as fast as he could make them. They seemed to be recreating an horrific storm in The America’s Cup, with a fair number of gruesome casualties that were certainly not PG.

  She sighed contentedly, a quiet family evening the perfect end to another chaotic day. She wondered how Hattie and Lance were enjoying their romantic date and her phone buzzed in her jeans pocket even as the thought crossed her mind – she pulled the phone out, expecting a silly thank you text from Hattie for the fizz. She froze, staring at the glowing screen as her stomach swooped ominously, her fingers shaking as she opened the message and her fears were confirmed.

  You certainly didn’t waste any time . . .

  She may not have recognised the number, but there was no doubt in her mind who had sent the text in her hand. She obviously hadn’t been the only one reading the online editions this morning and Milo’s obsession with Google Alerts was still apparently going strong. The phone vibrated once again and a second message followed on, jarring into her comfortable reality with intrusive precision. Seemingly unable to stop herself, she clicked on the screen to scroll down.

  So it seems you’ve been busy at work and at home – not sure I like that – perhaps it’s time to visit my boys? I’ll be in touch.

  The cold shiver of dread and nausea that the text had triggered might be seen as an over-reaction to some, but not to Holly. It was the targeted hit that had so shaken her, she realised. She knew Milo’s bullying ways; she knew too that he must have been reading every one of the e-mails she’d sent him. But for Milo, power was his fuel and in a way, a text out of the blue, into the security of her evening, was much more his style than simply hitting ‘reply’. His passive aggressive way of reminding her who called all the shots in their relationship.

  There wasn’t even an obvious threat, just a casual allusion to a visit.

  That was all.

  But it was enough.

  She sat back heavily and closed her eyes. Only an arrogant narcissist like Milo, who believed he was the centre of the known universe, could talk about ‘his’ boys after abandoning them quite so comprehensively for months on end.

  Was it any wonder she was so reluctant to consider marriage again, when being happily un-married with Taffy was the best relationship she had ever had?

  Chapter 26

  Dan tapped the final figures into the calculator on his phone and a slow smile spread across his face. In the few days since the launch, numerous pledges had added to the ever-growing funding for the Health in the Community scheme. He wasn’t sure of the logistics of how Grace had managed to pull together the updated website in such a short time, or the clever link to the Just Donate account, but the numbers spoke for themselves. He looked across the desk at her glowing face and knew that she was chuffed to bits with their achievement.

  ‘Thank you, Grace,’ Dan said with feeling. ‘It’s one thing suggesting that people donate, but I’m convinced that they’re more comfortable doing it online than putting cash in a bucket these days.’

  Grace nodded. ‘Look – there’s a hundred quid from Waves the Fishmongers. They wouldn’t do that with cash.’ She paused. ‘You don’t think they’re hoping the whole eat-more-oily-fish message will be good for sales, do you?’

  Dan laughed. ‘Do you know, I rather think they might be and just this once, I’m happy to oblige. We’ll be fair though.’ He dropped his voice until it sounded like the voice-over in the financial advertisements, ‘Other purveyors of seafood are available locally.’

  They were distracted from the screenful of figures by the sound of muted crying. Grace was on her feet before he’d even hit save and they both hustled out into the hallway. They stopped, confronted by Alice sobbing into the shoulder of possibly the tallest, most handsome figure of a man that Dan had ever encountered. He felt like a stumpy goblin beside him and that was not a feeling Dan was used to. With both Grace and Alice beside him, this guy looked like an old-school Olympian.

  ‘Dan, this is Jamie,’ Alice managed. ‘He’s come about Coco.’ She took the tissue that Grace offered and sniffed, obviously mortified to be baring her emotions at work.

  Dan looked down automatically, noticing straight away what was missing in this tableau. He swallowed hard, shocked by how overcome he felt. ‘Oh Alice, no. Poor Coco! What’s happened?’ He couldn’t help but assume that only the very worst could have separated Coco from Alice’s side.

  Jamie held out his hand to shake Dan’s. ‘Don’t worry, mate. The little dog’s okay, if that’s what you’re thinking. She’s just a bit off her game at the moment.’

  ‘Then . . . why the . . . I mean . . .’ Dan was trying to find the most tactful way to ask what the hell Alice was crying about, when Jamie stepped in.

  ‘Alice has just found out that if Coco can’t fulfil her role properly, then she may need to have a different dog that can,’ Jamie said gently.

  Even hearing the news again was enough to make Alice bury her head in his chest and sob. Jamie didn’t miss a beat, he just allowed Alice to cry. ‘It’s not an unusual reaction,’ he said to Grace and Dan. ‘The bond with an assistance dog is an incredibly intimate one. It’s perfectly natural to be grief-stricken at the very thought of losing her.’

  As Alice rootled around in her pockets for a handkerchief, Dan saw the crest on Jamie’s waistcoat. So this was the much-vaunted dog trainer that Holly had been talking about. As one of the partners, he couldn’t pretend it was ideal that the new addition to The Practice was having so much trouble settling in. And he didn’t mean Alice. When they had taken the decision to hire Alice, Coco was part of the package and as such, she was one of their team now. When the regional visit had been suggested, Dan had simply assumed . . .

  Well, what had he assumed? Coco wasn’t a machine. They couldn’t call in IT support and reboot her to factory settings. The human angle in all of this had somehow passed him by, namely that Alice viewed Coco as her lifeline – her entrée back into the world of work and a huge factor in her having the confidence to move here
and live alone. God only knew how she would cope without Coco. It was shocking to see her stripped of her composure.

  Jamie leaned back against the wall, one leg bent at the knee, with his foot on the wall behind him. It was a pose that suggested he was completely at ease with all this emotion flowing around him. Dan only wished he could say the same; just the sight of Alice’s tear-stained face was enough to make him feel out of his depth.

  Once Alice had regained a little control, Jamie gently went on to explain his plan. ‘Look, Alice, we’re not there yet, so don’t get ahead of yourself. Obviously Coco has a job to do, keeping an eye on you and your blood sugar, and at the moment she’s still doing that. It’s the question of her distraction that’s bothering me. Are there simply too many people coming and going, too many new smells? Will she settle down once she’s realised that this is your new routine now?

  ‘I’m going to spend the next few days here, if I may,’ said Jamie, ‘watching Coco in her work environment and assessing her home situation. If there’s something bothering the little tyke, I’ll find out what it is.’

  Right now the thing that seemed to be bothering Coco was being separated from Alice, as her plaintive whines could be heard from the other side of the door. ‘I didn’t want her to see me upset,’ clarified Alice. ‘I suspect she knows what I’m thinking half the time.’

  ‘I have no doubt of it,’ Jamie said with a smile. ‘You two have a pretty tight bond. We’ll do everything we can to keep you two together, okay . . .’ Even the implication of the alternative was enough for Alice’s eyes to fill with tears again.

  Grace opened Alice’s door and a little brown bundle of fur hurtled herself into Alice’s arms. ‘She’s a dog with remarkable hearing. She could tell you were upset from a hundred yards away.’

  Dan gave a small wave and edged back into his office; he wasn’t sure how much more of the heightened emotions he could take. After all, his verbal filters were clearly switched to ‘off’ today and he didn’t think it was wise to tempt fate any further. As he switched on his computer to get ready for his clinic, he noticed three missed calls from Julia’s mum, who clearly hadn’t got the memo about their break-up either. He sighed, unwilling to get pulled into yet more drama and quietly typed out a text to Julia. Keeping a secret in Larkford was never easy, but in their close-knit working world, it was well-nigh impossible. The only thing worse than breaking up with her though, would be stealing her news-cycle by letting it slip. Giving her the opportunity to break the news was the only honourable thing to do.

  Dan’s day seemed destined to be populated with the overwrought and emotionally incontinent. He held Jake Norman’s hand as he cried about losing his sight, Kerry Langley had a panic attack right there in his office and Percy Lawson had predictably come off his motorbike and given himself one hell of a scare.

  Dan pulled open his desk drawer and checked the office sweepstake form – he himself had lost out on the jackpot when Percy had managed to avoid a motorbike accident for the first two days. Holly and Taffy likewise at two weeks. Obviously Lucy, their receptionist, had been a lot more optimistic about his chances and had scooped the prize out from under them all.

  He sighed as he saw the next name on his patient roster: Lindy Grey.

  Dan clicked on the computer screen to pull up the relevant file and his heart thudded hard in his chest. Today was not the best day for him to run into Lindy. Tiny Lycra shorts and perfect body or not, Lindy was definitely best kept at arm’s length. After their ill-advised series of hook-ups last year, she had been distant at first, shying away from the commitment that Dan actually wanted. Friends with Benefits was her preferred scenario and one that she continued to suggest, even once it was clear that he and Julia were back together. Seeing her now, while his break-up with Julia was so fresh and sore, not to mention apparently secret, was less than ideal. The only way he’d managed to shrug off her advances without causing offence over the last few months had been the slightly nauseating glow of infatuation that followed him and Julia everywhere.

  Today, he was looking tired and pissed off, not to mention questioning the wisdom of ever having reconciled with Julia in the first place. Breaking up once, they’d survived. Wondering how this latest schism would affect their working relationship was making his brain hurt and was not best followed by Lindy Grey in a lacy ensemble, he thought. He really did not need any beautifully tanned, lithe and lean thighs to examine this morning. Still, he consoled himself, maybe she’d come in with some hideous facial warts, or putrid discharge and just happened to have come straight from the gym.

  ‘Hello, Dr Carter,’ Lindy said as she walked into the room, settling neatly on the edge of the chair. ‘I know you’re running late, so we’ll have to catch up over lunch one day. But in the meantime, I seem to have a touch of asthma.’ Without a moment’s hesitation, she peeled off her t-shirt and calmly waited for Dan to locate his stethoscope.

  She ran a hand over her chest, where the gauzy bra she was wearing was barely doing its job. ‘Do you need to listen to my chest? It just keeps getting really tight and constricted when I run.’

  Slowly and professionally Dan listened to her chest, front and back. ‘And the wheezing and tightness only comes on with exercise?’ he queried, before running through their standard presenting-with-shortness-of-breath questions. Dan managed to keep their conversation to the strictly professional but Lindy wasn’t making it easy for him, sitting there in her underwear, leaning forward every time she spoke and repeatedly laying a hand on his forearm suggestively. Dan wasn’t blind to Lindy’s intentions and the air in the room was thick with unspoken thoughts, as she skirted around making a blatant proposition.

  By the time she held a prescription for a new inhaler in her hand and the promise to return if there was no improvement had been elicited, Lindy was looking thoroughly sulky.

  Dan heaved a sigh of relief as she left, pleased to have held a certain sang-froid together, knowing he wouldn’t have been human not to feel a small flicker of temptation. He was only too aware how simple things with Lindy had been – she was the ultimate no-strings hook-up. But then, he also reminded himself, their ‘relationship’ had left him feeling vulnerable, disconcerted and wanting more – not marriage and babies per se, just maybe a movie and a meal . . . Even a conversation occasionally would have been nice.

  Besides, he told himself, it was all irrelevant now; amongst all the drama and flirtation, Lindy and Julia were cut from the same cloth. Besides, Lindy had become his patient. Even if she was clearly giving him the come-on, which she so obviously had been, it was the golden rule of medicine – don’t flirt with the patients.

  Not for the first time this morning his thoughts turned to Grace and her quiet but steady transformation: no bells, no whistles, just an incredibly kind, dedicated member of their team getting her life back on track. Nobody would ever claim that kindness or thoughtfulness were sexy, thought Dan, but right now the notion of a warm, supportive partner like Grace felt like the Holy Grail. He sat back in his chair, a little thrown by where his thoughts were heading. Had he really just wondered what it would be like if Grace were in his life? Grace? The very antithesis to Julia in every sense?

  He picked up his phone. It may only be lunchtime but there really was only one thing to do.

  ‘Taffy?’ he said. ‘Pub?’

  Chapter 27

  A few days later, as the sun beat down on the banks of the River Lark, and children’s laughter could be heard echoing around the Market Place, Holly was at work, sympathetically listening to Molly Giles’ recount of her trip to the supermarket. She was overwhelmed with compassion for this poor woman’s plight but felt utterly impotent as to how best to help her. This was yet another one of those times when the funding fell short.

  ‘And so then one of the shop assistants said, “Just ignore her, she’s probably drunk” and they left me there,’ said Molly, the anger and frustration so clear on her face. ‘And I tried to tell them, Dr Graham, like w
e talked about. I tried to say I had Parkinson’s but the words came out all slurry and they just laughed and told me to lay off the sauce!’ She twitched and her left arm flailed for a moment against the arm of the chair. ‘It’s bad enough that my new boss keeps calling me Sourpuss . . .’

  Holly couldn’t actually begin to imagine anyone being that insensitive, but it seemed to be a pattern with these invisible disabilities: people seemed to believe that they could say what they liked, without consequence, as though Molly had stopped having human emotions on the day of her diagnosis.

  It was hard enough for this woman already: her children, thank God, were already settled at university, but her husband of twenty years had found the notion of early-onset Parkinson’s just too much to deal with and left. Just another statistic, where the women stood by their men if they became ill and at least half the husbands bailed. It fed into every one of Holly’s insecurities about abandonment and she reached out and took Molly’s hand.

  ‘Would you like me to write to your new boss? I could explain the situation from a medical point of view if you think it would help?’

  Molly shrugged and a muscle began ticking above her eye. ‘I told him about the muscles in my face going slack – that I can’t smile any more – but he just said it wasn’t the only thing that was slack about my performance at work these days.’ Her eyes looked thunderous and filled with pain, but her face was strangely immobile – and therein lay the problem.

  Molly didn’t look ill; she didn’t look disabled. Most of the time she just looked like everybody else – tired and a bit grumpy. Holly had been aghast to hear that one of the local pensioners had even had a go at her for using her Blue Badge for parking. She wondered how often in a day Molly heard those crucifying words, ‘But you don’t look ill . . .’