Snowed in at the Practice

by Penny Parkes

  There was no doubt that the references had been faultless, but still – Holly couldn’t help the frown that shadowed her face as her mind ran through the possibilities. She didn’t dare think that maybe this was one of those cases where the references were too good to be true, just to facilitate an employee to move on. Should she have been trying to read between the lines when Signora Bellaconte had declared Plum to be ‘loving and caring’ or indeed, ‘comfortable with the intimacy and sensitivity required from a live-in nanny’? Should she actually have been getting a reference from Signor Bellaconte as well? Perhaps his definition of intimacy might be a little different?

  ‘Holly? Holly?’ Plum said again, leaning forward and laying a beautifully manicured hand gently on her arm. ‘Are you okay?’

  Holly managed a smile. Plum had done nothing to deserve this suspicion. She’d been utterly focused on the children, and on Holly for that matter. She’d been polite when she met Taffy, but nothing more – no lingering handshakes or coquettish smiles.

  Holly had to admit that there was every possibility that all these concerns might well be her own defence mechanism kicking into play. It wasn’t lost on her that on this, her first day in months with childcare in place, she was sitting in a café with the nanny! Lizzie would blow a fuse if she knew that these were the ‘plans’ that had prevented the spa day she’d suggested. She didn’t plan to tell Taffy at all.

  ‘I thought that was you, Dr Graham,’ interrupted a deep, gravelly voice behind them.

  Holly turned in her chair, offering Plum an apologetic smile. ‘Oh. It’s Mike, isn’t it?’ She craned her neck upwards, the chap from Bath Rugby monolithic in such confined quarters. Only the two toddlers swinging around his legs lent a softness to his otherwise imposing bulk.

  ‘This is Ruby and Jim,’ he offered. ‘I made the rookie mistake of letting them sample The Deli’s hot chocolate on Bonfire Night. I fear we’re now regular customers.’ His chest seemed to vibrate with the timbre of his laughter. ‘And I have to confess, I was quietly hoping we’d bump into you too. I’m not sure how well I actually pitched the job among all the chaos at the weekend. But I’ve spoken with the Board and we’d really like you to come in for a chat.’ He pulled up a chair without being asked, making sure that his children were equipped with colouring crayons as they awaited their hot chocolates. He was clearly no part-time dad, anticipating their every need with the ease born of regular practice.

  ‘Well, it’s a lovely offer, but—’ began Holly.

  ‘Don’t say no until you’ve heard what we’ve got to say?’ Mike cut in. ‘If childcare is an issue, I did mention there’s a crèche on site, didn’t I?’

  Holly shook her head. ‘Actually, Mike, I’m sorry, how rude of me – this is Plum, our new nanny.’

  Mike leaned over and shook Plum’s hand. ‘Lovely to meet you, Plum.’

  Holly watched their interaction carefully, feeling guilty even as she did so. A guilt that only intensified when Plum was just the right side of polite and respectful, before returning to poring over Hattie’s menu, very much casting herself as ‘help’ rather than ‘friend’.

  ‘There’s no harm in having a conversation, is there, Dr Graham?’ Mike persisted, a warm smile on his face that actually reached his eyes. ‘I have to tell you that we’ve been keeping our eyes open for the perfect candidate for a while. The only applicants we seem to get are middle-aged blokes and frustrated rugby players.’ He laughed at his own joke. ‘And I don’t see you falling into either category, to be honest. We need someone with a cool head in a drama, and in all honesty, my boys are never averse to a little maternal care.’

  Holly couldn’t help smiling too; he was so disarmingly charming and had somehow known exactly what to say to give her an out with Taffy and, apparently, Dan – as always, any news that affected her husband being up for immediate debate with his best friend. Of course, she didn’t have a leg to stand on, since Lizzie had been her go-to confidante for as long as she could remember, but still, it would occasionally be nice if they kept some issues just to themselves. She was still mortified to know that Dan had heard all about her seasonal snoring.

  She looked up to see Mike watching Plum appraisingly. She didn’t blame him in the least; it was a bit like having a supermodel in their midst. Even she’d have been tempted to stare at Plum’s natural and uninhibited beauty if she didn’t know her. It was oddly reassuring that Plum seemed almost oddly disinterested in his attention.

  Mike looked momentarily embarrassed, as he tore his gaze away from Plum sipping coffee and noticed Holly’s amused smile. ‘So, any thoughts on joining us, Dr Graham?’

  ‘My husband—’ she began, before catching herself and rephrasing what she wanted to say. ‘To be frank, it’s been suggested to me that having a female doctor on staff at the Club might fall under the same PR umbrella as the crèche? I mean, I’d be delighted if I thought that wasn’t the case, but—’ She paused, remembering Taffy’s scathing reaction only too clearly. His dismissive comment about ‘positive discrimination’ still stung a little, if she was honest.

  Mike shook his head. ‘You need to come and see how we work, Dr Graham. Our crèche is a valuable asset and often fully booked, filled with not just the physio’s children, but our players’ children too. And yes, we’re looking for a female doctor, or a male doctor with a comforting bedside manner, who won’t be distracted by what’s happening on the pitch. Backwards logic, I know, but effective. Some of our new signings are very young, away from home for the first time – they have enough people telling them they’re wonderful; we feel a more nurturing approach is what’s needed.’ He slid a folded piece of paper across the table.

  Holly opened it and her eyes widened in disbelief.

  ‘And, I should mention, that’s your basic salary on five mornings a week.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Holly eloquently.

  ‘And then there’s bonuses, overtime, match pay. So you can probably more or less double that.’

  ‘Stop saying numbers,’ said Holly weakly, her resolve not even to take the meeting crumbling in the face of such financial largesse.

  ‘And there’s plenty more where that came from,’ said Mike. ‘Come and meet the team. Where’s the harm in that?’

  Just then, in that moment, Holly honestly couldn’t come up with a rational answer. Her boys were happy at school, her girls were in the care of an amazing nanny, and her husband? Well, her husband didn’t seem to get why she wasn’t prepared to shelve the last two decades of hard work, in order to play with plastic bricks and pick up his dry-cleaning.

  ‘Name a date,’ she said, swallowing hard to dislodge the ball of guilt that wedged in her throat. Where the hell was Elsie when she needed her?

  Chapter 15

  With Mike’s numbers scrolling through her mind like the credits at the end of a movie, Holly found herself agreeing to Plum’s suggestion that she should take the twins home for their lunch and give Holly a little time to herself. Watching Plum walk away with the pram gave Holly a most confusing jolt of discomfort; being away from her girls was obviously easier to justify in theory than in practice.

  The downpour refused to pass and Holly wandered through the Market Place, attempting to reposition her umbrella to avoid the occasional dart of icy water down the back of her neck. It wasn’t hard to imagine that winter was only just around the corner and with it the girls’ Christening.

  A lone magpie alighted on the church wall ahead and Holly obediently greeted him and his absent wife, becoming increasingly superstitious the more time she spent with Elsie. But truth be told, she felt as though she could do with a sign about now; so many parts of her life had taken on their own momentum that she didn’t really feel as though she were paddling her own canoe anymore. And, as she knew only too well, this was not a situation to be encouraged.

  She slipped into Sally’s fancy gift shop. When in doubt, apply stationery.

  ‘Ooh, Holly, how lovely to see you,’ said Sally with feeli
ng, having noticed the absence of sticky fingers or pram in her wake.

  Sally was a little too particular in her approach to ever make the mums of Larkford feel truly welcome in her emporium of gorgeous delights, even if the children’s gift section at the back was one of the finest in the area.

  ‘I was only thinking about you the other day. Rather missed your words of wisdom at The Practice. That new lass is rather abrupt in her bedside manner, if you ask me.’ Sally looked properly put out and was clearly in the mood to share her displeasure. It was becoming a regular occurrence and Holly couldn’t help but wonder whether she was the only one privy to Tilly’s apparent unpopularity among the female patients.

  Holly had never been more grateful to see Reverend Taylor’s smiling face, as she emerged from behind the greeting cards display in the middle of the shop. ‘Ah, good morning to you, Holly. No nippers with you today?’

  Holly allowed herself to be pulled into one of Reverend Taylor’s all-encompassing maternal hugs and felt herself unclench in the warmth of her friendliness.

  ‘Only in my head,’ admitted Holly as though she were a crazy person. ‘First day with Plum, the new nanny, and I’m having a little trouble adjusting. How I’ll cope with going back to work, I do not know. So far, I’ve spent my first day off having coffee with Plum and now I’ve been banished to have some “quality time”.’ Her disparaging tone made it perfectly clear what she thought of that idea.

  Reverend Taylor just smiled. ‘Right then, no more excuses. You can come back to The Rectory and we can get this Christening organised.’ She dropped her voice to a whisper. ‘I also have one of Pru’s chocolate gateaux from the bakery that might need a little attention, if that floats your boat?’

  Glancing up to see that Sally was still poised for a good moan, Holly wavered before hearing Elsie’s voice in her head: she had asked for a sign, after all. The swift purchase of a new notebook and Reverend Taylor’s pre-emptive refusal to take no for an answer and Holly’s afternoon had sorted itself.

  All she had to do now was confess to Reverend Taylor that, between them, she and Taffy may have been a little disorganised with the invitations to putative Godparents, although she’d had a few intriguing ideas on that front. Hesitation and procrastination had seemingly slipped into their every decision of late. Initially Holly had put it down to baby-exhaustion, but now there was a certain latent ambivalence towards any decision beyond the basic. The more time Taffy spent at work and the more time she was alone at home with the girls, the wider the gap in their ability to function as a team. His reaction to her job offer was a case in point. She turned to Reverend Taylor and took a deep breath. ‘Reverend, have you got time for a chat? Not about the Christening. I just need a friendly ear to talk through some decisions in my future and I really need someone who doesn’t have a vested interest.’

  *

  Two (rather large) slices of chocolate cake later and both Holly and Reverend Taylor had settled into a post-cocoa stupor on the sofa in The Rectory. Dibley the terrier had curled up beside Holly and she stroked his fur on autopilot. ‘So?’ she said after a pause. ‘What do you think I should do?’

  ‘What do you want to do?’ countered the Reverend easily. Nothing seemed to faze her and she was seemingly open to any and all seeking counsel or company. Of course, technically she was Church of England through and through, but still counted plenty of agnostics, atheists and various other denominations among her regular visitors. There was something of the therapist about the way she gently reflected their questions, guiding her visitors towards their own conclusions and she was no easier on Holly. ‘If you had a blank canvas to design your life, where would you start painting? Seriously. Close your eyes and talk me through it.’

  Holly did as she was bid, and not only because the warmth and comfort in the room was so incredibly soporific after such an early start. ‘Well,’ she began, ‘the first part is easy – although I’m not much of an artist.’ She mentally lined up a series of stick men – well, technically, one stick man, two stick boys, two stick babies and a stick lady. ‘It all starts with family. Taffy and the kids, and Elsie.’

  ‘Interesting,’ said Reverend Taylor. ‘What about you?’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘I can’t help noticing that the only person who doesn’t feature in this line-up is you,’ Reverend Taylor said smoothly. ‘I imagine Elsie would have something to say about that?’

  ‘Oh God, yes,’ replied Holly vehemently. ‘Sorry, Reverend.’ She furrowed her brow. ‘Which means the next things I was going to paint are off base too – The Practice, the patients . . . I mean, I’m a mum first, then a doctor, yes?’

  ‘And a wife, a friend, a daughter . . .’ cut in Reverend Taylor. ‘But I actually asked about you.’

  ‘Well, I guess I just define myself by who I am to other people.’ Holly shrugged. ‘Lots of doctors do it,’ she said defensively. ‘That’s not so very awful, is it?’

  ‘Not awful at all; you’re a very lovely mum, wife, doctor, friend, et cetera, et cetera. But you came to me and asked for my help. I’m giving it to you. And ironically I’ve heard you give the same advice to other people so many times: you can’t pour from an empty cup. But why do you think it doesn’t apply to you, Holly? Why do you expect so much of yourself?’

  ‘Oh, it’s never easy, is it? And now I’m judging myself for that too!’ Holly fell back against the sofa cushions, startling Dibley from his nap in the process. ‘I just can’t quite distil what it is that I want, moving forward. I thought I wanted to go back to work, but leaving the girls with Plum, no matter how wonderful and capable she is, has been so much harder than I imagined. And it’s only been a few hours.’

  ‘Holly, would you allow me to be the devil’s advocate for a moment?’ Reverend Taylor asked.

  ‘Is that even allowed?’ Holly whispered with a smile, her eyes automatically glancing upwards.

  ‘I think He’ll indulge me in this. My question is simple – if it had been easy to walk away from your girls this morning, without a backwards glance, how would you have felt about that?’

  ‘Oh,’ said Holly quietly. ‘Oh, I see what you mean.’

  ‘Do you, though? Do you see the impossible standards you’re setting for yourself? Damned either way. If there was one message I so wish I could share with your generation, it would be this: there is no one way to live, except your way.’

  Holly nodded. ‘And I’m assuming you and Elsie didn’t confer or anything?’

  Reverend Taylor shook her head gently. ‘Sometimes we need to hear the same advice over and over until it takes. It’s like the Christian who prayed and prayed to win the Lottery, until even Our Lord himself was forced to intervene and tell him to buy a bloody ticket!’ She chortled happily at her joke. ‘Authenticity is a tricky beast to conquer, Holly. So, let me ask you again: this blank canvas of yours, what does it look like?’

  ‘I need time with my babies,’ Holly said simply. ‘For me, just as much as for them. After all, they grow up fast enough as it is. I think . . .’ She paused, blinking hard, surprised by her own thoughts as they tumbled into clarity. ‘I think that I actually need to work to feel at peace with myself, knowing that I’m out there helping. But maybe that doesn’t have to be at The Practice?’

  Reverend Taylor simply nodded, unwilling to disturb Holly’s tentative train of thought.

  ‘And,’ Holly continued to feel her way, ‘I would never have even considered private practice, until everyone was so disparaging about that job offer. Now, it’s like I’m just being contrary, because suddenly it feels, well, intriguing.’

  ‘Because you want to prove the men wrong?’ Reverend Taylor pushed softly.

  ‘Because frankly the money’s so good, I could work part-time and still contribute my fair share. I mean, I am the majority shareholder in our brood and it’s not really fair that Taffy should pay.’

  ‘Really? And do you think Taffy himself would agree with that statement?’

  H
olly frowned and shook her head. ‘He’d be furious. But, somehow, it’s my guilt. If that makes sense?’

  ‘What about your patients here in Larkford? Would you miss them?’ Reverend Taylor asked, intrigued despite herself.

  Holly’s laugh was a little hollow. ‘I see more of them now than I did when I was working. I certainly get to hear about their lives more!’ She paused. ‘Actually, I say that like it’s a bad thing, but it’s not. Is it?’

  ‘Are you asking me or telling me?’

  ‘Err, both?’ Holly chanced, still hoping on some level that somebody else might have all the answers for her.

  ‘My theology professor at Cambridge always said the same thing to me, Holly, every time I saw him: nobody else can do the work but you. But he didn’t mean essays and coursework, he meant looking in here,’ she tapped her chest firmly, ‘and finding our own truth.’

  ‘Wise old bugger,’ muttered Holly touchily.

  ‘Indeed. People who are right do tend to be annoying, I’ve found.’

  ‘So my “work” would be?’ Holly made air quotes with her fingers.

  ‘Finding out what would feed your soul. Or, in layman’s terms, find out what your goal is and make a plan that gets you there.’

  ‘You know what Elsie would say to that?’ Holly asked.

  ‘A goal without a plan is just a wish!’ they both said in unison and Holly laughed, as the Reverend just shook her head and smiled.

  ‘Goal first, then you can start plotting.’

  ‘It’s daunting though, even thinking about making these changes. Kind of knowing that I might ruffle a few feathers if I do – at home, as well as at work. Scary, really.’

  ‘Well, maybe you need to want it more than you’re scared of it. That’s always the catalyst for me, anyway. I imagine a big set of scales in my head and wait for the balance to tip into action.’

  Holly stared down at Dibley’s sleeping body beside her, her voice cracking slightly, even as she attempted to voice her fears. ‘But what if Taffy doesn’t, I mean, what if he . . . ?’ She swallowed hard, unable to formulate the fear that had shadowed her decision-making without her even being aware of it until this moment.