by Penny Parkes
‘It’s not marriage stuff; it’s been work stuff,’ Holly protested unconvincingly, knowing as well as Elsie did, that the boundaries between the two were rather blurry in this particular situation.
‘And . . . ?’ queried Elsie, her pique seeming to thaw a little in the light of Holly’s obvious discomfort, conveniently disregarding the fact that she’d hardly been forthcoming herself of late.
Holly glanced around, knowing she’d made a mistake in putting off the inevitable. There was no pulling the wool over Elsie’s eyes, and now they were having this conversation in the middle of a Christening party! ‘And, I’ve been trying to reassess my priorities. You know: mum, wife, doctor, friend, et cetera . . .’
Elsie shook her head. ‘There’s no point trying to make a linear decision – you’re all of those things – and they all overlap. At best what you have there is a Venn diagram. Yes, that’s right, I was paying attention when Tom showed me his maths book.’ She waved her hands around in the air, as though to illustrate the intersecting circles, and sloshed champagne all over her wrist. ‘You’ll end up going bonkers if you try and tease your tangled web apart, you know,’ she proclaimed.
‘Too late,’ replied Holly with a strangled laugh. She paused. ‘Do you ever feel like there must be a Secret Option Number 23 in life, that you just don’t know about yet?’
‘All the time,’ said Elsie seriously. ‘But you know, I think sometimes the best way has to be your way – because you’re the one who has to live with the consequences, you know. So,’ she finally dropped her voice to a discreet level, ‘if there’s a deal-breaker – something that you know you just cannot accept, then you have to give that priority, don’t you? Because everything else is just a question of degree.’ She glanced around the pub for an example. ‘Take young Tilly, for example – so busy striving, questing for the Greater Good, she’s been ignoring her deal-breaker.’
‘Which is?’ Holly asked, intrigued.
Elsie shook her head with a smile. ‘I can hardly tell you, before she’s figured it out herself, now can I? Don’t worry, it won’t affect her work, but I think somebody ought to tell darling Matthew that he’s barking up the wrong tree.’
‘Whereas I’m surrounded by a veritable arboretum of trees – an embarrassment of riches – and I still can’t make up my mind what to do for the best. First World problems, eh?’ said Holly, before visibly giving herself a shake. ‘But we’ve plenty of time to sort me out. Today is about the girls.’
They turned to look at Olivia and Lottie, out cold in their pram, blankets askew and sticky fingers shoved in their mouths.
‘Obviously they’re savouring every moment of it,’ said Elsie drily, but at last, finally, with a warmth and humour in her voice that had been noticeably missing. ‘And look who else is enjoying their day in a party frock.’
Holly slowly exhaled, unaware she’d even been holding her breath on this one, as she took in the scene around the table. Dan, Grace and Lulu, all oblivious to the room around them, deeply involved in a game of Snap that had Lulu shrieking with laughter every time somebody won a round. Her cheeks were flushed a healthy pink and her eyes were bright, clean bouncing hair tumbling from her smart ponytail and traces of chocolate on her dress from her special sundae – she was literally unrecognisable from the pale waif that had arrived in their lives.
‘Oh, that one will be a heartbreaker one day,’ said Elsie shrewdly.
Holly could only hope that Elsie didn’t mean any time soon. From where she was standing, the possibilities for heartbreak were only too obvious.
*
Any thoughts of love, life and Venn diagrams were quickly put firmly on hold half an hour later, as a wave of discontented voices erupted in the bar. Holly looked up sharply, unwilling for any local dramas to disrupt the day. Her heart sank a little as she saw Taffy at the very heart of the dispute. Excusing herself from Elsie’s side and making sure that all of her children were still safely under Plum’s watchful eye, Holly walked towards him.
‘It’s just short-sighted and stubborn,’ Taffy was saying. ‘Almost as if you’re against the idea on principle, just because of who he is.’
‘And maybe you only like the idea because of who he is,’ cut back Cassie Holland, her face red and her fists tightly curled in anger. ‘You and your incestuous little clique – oh so supportive of each other, but do you ever stop to think about the rest of us?’
Holly blinked hard, a little thrown by the vociferousness of Cassie’s ire. ‘What’s going on?’ she asked. ‘This is a Christening after all, not a town meeting.’
The group around her quieted instantly, some of them, like Pru Hartley, looking a little ashamed of themselves, almost as though they’d forgotten why they were drinking mulled wine and eating miniature sandwiches at three o’clock in the afternoon.
‘Connor’s a good guy,’ Taffy said, as he stood up from his bar stool and made to walk away. ‘His intentions are good.’
‘The road to hell is paved with good intentions,’ shot back Cassie, brazenly determined to have the last word.
‘Well, you would know,’ said Taffy over his shoulder, with uncharacteristic bite.
Holly caught his arm as he strode by. ‘Are you okay?’
He shook his head. ‘You know how some days it’s amazing living in such a tight-knit community, where all our lives overlap? Well, today isn’t one of those days.’ He sighed. ‘This is supposed to be our day, but instead it’s just another melting pot of arsy neighbours and intrusive opinions.’
‘True,’ said Holly. ‘But were you honestly expecting anything different? And for every Cassie Holland, there’s a Grace Allen, or a Tilly Campbell – it’s all about balance. Look.’ She turned and gestured towards the children’s table where Dan had now initiated a slightly boisterous game of ‘Who am I?’.
Grace, Tilly and Plum were all dotted around the table with various children on their laps and sticky fingers on their winter finery, faces alight with the easy joy of letting go and embracing their own inner child.
‘Do I like muddy puddles?’ asked Tilly with enthusiasm. ‘Or have a brother called George?’ She made little oinking noises, as she tickled Tom beside her.
Holly cast a glance over her shoulder back towards the bar where tensions were still running high. ‘It’s all about where you choose to focus.’
‘And not just this afternoon, eh, Holls?’ Taffy said, looping his arm around her waist. ‘I think sometimes it’s just easier to see the things I’m looking for.’
Enigmatic wasn’t normally a word she would have applied to her lovely husband, as a rule, and Holly looked up at him in concern, trying to read his expression. ‘And what are you looking for, Taff?’
He shrugged. ‘I don’t know. If I’m honest, I haven’t known for a while now.’
Holly stilled beside him; old habits died hard and she couldn’t deny that, even second time around, married life wasn’t quite the plain sailing she’d been hoping for. She said nothing, waiting for him to elaborate.
‘I just feel . . .’ He paused and his hand tightened on her waist. ‘I just feel as though I’m not doing anything properly these days, as though everything is a compromise. I’m hardly around for the kids, so by extension I’m not really winning awards as Father of the Year. And then you go and get this offer from Bath that knocks any financial contribution from me into the shade . . . Dad says—’ He stopped mid-flow, clearly editing himself.
‘Well,’ said Holly, intrigued, ‘what does your dad say?’
‘It’s not important,’ Taffy mumbled, pulling away slightly to glance back into the bar.
‘It’s important to me,’ Holly countered, ‘especially if it’s making you feel like this.’
Taffy turned to face her, his eyes filled with a disappointment and sadness that took her breath away. ‘I’m failing,’ he said, his voice cracking with each word. ‘I’m not being the husband or the father I wanted to be and I’m letting you down.’
‘Says who?’ Holly said, her indignation getting the better of her restraint. ‘Your dad?’
Taffy shrugged again, his gaze now firmly focused on the spectacle of Dan being an apparently feisty unicorn. ‘I know Dad wants me to be the breadwinner, the man of the house, the kind of dad that keeps all the financial balls in the air so you can focus on the children. And I know that’s how it should be. It’s just, well, it doesn’t feel right to me.’
Holly wove her fingers through his own, until it was impossible to tell where his hands ended and hers began. ‘That wouldn’t feel right to me, either,’ she said gently. ‘And since when do we live in the 1970s anyway? I mean, I love your parents, I do – but have we ever made our life choices according to their beliefs, Taffs? I mean, ever?’
Taffy blinked hard. ‘But I—’
‘But nothing,’ Holly said firmly. ‘We need to build a family that works for us and advice is lovely, but I’m not your mum and you’re not your dad. This is our marriage and our children we’re talking about. I’d much rather hear about the kind of dad you want to be . . .’
Taffy turned away, pulling her with him, ducking out through the door into the pub garden, before any of their guests could see the tears welling up in his eyes. ‘What’s the matter with me, Holls? I never used to turn on the waterworks whenever I felt all over the place?’
‘Ah, well, you can blame Lottie and Olivia for that. Welcome to parenthood. You’ll be crying at the John Lewis Christmas advert this year too, just so you know.’
He sniffed and managed a watery smile. ‘I don’t think I’m cut out to be a seventies dad. Or a husband.’
‘Thank Christ for that,’ Holly laughed, kissing him lightly and tucking herself into his side for both comfort and warmth. ‘Now stop trying to be someone you’re not, or whoever it is you think you should be and answer the bloody question – what kind of dad do you want to be?’
‘I want to be at home with the kids more,’ he blurted. ‘I want to not feel so utterly jealous that you are. I want to be there when they take their first steps, not handing out antibiotics and painkillers. This is just too important to miss. But then,’ he paused and dared to glance down at her face to gauge her reaction, ‘we can’t both be at home with our babies and you do kind of take precedence, you know, as the manufacturer.’
Holly nodded as she took in his emotive words, not to mention his unwillingness to burden her with his worries, and wondered just how long this had been eating away at him. It certainly explained a lot about his moods and behaviour of late. And their relationship: trading logistics instead of endearments had become their new normal.
‘And I guess when you come home and I tell you about how difficult my day has been . . . ?’ she ventured, shivering slightly with both cold and apprehension.
‘Well, that just makes it worse,’ he confirmed.
‘Oh, Taffs,’ said Holly with feeling, ‘what am I going to do with you? We seriously need to talk to each other more. I’ve been finding it so hard, resenting you almost, for getting to be with our patients every day. For managing to keep your professional identity and still become a parent.’
His look of complete bewilderment told Holly enough to reassure her that he had been genuinely oblivious to her concerns, rather than thoughtless or arrogant. In her mind, oblivious was a lot easier to fix.
‘So you wouldn’t mind if I took a little paternity leave and we swapped for a bit?’
‘Mind?’ said Holly. ‘I think it’s brilliant. I think you’d love it. And I venture that you might even appreciate your days at work a little more too.’
He grinned, shrugging out of his jacket and draping it around her shoulders. ‘And you might moan less about your days at home!’
‘I don’t moan . . .’
‘Yeah, right, so you don’t give me a rundown on how many feeds, how many nappies, how little time you’ve had to yourself all day, the moment I walk through the door?’ he teased her gently, rubbing her arms to ease the chill.
Holly paused. ‘I do do that, don’t I? But not because I’m complaining – it’s more that I want you to understand that it’s hardly a picnic. You and the other partners keep going on about “enjoying my time off” – I’ve never been so exhausted or brain-numb in my entire life.’
‘Worse than when you were a junior doctor?’ Taffy said, momentarily blindsided.
‘Much, much worse,’ Holly reassured him with a smile. ‘And now you get to join in too . . .’ she grinned.
‘Will people think it’s a bit, you know, wet – being all New Man about this?’ he wondered out loud. ‘I have no idea what my dad will think of it.’
‘Do you actually care?’ asked Holly gently. ‘If you’re happy and I’m happy and the kids get to build a proper relationship with their dad, does it honestly matter what anybody else thinks? If we actually talk to each other, rather than resent each other, aren’t we in a better position to judge what’s right for our little family?’
‘Not so little,’ laughed Taffy, the relief evident in the crinkle around his eyes.
‘True, but I suspect Miss Lulu might be moving on sooner than you think,’ Holly agreed. She paused, wondering how frank to be. ‘Taffs, I have to tell you, I’m a little relieved. I was worried we were in trouble, you know, you and me?’
‘Me too,’ he whispered. ‘But I don’t want to be. And I feel kind of stupid now, for not talking to you sooner. I was just so busy trying to be the perfect dad, the perfect husband . . .’
‘That you ended up being neither, and miserable to boot?’ Holly suggested. ‘Maybe we should limit your dad’s sphere of influence to woodwork and craft beer?’
‘And sheep,’ Taffy said, nodding. ‘He knows an awful lot about sheep.’ He frowned. ‘You know, it’s just that my parents have always been so happy, and I loved growing up with them, I thought they’d got it right.’
‘There’s more than one way to peel an orange. So, we learn from our mistakes and we make a new plan,’ Holly said, with more confidence than she actually felt.
‘Repeat as necessary?’ Taffy smiled and Holly could only nod, as she breathed easily for the first time in what felt like a very long time.
Chapter 33
‘So you don’t need me anymore?’ said Plum, her hands automatically settling on her hips à la pissed-off-Italian-mama, as she attempted to make sense of what Holly had explained to her over breakfast the next day.
‘Oh no, Plum, that’s not what I said at all,’ Holly replied, somewhat panicked at the thought of losing their very lovely, if somewhat quirky, Italian nanny. ‘Of course we still need you. And we want you to stay. It’s just that Taffy and I will be taking turns to work half-days.’ She paused, formulating her words with care. ‘Although to be honest we haven’t quite worked out the details yet. But, Plum, with five children under five, we can’t do this without you.’
‘This is true,’ acknowledged Plum with a relieved smile. ‘I mean, no disrespect to your husband, Holly, but see this?’ She lifted up Lottie’s t-shirt dress to show that Taffy had also dressed her for the day in a backwards nappy and pyjama trousers. ‘He can learn, though, if he is wanting to. Change is good.’
‘I quite agree,’ said Holly with feeling. ‘And we’ll make it a smooth transition, just as soon as we’ve worked out how.’
‘Sometimes just knowing is enough. Once you get your light-switch moment, you start to feel more relaxed and in control.’ Plum nodded.
‘Light-bulb moment,’ Holly corrected after a moment to work out what she meant.
‘Si,’ agreed Plum. ‘Like when you meet someone special and everything else begins to make sense.’
Holly put down her coffee and turned her undivided attention to the nanny. ‘Do tell,’ she said with a grin. ‘Is it Teddy? Or Matthew?’ She wracked her brains to think who she’d seen Plum chatting with at the Christening.
‘Oh, Holly, always so funny,’ laughed Plum, as though the teasing required no actual answer, and that she ha
dn’t quite grasped Holly’s penchant for matchmaking. She stood up with a dozing Lottie in her arms. ‘I think somebody is ready for a nap.’
Holly nodded and yawned for a moment, before she realised that Plum wasn’t actually referring to her. As Plum sashayed across the room, effortlessly balancing Lottie on one hip, there was a fresh brightness to her step. Holly couldn’t help wondering who had put it there.
An ignoble thought popped into Holly’s head: surely it couldn’t be the prospect of more quality time with Taffy? Please God she was reading that wrong. If anything, Plum was always far more attentive to Holly and her friends than to Taffy and Dan and their noisy rugby rabble. Unless that was the cunning of it, said Lizzie’s sceptical voice in her head.
Holly shook her head, as if to dislodge the disloyal thoughts – Plum had been nothing but sweet, diligent and attentive. Just because she looked the way she did, didn’t mean she was angling to become ‘the other woman’.
*
‘And you’re quite sure about this?’ Taffy asked, as they walked across the Market Place together, their occasional silences no longer filled with unspoken resentment, their gloved hands clasped together. ‘I’ll do a half-day today and you stay on for evening surgery. Then tomorrow we’ll swap?’ He looked daunted and excited at the same time, the extra bounce in his step purely charged by a nervous energy akin to his first day at a new job. Which in a way, of course, was exactly what it was.
After all, his father’s advice had come straight from the ‘1970s Dad’ school of parenting and for all Holly’s hopes and her perfectly logical assumptions that Taffy would be a fully new-age-hands-on father, she’d been sorely disappointed so far.
If only she’d known he was holding himself back, deliberately letting her take the lead . . . Well, she’d have been cursing him less behind his back, for one thing!
‘It’s going to be a learning curve for both of us,’ Holly said. ‘But I have to say, I’m mainly just thrilled that we’re talking about this, you know, rather than letting it fester.’