by Penny Parkes
Milo’s comments about her appearance used to build her up, not pull her down. Lizzie had been extremely vocal on the subject whenever his jibes had been overheard, leaping to her defence unreservedly, so at least she knew she wasn’t imagining it.
Holly sighed. It wasn’t just the comments about how she looked; it was everything she did these days. Milo somehow managed to know exactly how to play her, yet always pulling back just before he crossed that line, leaving her uncertain and confused.
The travel mug of coffee that he had lovingly pressed into her hand with a gentle kiss as she’d left just now was a case in point.
He was an expert at sowing just enough seeds of doubt, just enough to unsettle her, before abruptly changing tack – sometimes she honestly thought she might be going mad.
If it weren’t for the boys . . . Holly shook the disloyal thought away. She’d made the decision to try again and she was damned if she was going to give up without giving this her very best shot. She wasn’t going to let her own insecurities ruin her family. So she might need to make a few compromises; it had to be worth it for her boys to grow up in a secure family unit. Didn’t it?
‘Hello there, Dr Graham!’ called out Marion Gains from across the narrow street, bustling towards them with unstoppable purpose and jerking Holly from her reflections. ‘How are you settling in?’
Holly smiled despite herself. She couldn’t help liking Marion and her kindly interest in every living soul in the town, which spoke more for her maternal nurturing side than for any malicious gossip. As the manager of the little supermarket in town, Marion was basically Larkford’s all-seeing-eye. She knew about pregnancies, diets, minor ailments and visiting relatives before anyone else, simply based on her skilled evaluation of your shopping basket. Who needed market research when you had a Marion?
Marion gave the twins an adoring smile and couldn’t resist ruffling Tom’s hair – she already knew better than to try that with Ben. A few moments of small talk and Marion was off again, heading down the road with the energy and intensity of a woman on a mission.
Larkford was a funny little town in many ways, but Holly had no regrets in moving here, even taking into account the proximity of her formidable mother-in-law. And if ever Jean’s ever-looming presence became too much, Holly had only to walk through the streets of the town to know she’d made the right decision.
Every time she came out of her narrow residential road, whether on foot or by car, Holly would pause for a moment. From this mini vantage point, the hills outlined her view in every direction and the woodland seemed to creep down into the edges of the meadows that surrounded the town like a moat.
Holly took a deep breath, slowly drawing in the crisp morning air, and allowed herself just a moment to indulge. Here, Holly had always felt that her little family would be safe, cocooned from the realities of the outside world. Her own childhood had been rather different and she certainly tried to be selective with her memories, for the most part.
The happier years, before her father, a policeman, had been promoted to the Public Protection Unit, she allowed through. Everything after his death in the line of duty was sharply, brutally, edited, leaving her only with the disturbing echoes, whenever she was confronted with a decision of her own.
It had been an easy choice in the end, between the practice in central Bristol, or moving to a nice quiet backwater like Larkford.
She turned into the Market Place just as the sun burst through the heavy blanket of cloud, unwittingly mirroring Holly’s state of mind. Just as she never allowed herself to think about her father’s passing, Holly mentally filed all thoughts of Milo’s thoughtless comments, and how rubbish he’d managed to make her feel, into the Pandora’s Box in her mind. In Holly’s world, it seemed, nobody had the capacity to hurt her more than the ones she loved the most. She rubbed at her face, her skin taut and irritable, and gave herself permission to draw comfort from her new hometown laid out before her.
There really was something for everyone in Larkford – the statuesque Georgian townhouses at the far end of the Market Place lent a certain elegance to the town and the soaring simplicity of the Norman church provided the perfect relief for the otherwise fussier pastel-coloured terraces that lined each side of the square and led off down the rabbit warrens of residential side-streets that could still get Holly in a muddle.
The acres of wooded parkland, criss-crossed by paths and running trails brought the countryside right into the town. Even the car parks had wrought-iron lamp posts and benches, and a town ordinance from decades before prevented any local businesses using gaudy signs to promote their location. To the tourists’ eyes it was a picture-postcard scene.
But walking the length of the town on a day like today made it all too obvious which end of Larkford belonged to the Haves and which to the Have-Nots. Even though the Pound Shop had a suitably tasteful sign, its very presence was an indicator that not everyone in town could afford the decadently fresh sea bass from Larkford’s renowned fishmonger, Waves.
As always, as she made her way through town, it was the bit in the middle that fascinated Holly, not the obvious issues in the outlying council estate or the genteel wealth of those Georgian town houses. In between lay the residential streets, small shops and offices that spoke of families trying to get by – juggling time and money whilst dealing with the realities of whatever life may throw at them.
The bit in the middle was where Holly lived and she didn’t really think that the tourists swarming through Larkford every summer would have any interest in that at all. But, as far as she was concerned, this was where her patients lived and where her children would grow up and, for her, it didn’t get more interesting than that.
Chapter 6
Holly made it to work on time with moments to spare. Tom had predictably leapt from the pram with boundless enthusiasm, whilst Ben, unsettled by the tension at home, had thrown the mother of all tantrums as she dropped them off at nursery. By mid-morning, Holly’s stomach was growling as if it were lunchtime and she was already feeling drained and exhausted. Being a working mum was all about stamina and the ability to multi-task – Holly was unconvinced she qualified on either front this morning.
She’d already seen a decidedly spritely and well-rested looking chap, who’d come to her desperate for help with his insomnia. Apparently the poor fellow was barely getting seven hours sleep a night! Seven hours! It had taken a super-human amount of restraint for Holly not to give him a piece of her mind. Instead she’d given him a list of suggestions that might help – hot milk, more fresh air during the day, stay away from cheese in the evenings, oh and get a freaking clue!
Okay, so that last one hadn’t been said out loud, but the sleep-deprived portion of Holly’s brain had stepped in and she was aware that she was now muttering ‘seven hours!’ incredulously under her breath at random and inopportune moments.
On the plus side, she felt she’d been sensitive, supportive and skilled in handling several patients with depression, one with horrific acne and had passed no judgement at all on the 70-year-old resident with a raging case of gonorrhoea! She had given him a little pep talk about safe sex, but she feared he’d already nodded off by then.
All in all, it was a slightly different pace to hospital doctoring and Holly was looking forward to finding her feet and getting to know her patients.
She even quite liked the idea of having ‘regulars’ – feeling that she really might be able to make a significant difference to their long-term care. At the hospital, the notion of ‘regulars’ was restricted to Mad Derek (who turned up drunk and bruised at 1 a.m. every Saturday morning, having consumed his pay-packet over the course of the evening and picked a fight) and Pervy Brian (who managed to insert something inappropriate into one or other of his orifices on a weekly basis). Holly was therefore understandably excited by the idea of a gentler pace of medicine.
She also knew that, on some level, her new job wasn’t just about healing her patients. She was
secretly rather hoping that Larkford might also be able to heal her spirit, to give her a much-needed confidence boost that she was a valuable and worthwhile person, whatever her husband may think.
Gradually, the early morning rush had subsided. Grace had forewarned her that there was always a full-on start to the day, as overnight reports of admissions came in to be read, urgent requests for repeat prescriptions were called in, not to mention the ever-looming spectre of triage.
‘All the doctors are on a triage roster,’ said Grace, ‘so it’s completely fair. But to be honest, the triage shift is rather the short straw, even compared to the Tuesday morning Boil Clinic. So it’s best to just crack on and get it done. And do try not to swap shifts around.’
Lucy the receptionist had chipped in then, keen to get Holly on side, ‘It really does work better if we work as a team. I’ll warn you, I’m constantly surprised how rude people can get when they’re asking for help. I know, I know, they’re ill or frightened, but seriously!’
As she spoke, Lucy’s little blonde ponytail bounced up and down. Their petite blonde receptionist may look like the angel that fell off the Christmas tree, but she managed to combine her sweetness with a core of steel. Holly had quickly realised that nobody got by Lucy’s front desk without her express permission, or possibly a severed limb.
Breaking off from their conversation to tactfully deal with whoever was having a nervous breakdown on the other end of the phone, Lucy gave Holly a grin and Holly couldn’t help but respond. There was something intrinsically likeable about Lucy. Even as she then turned to deal with the blustering gentleman at reception, Lucy managed to remain respectful and polite, whilst calmly maintaining the upper hand. Holly was impressed to see this young girl using a firm no-nonsense voice to explain to the patient that turning up at the right time but on the wrong day did not necessarily mean that the doctor could squeeze him in, no matter how much he paid in income tax!
Holly quietly wondered if Lucy might be up for a spot of babysitting – she clearly had the necessary skills.
A few moments later Grace continued the briefing, every now and then earning a supportive nod from Lucy. ‘Every morning on the dot of eight o’clock the phone will start ringing with patients requesting an urgent appointment. Now, more or less every single one of them believe their need to be the greatest, their illness to be the most severe and will be utterly convinced of their right to instant medical attention. The poor soul on triage duty needs to evaluate these calls. Obviously, deal with matters on the phone where you can and then fit the others, the ones that do in fact need urgent attention, into the handful of slots that we hold available. Okay?’ Grace queried before barrelling on, ‘Now, on occasion, you’ll need to make a judgement call to send someone straight to hospital and Lucy or I will help you with whatever calls and admin that entails to smooth the way.’
Lucy swivelled around on her chair and re-joined their conversation, ‘Yeah and whatever you do, don’t swap shifts with Dr Bruce or Dr Channing. Triage duty is the only thing that stops those two being unbearably smug. I’d give them extra shifts if I could, but Grace won’t let me.’ She nodded her head across the office and Holly followed her gaze.
This morning, the triage shift had clearly fallen to Dr Henry Bruce and his mood was none the better for it. Striding purposefully into the doctors’ lounge, he was ruffled to the point that his usually immaculate hair looked dishevelled and the knot in his tie was askew. He looked almost human. ‘Please tell me there’s a decent cup of coffee in this hell-hole this morning?’ he bellowed as the door to the doctors’ lounge swung shut behind him.
‘See!’ said Lucy with a scowl.
‘I see our Dr Bruce has been working on his interpersonal skills again,’ said Taffy, as he wandered through to the front office with his cup of coffee. ‘Morning Luce, morning Dr Graham.’
‘It’s Holly, remember.’
‘I know,’ said Taffy with a slow smile. ‘You look like you’ve been up all night, if you don’t mind me saying. Bad night with the kids?’ he said sympathetically. Whilst he had no desire to populate the world with his own offspring, his sisters’ tribes were cute enough that he could at least claim to understand the basics of child-rearing. He surrendered his own cup of hot, sweet coffee to her without a thought, clearly delighted to cause the flash of gratitude that lit up Holly’s tired eyes and caused the faintest of blushes to colour her pale cheeks.
‘Stinker,’ Holly sighed, too tired to be proud, wincing as she attempted to down the steaming coffee in three large gulps. ‘When one of the twins is asleep, the other one’s awake. I swear the little sod-pots have a rota.’
Holly rummaged in her enormous handbag for something to eat, pushing aside Lego cars, baby wipes and a miniature Buzz Lightyear. Initially discarding the notion of a half-chewed rusk, Holly hesitated as she realised there was nothing else on offer, bar a slightly mangled pouch of mango puree. She hovered in indecision by the bin, the crumbled rusk in hand and stomach rumbling. It was only when Taffy quietly plucked the rusk from her fingers and tossed it into the bin that she realised he’d been watching her and a wave of mortification washed over her.
‘I wasn’t going to eat it,’ she said, defensively.
He just laughed. Not a mean, teasing laugh that made her feel useless and pathetic, but a warm, compassionate laugh that made her feel as though she was a part of the joke and that she was actually funny.
He hopped off the corner of the desk and made the decision for her. ‘Here. Sit down and play with your Lego for a bit,’ he said kindly, pulling out a chair. ‘I’ll bring you a fresh cuppa and a Mars bar in a minute. But I should warn you that I’ll be expecting a turn with your Buzz Lightyear in return.’
Holly’s look of total bafflement only went to show how very rarely she was on the receiving end of such a thoughtful gesture. This time it was Taffy who blushed and he waved away her thanks. ‘It’s my random act of kindness for the day. Look, all done before elevenses. Some days it takes me ’til bedtime.
‘Now while you’re here, let’s talk about getting you up to speed on the office acronyms,’ said Taffy with a devilish grin.
Grace just sighed and pushed back her hair. ‘Holly, you listen to this one at your own risk, okay?’
‘Aw Gracie, you love my notes really don’t you? It’s just so convenient. Here’s a few of my favourites to get you started, okay . . .’
Holly grinned. ‘You may have a bit of competition on that front, Dr Jones. We weren’t short of the odd acronym at the hospital either.’
‘It’s Taffy.’
‘I know,’ said Holly.
‘Challenge accepted then – FFFF?’
Holly thought for a moment, unwilling to show her hand too soon. ‘Female, Fat, Fifty and Flatulent?’
‘Well, I would have said forty, but I guess fifty’s the new forty these days.’
‘Erm, isn’t that completely sexist?’ interjected Lucy indignantly.
‘It is a bit,’ admitted Holly reluctantly, ‘the problem is though, that it’s quite often true . . . What about FTW?’
‘Easy. Fucking Train Wreck! CTD?’
Holly was stumped. ‘I don’t know that one.’
‘There’s a clue here for Lucy if she’s still playing and it doesn’t offend her delicate sensitivities . . . Mr Carlisle . . .’
‘Ooh, ooh I do know that one – it’s Circling The Drain isn’t it? I mean, that guy’s been at death’s door since I started here and that’s three years ago!’
‘And the lady with the fetching ponytail has it! Bad luck there, Dr Graham!’
‘It’s Holly,’ she said automatically.
‘I know,’ he replied, before sliding off the desk and heading back to work, leaving Holly feeling as though something important had just happened.
The tension was palpable in the doctors’ lounge that Friday lunchtime. Not only was everyone forgoing a much-needed break, but there were mutterings and speculations as to why the meeting had
even been called at such short notice. There was a spate of impatient texting, as anyone with a social life scrambled to rearrange their lunch plans.
Holly looked around the room and realised that she still had so much to learn.
She was very much the outsider when it came to understanding the undercurrents and the dynamics in the room. It didn’t take a genius to see that there was tension between Julia and Dan; indeed there was an almost elegant rhythm to the way they managed never to physically cross paths. They seemed to be instinctively aware of one another’s location at all times and when their eyes did occasionally meet, Holly felt as though she was intruding simply by noticing.
The rest of the staff seemed to naturally fall into small cliques and huddles that crossed all the traditional, departmental boundaries and so left Holly feeling very unsure of where she should be.
For example, Lucy the receptionist was perched on the back of the sofa with Dan, Taffy and Maggie the germ-phobic pharmacist. Holly noticed that Maggie had now brought in bottled water to drink, rather than risk the tap water, and that she was deeply engrossed in conversation with both the male doctors in hushed, urgent tones. They were shooting glances around the room that suggested to Holly that it was their own colleagues that were falling under scrutiny.
Henry Bruce seemed to have gained a small female entourage, led by the sartorially challenged young nurse that Holly had met yesterday. The snotty, rude one who’d looked down her nose at Holly – Jade, was it? Holly didn’t recognise the other two girls, although Grace had mentioned something about a senior nurse and a midwife, hadn’t she? The Henry Bruce Appreciation Society seemed to be in full swing and he was clearly delighted to have three such attractive young ladies hanging on his every word.
Smarmy bugger, thought Holly with an involuntary shudder, as she watched him smoothing down his tie and leaning in close to hear Jade’s breathy comments.
Stupid girl, thought Holly, as she watched Jade flick back her hair and laugh, making a great show of checking the time on the little watch pinned to the chest of her nurse’s uniform. Either she really was a bit slow and was struggling with that tricky little analogue watch, or she was loving the fact that Henry was leaning in even closer to help her out.