Out of Practice

by Penny Parkes

  Dan coloured immediately. To be honest, he hadn’t really got his head around last night. He couldn’t really complain though, could he? To Taffy The Player of all people? He’d basically been offered the Holy Grail – no strings attached, amazing sex with a beautiful girl. The problem being, of course, that he now felt a bit of a girl himself. A bit ‘used and abused’.

  ‘Nah, just pulled a shoulder, I think,’ he said evasively.

  ‘I have absolutely no sympathy, mate,’ Taffy laughed, not missing a trick. ‘If you spend the whole night doing unspeakable things to that gorgeous girl, you shouldn’t really expect any.’

  Dan attempted to shrug, but flinched as the pain spasmed through his shoulder.

  Taffy sat down beside him and handed over his bottle of isotonic drink. ‘Drink that and stop moaning, you big baby. And then I’m going to want details.’

  Dan shook his head. ‘No details.’

  ‘Aw crap, that means you actually like this girl, doesn’t it? When you go all cagey about privacy, it’s game over. Can I at least ask whether she’s as sporty in the sack as she is on the track? I heard she’s got proper juice from my mate at the Harriers.’

  Dan raised one eyebrow. ‘Your mate at the Harriers? You mean Brian the equipment guy? Yeah. I’m sure he’s the font of all knowledge.’

  Taffy took back his drink and stood up. ‘Well, if you’re going to be snooty . . .’

  ‘Look, Lindy’s great – the full package really – and we had an amazing evening. We just, well, let’s just say we’re looking for different things.’

  Taffy groaned sympathetically. ‘Got all clingy, did she?’

  ‘Not so’s you’d notice, no.’

  Dan’s abrupt tone and his obvious discomfort conveyed the situation more clearly than anything he might have said.

  ‘Oh,’ said Taffy quietly. ‘Bad luck, mate. To be honest, I probably should have warned you. She does have that reputation. I didn’t realise you were thinking “relationship” – I just thought a decent shag would do you good!’

  ‘Jesus, Taffy. Easy on the tact there – you don’t want anyone accusing you of political correctness. Anyway, the sex was more than decent. Although, by the sound of it, she’s had plenty of practice.’ He sighed. ‘I just couldn’t get my head in the game. Too much whizzing around up here.’

  Taffy perched beside Dan on the tailgate of the car and let out a deep breath. ‘Don’t worry about it, honestly. It happens to all of us and you’d been knocking back the cider a bit so . . .’

  Dan’s laugh was short and a little bitter. ‘There’s nothing wrong with the hydraulics. Just my stupid brain. Couldn’t stop thinking about other things. There she is – gorgeous by the way – doing the nasty and I couldn’t stop thinking that I’d really fancy a sandwich!’

  Taffy grinned. ‘What kind of sandwich? Are we talking roast beef, horseradish and a little rocket?’

  ‘Nope,’ said Dan disgustedly. ‘Not even a fancy sandwich – just cheese and that pickle that Julia used to buy with the little sultanas in it. I’m a disgrace to my gender, Taffs, I really am. And then, next thing you know, she’s dressed and off, leaving me feeling like . . .’

  Taffy took back his drink and drained the bottle, tossing it over his shoulder into the chaos of Dan’s car. The very fact that Dan didn’t bat an eyelid was further evidence of his wobbly state of mind. ‘Now don’t bite my head off, but are you sure that thinking about Julia’s chutney, of all things, might not have been a Freudian what’s-his-face? You know, you were actually wishing you were in bed with Julia? And, as for the rest, stop kidding yourself. You’re a Serial Monogamist. Always have been.’

  ‘And leopards never change their spots?’

  ‘Well, I wouldn’t say that . . . I’m practically a reformed character these days.’

  Dan gazed out over the river bank, letting Taffy waffle on. He wanted to listen, but just as last night, his mind took him off on its own little safari.

  Dan leaned back and sighed. ‘Taffs, with all due respect, mate, shut up about Holly for thirty seconds would you. I’ve had a bit of an epiphany.’

  ‘Crikey mate, alright. Don’t panic, we can get you a cream for that,’ Taffy dead-panned.

  Dan just shook his head. ‘Seriously, for two minutes, I kind of need to talk to you.’

  Taffy pulled a remorseful face. ‘Okay then, start with the juicy stuff and we can go from there.’

  ‘Not about Lindy. I need to talk to you about The Practice, actually. I need an opinion. I’m thinking of stepping out of the race for Senior Partner. It’s just too much grief and hassle. Julia’s building up some cliquey support and, frankly, doing my head in with her new split-personality. I have no idea from one day to the next whether she’s going to be Jekyll or Hyde. And I just can’t work out Henry’s deal, with all his wheeler-dealing. I’m just starting to wonder if it’s all worth it. Besides, it’s not like I’m in great shape at the moment, is it?’

  Taffy couldn’t deny that he’d spent most of the week wondering whether Dan would show up for work and whether he’d be safe and capable when he got there. ‘I do get what you’re thinking, but aren’t you overcomplicating this? Isn’t it just a blip? You’ll go to Hereford this week, Chris’ll work his voodoo magic and you’ll be fine again. Then, I reckon, you’d really regret pulling out. And we’d all have to live with the consequences,’ he ended darkly.

  ‘Maybe. Maybe not . . .’

  They both sat in silence watching a group of joggers stretching out on the trail on the opposite river bank. One or two were dressed in lycra body suits, their neon trainers glistening against the soggy ground. Their warm-up seemed to last forever and then they set off, as a pack, not speaking, just running. Dan pulled a Mars bar out of his pocket and took a huge mouthful, before offering it to Taffy.

  ‘D’you think there’s a chance we’re not taking this marathon training thing seriously enough?’ he asked, heading off on a tangent.

  ‘Wha–?’ mumbled Taffy, mouth full of chocolatey nougat.

  ‘Well, all the Harriers have a special diet, according to Lindy. Low GI, high carb, lots of lean protein, no booze . . .’

  Taffy swallowed hard. ‘I would honestly rather have a stroke halfway round than eat an egg-white omelette and give up a healthy ale or two.’ He patted his firm, muscled, but decidedly un-chiselled abs. ‘Don’t want to make the ladies feel uncomfortable by being intimidating.’

  Dan snorted with laughter. ‘Okay, Romeo. But seriously, what do you think about me stepping down? You’re in kind of a unique position, you know. You know all the goings-on, who’s up to what, but you’re not tied in and blinkered like the rest of us.’

  Taffy could see that Dan had a point, although he’d never stopped to consider it that way. He spent so many shifts at The Practice now, it had started to feel like home. It was the other shifts dotted around the county that actually felt weird. ‘Well, to be honest, I think you’re all mental in your own way. I’m not sure your flashback thing is any worse than Julia’s desire to control everyone and everything around her. And Henry Bruce? Well, if you ask me, he’s not exactly on the straight and level. Can’t put my finger on why, but he always seems so fucking shifty, you know?’

  Dan did know. Henry unnerved him. He was so quick to stick out his hand for a perk, a bonus, anything extra to his already generous package. ‘He’s not quite cricket, is he?’ Dan said, remembering one of his dad’s old sayings.

  ‘If you mean, there’s every chance he’s a bit bent, with his hand in the till, then yeah. So if you look at the options, I’d say The Practice would be better off with a caring, compassionate doctor, who’s a little too emotionally invested, than a control-freak or a blagger.’

  Dan laughed and ran his hand back through his hair, grateful for Taffy’s loyalty and straight talking. ‘If you put it like that, I’d be mad to opt out. But we’re quietly ignoring the elephant in the room here, Taff. What if Chris can’t get me settled again. What if I keep ha
ving problems and it affects my patients. What if somebody dies on my watch because I couldn’t get it together in time and . . .’

  ‘Easy there, Cinderella!’ Taffy put out a steadying hand to Dan’s shoulder. ‘Playing “What if” will send you bonkers quicker than anything else. What if Julia’s cost-cutting means someone doesn’t get the right meds? What if Henry’s so busy taking back-handers and perks from the drug-reps that he blows all the money on a gold-plated stethoscope? What if Holly decides that husband of hers is a loser and moves in with me? What if? What if? What if?’

  Dan smoothed his thumbnail against his bottom lip, as he thought about what Taffy had said. ‘So putting aside for one tiny moment your obsession with the delectable Dr Graham, you reckon it’s best to shut up and stay put?’

  ‘Yup. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not disagreeing that you’ve gone a bit mental again lately. But it doesn’t make you the worst option, not by a long shot.’

  ‘Christ, is this what it’s come down to then? Two blokes on a river bank. One’s the best of a bad bunch at work and the other’s in love with a married woman who hasn’t noticed he exists.’

  ‘Actually,’ said Taffy quietly, ‘I think she’s starting to. I gave her an Orange Club the other day and she called me an angel. And she let me help with the kids today. God knows where that tosser Milo is, but he’s hardly proving to be Husband of the Year, is he?’

  Dan said nothing, just looked out across the undulating grass, the group of runners like tiny ants on the horizon by now. The silence extended until he replied awkwardly, ‘Hmmm. Not sure that means as much as you want it to though, Taff.’

  ‘Point taken. But it’s only a matter of time, isn’t it? How can she want to be married to a tosser called Milo, who writes books about Ancient Norse myths, for Christ’s sake?’

  ‘Yes, but he was called Milo when she married him and that didn’t seem to stop her. And he’s been writing those god-awful books for years, and it didn’t stop her getting pregnant with his twins. And . . . well, maybe you need to accept that she actually loves him. Even though, we can both agree, he is a monumental twat and you would clearly be a better choice.’

  ‘Thanks, mate,’ said Taffy, a little choked up. ‘I’m sure it’s only because I can’t have her that I fancy her so much. It’s not like I’m in love with her or anything, is it? Not like you and the limber Miss Grey?’ He sighed. ‘Jesus, I could murder a cigarette.’

  ‘How’s that going – giving up the fags?’ Dan asked. ‘Still trying that nicotine gum?’

  ‘Nah. I gave up on that – it’s shite, isn’t it? All I’ve got to show for the whole enterprise is an achey jaw from all the chewing and a strangely compelling addiction to scratchcards.’

  ‘What? From the gum?’ Dan queried, confused.

  ‘No, you div, from trying to buy something other than fags every time I go into the petrol station.’

  Dan swatted him on the back of his head and jumped to his feet. ‘And you call me a nutter? Alright then, Gobby. Therapy’s over. Shall we catch up with the others? I gather Teddy’s doing bacon butties for all the swimmers at the pub.’

  ‘Seriously,’ said Taffy, leaping to his feet. ‘I’ve been listening to you waffle on and all this time, there was bacon.’ He gave Dan a wink.

  Dan slammed the boot shut and locked the car. He smacked a hand onto Taffy’s shoulder as they headed into town, thanking his lucky stars he had a mate like Taffy, who instinctively knew how to strike a balance between soppy and supportive. He simply didn’t know how he’d manage without him.

  ‘You know that t-shirt makes you look like a prat, don’t you, mate?’ said Dan, unable to communicate his affection any other way.

  ‘Yeah,’ Taffy countered with a grin, falling easily into their usual banter and bumping his shoulder, ‘but at least I can change my t-shirt.’

  Swinging by The Kingsley Arms on the promise of bacon and a restorative beverage or two, Dan was surprised to see Elsie standing forlornly in the car park with an empty dog lead swinging from her hand. ‘Oh shit,’ he muttered to Taffy, heading over to help.

  ‘Morning, Elsie. How are you?’ Dan said, trying to remain positive and upbeat, because he knew how much it infuriated her to be patronised.

  ‘I’ve lost the blasted dog again,’ she replied, looking perplexed rather than angry. ‘Must have slipped his leash and taken himself off for a walk.’ She ran the red leather lead nervously through her hands and looked around, as if expecting the dog to materialise any moment.

  ‘What kind of dog is it?’ Taffy asked, always up to help.

  ‘He’s a little wire-haired Dachshund called Terry,’ she replied distractedly, trying to whistle, but failing as her lips were blue from standing in the cold.

  ‘Terry!’ Taffy shouted, making them all jump, and whistling loudly through his fingers. ‘Terry!’

  ‘He’s called Terry because he’s always so terribly behaved,’ Elsie confided.

  ‘Sweet,’ Dan said. ‘I hadn’t actually realised you had a dog.’

  ‘Mmm?’ said Elsie. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I said, I hadn’t realised you had a dog,’ Dan repeated.

  ‘Oh, I haven’t,’ Elsie said, wandering off down the car park and jingling the lead.

  Taffy stopped whistling and his face coloured. ‘Am I calling for an imaginary dog?’ he asked, disbelievingly.

  ‘Yup,’ said Dan. ‘Shame really, I thought Elsie was just having a little rough spell with all her blood pressure meds, but it looks like she really is losing the plot a bit.’

  ‘Shifty bastard, dementia,’ agreed Taffy. ‘There’s just no real measure to begin with, is there? I mean, is she actually batty or is she just eccentric?’

  ‘Let’s assume for now, that she’s cold and needs some company. Any objections if I get her to join us for lunch?’

  ‘Fine by me, as long as I don’t have to go on imaginary poop patrol and you get her to tell those fabulous stories about when she was famous.’

  ‘She still is famous, Taffy. She’s just famous for actually doing something, rather than having big boobs and living in Chelsea. Her fame actually means something. I mean, there’s a sodding Oscar in the downstairs loo!’

  ‘Seriously?’

  ‘Seriously – she uses it to hold the spare loo roll. I think she’s a hoot and I can’t pretend I won’t be gutted if she’s going a bit gaga.’

  They caught up with Elsie and reassured her that they could keep looking for Terry once she’d warmed up a bit. Dan guided her into the warmth of the pub and settled her down at a corner table.

  ‘Well, aren’t you a darling,’ she said. ‘I can’t remember the last time I dined out with two such gorgeous young men. No, no bacon for me thank you, Dr Carter. A girl has to watch her figure, you know. Just a large glass of white and some olives please.’

  Dan didn’t argue, but made a point of ordering Elsie a bowl of leek and potato soup to warm her through. She may be struggling with reality today, but she wasn’t getting tiddly on his watch.

  Teddy wrote down the order and looked over at Taffy roaring with laughter at one of Elsie’s shocking anecdotes. ‘Did she find her dog then?’ he asked, leaning around from behind the bar to check the floor.

  Dan shook his head sadly. ‘There is no dog, Teddy. I think she may have got a little confused, that’s all.’

  ‘No dog?’

  ‘No dog.’

  ‘Ah. Okay. She seemed pretty sure, but then I suppose she is an actress, isn’t she? Shame we’ve all got to get old, isn’t it. Even Dad’s losing the plot a bit, I reckon. This whole retirement business has him really stressed out and he’s driving Peter nuts phoning him in Edinburgh all the time.’ Teddy stopped abruptly, suddenly realising he may have spoken out of turn.

  Dan smiled. ‘It would be much easier for him if Peter picked up the reins, I know. It might actually be easier for everyone the way things are going at work.’

  Teddy nodded. ‘Stethoscopes at dawn, I gather
.’

  ‘Something like that.’

  The pub door whooshed open and Grace appeared in the doorway, apparently with half a hedgerow in her hair. In her arms was a filthy, muddy, but undeniably smug-looking Dachshund.

  ‘You angel! Grace, you’ve found him.’ Elsie held out the red lead and Grace gratefully plonked the wriggling bundle on the floor, making sure that the lead was firmly attached first. When Terry wagged his tail, his entire body wiggled and he butted his head against Elsie’s leg delightedly. She handed him a packet of crisps from the table and Terry stuck his head into the bag ecstatically, until the crisp packet was up to his middle and wagging in time with his tail.

  ‘But?’ said Dan and Taffy as one.

  Grace dropped into Dan’s chair and he pulled up another without a word. ‘He’d been round the back of the pub again, looking for leftovers. Found him trying to mate with half a salami.’

  Elsie chuckled and scruffed the crazy fur along his back. ‘I don’t know what I would say to Mrs Grover if I lost him again. She’s sweet enough to let him come to visit while she’s at work.’

  Grace smiled indulgently. ‘Actually, I think you’re technically doing her a favour, dog-sitting every day. But, yes, let’s not lose him again this week at least.’

  Elsie reached down and scooped Terry up on to her lap, ignoring the streaks of mud being spread over her expensive dress. ‘It’s not your fault you have to live up to your name, is it, darling? We should rechristen him, I think. Any ideas?’

  ‘Stinky?’ suggested Taffy, with a sharp look at Dan.

  ‘Roger?’ Dan put forward, as Terry took a liking to Elsie’s leg.

  Grace spluttered and Elsie chuckled wickedly. ‘I think we need something a little more positive for a role model, don’t you? How about Hector? That’s rather aristocratic.’

  ‘Or Cuddles?’ said Grace. ‘Give him something to aim for?’

  ‘Hector? Hector?’ Elsie warbled, trying to get his attention.

  ‘Drinks?’ interrupted Teddy, arriving with a laden tray. He placed all the glasses on the table and picked up the shredded crisp packet without comment. ‘No dog, eh?’ he said under his breath to Dan. ‘You’ll be starting rumours that she’s lost the plot, if you’re not careful.’