by Penny Parkes
Lucy poked her head around the door. ‘Sorry to interrupt, Holly, but your next patient’s a no-show and there’s a bloke waiting to see you. Says it’s “personal” and he’s happy to wait.’ Lucy made air quotes with her fingers around the word personal and waggled her eyebrows. ‘He’s very charming though, and well fit. Is it your hubby? Are we finally allowed to meet him?’
Holly swallowed the uncharitable response that, if he was charming, it was very unlikely to be Milo. She turned off the tap and dried her hands, the sun streaming in through the frosted glass. ‘I’ll come out,’ she said, following Lucy through to reception. Whilst she hadn’t expected Milo to turn up at work, she would never have predicted that her visitor would be Will. A tired, grey-faced Will at that, huddled uncomfortably in the corner of the waiting room, looking as though he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.
‘How long have I got free, Luce?’ Holly asked quietly.
‘’Bout twenty-five minutes, if you need to pop out,’ Lucy replied. ‘Not the Magnificent Milo then?’
Holly gave her an odd look. ‘No, just my friend’s husband. I will pop out, though. Won’t be long. And Luce – the Magnificent Milo? Where did that come from?’
Lucy’s face flooded crimson and she looked mortified. ‘Holly, I’m so sorry, it was just a slip of the tongue . . . Some of the doctors, well, I mean, Dr Carter sometimes . . . Oh shit – can you just be an angel and forget I said anything?’
Holly shook her head and smiled. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t tell Dan that you dropped him in it.’ She pushed open the door to the waiting room, leaving Lucy mouthing mutely in the corridor. Try as she might, Holly couldn’t be cross with Lucy or Dan – the Magnificent Milo had an edge of truth to it that made it properly funny. Not that she would admit that of course. To anyone.
‘Holls.’ Will sprang to his feet as soon as he saw her. ‘I’m so sorry for bothering you at work, I just need five minutes if you’ve got them?’
In no time, they had picked up two coffees from the deli and were meandering their way through the town parkland. ‘Come on then, Willeth, what’s up? The designer stubble’s looking a little unkempt and you’ve that crazy look about the eyes. You’ve got your Finals Face on, so spill . . .’
Holly watched as Will psyched himself up. ‘I need you to tell me what’s going on with Lizzie?’ he said abruptly. ‘I hardly recognise my own wife at the moment. She says you two have fallen out, but I won’t believe it until I hear it from you.’
‘Oh,’ said Holly quietly, ‘well, she’s not making that up, if that’s what’s worrying you.’ She felt incredibly awkward. She’d known Will almost as long as she’d known Lizzie. She counted him as one of her best friends, but suddenly, without Lizzie in the picture, Holly felt uncomfortable telling tales about his wife’s appalling behaviour. ‘I really think it would be better if you talked to Lizzie about this.’
He turned to look at Holly, slopping hot coffee over his wrist but barely seeming to notice. ‘You don’t think I’ve tried?’ He sighed. ‘Honestly, Holls, I wouldn’t put you in the middle of this, unless I thought it might make a difference. I’m worried about her, Holly. She’s hardly eating, she’s snapping at the kids, and every time I see her she has a drink in her hand. I don’t know what’s going on with you two, but Holls, for me, can you make amends?’
Holly shrugged, feeling thoroughly conflicted. Of course there was a certain loyalty to Will, not to mention concern for Lizzie, but the hurt and betrayal of Lizzie’s actions still hurt like a fresh wound.
‘Look,’ Will tried again. ‘Lizzie’s great at putting on a public face, okay. She’s all calmness and serenity on the surface, whilst it’s a maelstrom underneath, yes? Well, she’d kill me for saying this, but she’d been miserable for ages. Wouldn’t admit that she was struggling, wouldn’t admit that things weren’t great . . . And then you moved here, Holly, and my wife was smiling and laughing again – not just for visitors, but, you know, singing in the shower . . .’ He trailed off looking lost.
Holly took a deep breath and tucked her arm through his, as she quietly recounted the conversation she’d overheard. ‘So the thing is, Will, I want to help. I do. But I have to look out for myself a bit too. I’m more than just a pawn on Lizzie’s chessboard. She’s messed about with my life, my job, my marriage . . . This move was a Big Deal to me. And it’s all smoke and mirrors. I can’t work out what’s true and what’s lies and . . . And, oh shit, Will, I feel so manipulated.’ She dashed away a rogue tear that was blurring her vision. ‘I don’t know how to let this go. It’s just too big, you know?’
Will said nothing. The shock was etched on his face. Holly wasn’t entirely sure what he’d been expecting when he sought her out – did he think they’d fallen out over a muffin recipe, for Christ’s sake? Surely he’d realised that it would have taken something fairly seismic to shake the foundations of their friendship?
‘Well, I can see why you’re angry,’ he said slowly, scuffing the ground with his feet. ‘In fact, I can’t work out why you’re not screamingly apoplectic.’ He risked a glance in her direction. ‘I think I would be.’
Will didn’t need to know all the dark thoughts she’d been harbouring over the last few days. Likewise, she didn’t want to admit to herself that the Spring Swim and Taffy and Milo had conveniently filled her waking thoughts all weekend, until the drama with Lizzie had receded to an uncomfortable flickering in her peripheral vision. It was as though she knew there was something on her To Do list, but she couldn’t quite remember what it was. After all, what would she have written? ‘One. Find way to forgive oldest friend for manipulating me and not giving a shit about any personal consequences I might suffer. Two, ignore the fact that she hasn’t apologised. Three . . .’
Holly shrugged. ‘Lizzie’s a loose cannon at the moment, Will. She doesn’t even seem to appreciate that she needs to apologise. She thinks I’m over-reacting. So . . . well, now you know.’
‘And there’s no chance that you could be the bigger person here? Phone her? I don’t know, invite her out for coffee . . .’
Holly couldn’t hide her surprise and her tone was sharper than she’d intended it to be. ‘You were listening just now, Will? You did hear what she did?’
Will looked embarrassed and uncomfortable and Holly felt immediately guilty. ‘I know you’re worried about her, Will, but I just don’t think that I’m the solution to the problem. And, as much as I hate to admit it, I’m worried about her too. But like I said, I can’t risk becoming yet more collateral damage.’
Will sighed again, pulling the air from his boots. ‘Oh Holls, don’t talk to me about risks. I’m an actuary, remember? I know all about risks . . . it’s all I do every bloody day. I work out the odds for the worst-case scenario. I calculate the likelihood of death and divorce and fire and flood – but at no point did I see any numbers about the probability of my gorgeous wife turning into a back-stabbing fiend with her face in the gin! Please – Holls – I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t desperate . . .’ He leaned into her shoulder for support as they ambled along, forcing a note of laughter into his voice as he confessed, ‘You see, I didn’t realise before, that Lizzie only actually listens to me, if my opinion happens to coincide with yours. And now we need you. I need your voice of reason, because I’m worried and out of my depth.’
As Will gently filled Holly in on what he had seen, and what had triggered his concern, his face turned slowly ashen. ‘It doesn’t sound good, does it?’
Holly shook her head, wincing, cross with herself for caring so much, despite everything that Lizzie had done lately. ‘Lately’ suddenly felt like a drop in the ocean, compared to their years of friendship. She felt sick, and so, so frightened of what would happen if nobody intervened.
‘I’m just terrified, Holly, that she’ll crash. Literally and metaphorically,’ said Will. ‘I’m not sure and I can’t prove it, but I have a horrible feeling she was wasted when she picked the kids up last night and I couldn’
t bear it if . . .’ He choked up, unable to finish his sentence.
Holly drank her coffee, her eyes unseeing as she tried to take everything in. ‘Right,’ she said finally, her logical mind kicking in, ‘simple measures first. The car can go in for a service until we know what’s going on, can’t it? Then empty the wine cupboard. I’ll get you some information on what to look out for and what to expect. And then we need to find a way to broach the subject.’ She breathed out heavily, overwhelmed by the sense of duty that settled on her shoulders. Whatever her thoughts about Lizzie right now, Holly owed it to Will and the kids – her surrogate family – to step up. They could deal with the other stuff later.
‘We?’ queried Will, the hope evident in his voice. His shoulders were slumped and he looked up at Holly, almost defeated already by the task awaiting him. ‘Are you sure, Holls?’
Holly shrugged and looked uncomfortable. ‘Nope. I’m not sure. I’m not sure, but I am really worried and I’ll help if I can. I’m not promising forgive and forget here, though okay? Lizzie and I still have some stuff to deal with. She can’t treat me like that and expect me to be okay with it. But if you need me . . .’
Holly batted away the feeling of obligation – this felt like one of those shoulds that defined what kind of person you were.
Will smiled, finally, the relief evident in his voice. He hugged Holly tightly. ‘Thank you,’ he whispered into her ear.
They’d come full circle back to The Practice and Holly knew she was running late. Her heart sank at the sight of Cassie Holland looming on the pavement in front of her with her phalanx of groupies with prams behind her.
Will naturally took Holly’s hand and stepped into the road to give them space to pass.
Cassie’s eyebrows shot up under her henna’d fringe. ‘I told you that new doctor was a dark horse.’ Her voice carried clearly back to Holly and Will, as Cassie strode away. ‘Someone should tell her, we’ve got no time for her city ways in our town. Did you see her at the weekend, all over Taffy Jones and now here she is with another one in tow. Have any of you even met this husband of hers? I’m beginning to think he doesn’t exist.’
Will couldn’t help but grin. ‘You shameless hussy, Holly. Only here five minutes and already they’ve got your number!’
Holly just shook her head, only hoping that Will was so distracted that he wouldn’t pick up on the Taffy Jones comment. Fat chance.
‘So, that Taffy’s a very handy rugby player from what I hear. Probably just the right build to sit on your painful husband, should you ever decide to upgrade.’ He gave her a friendly nudge to show that he meant no harm by it, but they both knew that Will would be there with Pompoms and a Parade should the day ever arrive.
‘I must get back, patients to see . . . Let’s speak later, yes?’
Will gave her another hug, holding on just a fraction too long. ‘To be honest, I was kind of hoping you’d laugh at me about all this and tell me not to be daft.’
‘But I didn’t do that.’
‘No,’ said Will, ‘you didn’t do that. So now, we have to decide. Who talks to Lizzie?’
Chapter 28
The usual post-lunch malaise in the doctors’ lounge was made worse by the fact that the weather had warmed up but the heating was still switched on. Somehow, not one of the team working that day could figure out how to switch the new hi-tech system off and the stultifying heat was making everyone crabby and irritable.
Dan watched Taffy look at his watch yet again and sigh. ‘If you’re so impatient for your lunch-break to be over, I’m sure Grace can find you something to do.’
Taffy pulled a face and picked up another magazine. ‘Dead around here today though.’
Dan stifled a grin. ‘If by that you mean, isn’t it quiet without Holly Graham to lust after, then yup – dead around here . . .’
Taffy just scowled. Not the best sign, in Dan’s experience. There was an awkward pause and then Taffy looked over the top of Woman’s Weekly. ‘Have you seen her today? Holly, I mean.’
Dan shrugged, deliberately not wishing to fan the flames. ‘She was in the office with Grace and Lucy earlier. They were having a right old natter.’
Taffy nodded. ‘Settled in well, hasn’t she? Holly, I mean.’
Dan gave his mate an odd look. ‘I told you she’d be a good fit.’
‘Hmmm, you’re right there – she is quite fit. Holly, I mean.’
Dan leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. ‘I know you mean Holly, you daft plank. You may think, by the way, that you’re being terribly discreet and opaque, but you’re like a teenager on heat. Any mention of the word “Holly” and you’re practically leaping up and down.’ Dan sniggered. ‘Good job it’s not Christmas or all those carols would have you going like Pavlov’s dog!’
Taffy threw Woman’s Weekly deftly at Dan, the recipe section arcing out mid-flight to whack Dan squarely on the jaw. ‘Easy tiger,’ Dan complained.
‘Yeah, well, it’s easy for you, isn’t it?’ Taffy protested. ‘Mr Deep and Meaningful, you’re used to having “feelings” – urgh – I don’t know how you get through the fricking day with all that going on in your head!’
Dan sat back, rubbing his jaw, and trying to ignore an interesting recipe for Pistachio Pavlova. ‘Are you honestly telling me that you’ve never had feelings for anyone before? I’m sorry, Taffs, but I don’t believe it.’
Taffy shrugged. ‘Suit yourself. But to be fair – you’ve known me for what, ten years? Ever seen me like this before?’ There was a long pause as Dan scrolled through his memory banks. ‘See? I am, to coin the technical phrase, completely buggered here, mate. She’s got in my head.’
‘Well, there you have it – she’s in your head, not your bed. Anyone else, you’d have been there by now, wouldn’t you? Holly’s just forbidden fruit – you want her precisely because you know you can’t have her. It’s a caveman thing. Probably.’
‘Probably.’ Taffy sighed and then slapped Dan’s hand as he leaned across and pinched one of the last few Hobnobs. ‘You’re a bit perkier this week, anyway. Maybe your hot date was exactly what the doctor ordered.’
Dan swallowed the last of the Hobnob and wiped his hands on his trousers. ‘Nah, fun though. But it gave me a bit of a wake-up call to be honest, so I took myself off to see Chris – you know, the counsellor I used to see in Hereford. Went out for a pint and a chat, off the books, you know. He’s a bit of a legend that guy.’
‘And? Did he say you were a nut job? Did he offer you one of those nice linen jackets with the wraparound sleeves? Did he buy you a year’s supply of Cadbury’s Fruit and Nut bars? Did he . . .’
‘Are you done?’ cut in Dan drily.
‘Yup,’ replied Taffy sheepishly, ‘but even you have to admit there’s plenty of mileage for piss-taking built in with this one.’
‘Well, you’ll be pleased to know that he’s calling it a “blip” rather than a relapse. Reckons I stopped treatment too early and got complacent.’
‘Well, you are known for your complacency,’ nodded Taffy, trying and failing to be serious.
‘Can you believe he told me to reduce my stress levels and then, in the very next breath, he told me to get a girlfriend. Seems to me the two are mutually exclusive . . .’
Taffy nodded. ‘Well, you are drawn to the high-maintenance models. And Julia was hardly an oasis of restful delight, was she? But he might have a point – you know, medically speaking – from an endorphins perspective.’ Taffy flicked the end of his biscuit at Dan. ‘Plenty of opportunities for exercise anyway . . .’
Dan just shook his head. ‘Anyway, long story short, it’s back to all the mindfulness bollocks and a weekly session with the head shrinker.’
Taffy slapped Dan on the shoulder, relieved beyond measure for his mate, but emotionally unequipped to handle it. ‘Well, don’t go too often, because as we already know . . .’
‘I’ve got a teeny tiny head!’ finished Dan. It was an old joke from when he’d had h
is first army buzz cut – suddenly divested of his lustrous locks, every person he’d met had been unable to resist commenting on his Far Side proportions.
‘Speaking of doctor’s orders to get a girlfriend,’ Taffy said after a while, ‘any news of the Lustful Lindy?’
Dan shrugged. ‘She friended me on Facebook.’ He looked uncomfortable, fiddling with his watch strap and not meeting Taffy’s eye. ‘We’ve spoken a couple of times and sometimes she texts me late at night when she’s feeling, erm, in need of company,’ said Dan glumly.
‘And you’re down about this because . . . ?’ Taffy queried.
‘Well, she’s just after a shag, mate, isn’t she? Although she calls it “hooking up”.’ He gave a theatrical shudder at the term. ‘I guess what I’m saying, is that I want more than the whole Friends-With-Benefits thing.’
‘Well get you – Germaine Greer eat your heart out!’
‘It’s not very cool for a bloke to turn down sex though, have you noticed?’ Dan said quietly. ‘But getting together just for a shag felt kind of hollow and, to be honest,’ he finally looked up at Taffy, ‘saying no feels more pro-active – a conscious choice. Makes me feel like I deserve something better, like maybe a conversation afterwards, or something in common.’ His eyes briefly flickered across the room towards Julia.
‘Did you read that in Cosmo?’ asked Taffy gently, but any teasing on his part was simply to make Dan feel at ease. The expression on his face was one of pure respect.
Dan grinned suddenly, grateful as ever for their banter. ‘Nope – I think it was Red actually.’
They both looked a little sheepishly at the heap of magazines on the coffee table. ‘We really need to get some new magazines in the waiting room,’ said Taffy.
‘We really do,’ agreed Dan, blushing slightly from his revelations, but somehow glad to get that off his chest.
Dan and Taffy relaxed back in companionable silence. The little groups dotted around the lounge seemed to have been hit by the same soporific wave, as only quiet murmurs could be heard. Outside the window though, Dan could hear raised voices. Well, technically, only one raised voice. George Kingsley appeared to be marching up and down the car park, struggling to get a decent connection on his BlackBerry. Whoever he was talking to, it was clearly enough to make George’s blood pressure rise. Even from this distance, Dan could see his face was flushed red and he was waving his arms around for emphasis.