by Penny Parkes
Holly nodded. ‘We’d be flipping a coin to see who got to sell their soul to private practice, I reckon. Based on the ratio of Mercedes and Lexuses in the clinic car park the other day, there’s money in medicine if you know where to look.’
‘Ah, but could you look at yourself in the mirror?’ Taffy said with feeling. ‘Knowing you’d sold out on your principles, wouldn’t every measly pound be tainted?’
‘Not so very measly,’ Holly replied, mentioning an annual stipend that made Taffy’s eyes go wide and unblinking, ‘but I take your point. That’s not how we do things, right?’
‘Right,’ he replied. ‘Nothing wrong with a few hand-me-downs and beans on toast.’
Holly kissed him gently, not wishing to point out that, thanks to Elsie’s incredibly lavish gesture, they really weren’t doing too badly on the hand-me-down front! And he made a valid point: they were able to celebrate right now, and enjoy this blindsiding news, because of Elsie. They weren’t pulling out their hair and tapping numbers into a calculator in a state of anxiety, they were content to roll with the punches and their principles – the NHS and state schools all the way.
Swinging by Lizzie’s house on the way to work, Holly was fizzing with excitement. If only Elsie had answered her phone, Holly would have been able to tell all her nearest and dearest in one fell swoop. Elsie’s recorded voicemail message had made Holly snort with laughter – ‘I’m sorry I can’t come to the phone right now, but I don’t want to talk to anyone. Even you. Leave a message and I might call you back – no promises.’
She knocked on Lizzie’s door, braced as always for Eric to come bounding out and knock her flying. Instead it was a doleful Eric who greeted her, lead firmly attached and a guilty expression in his dark brown eyes. Lizzie was still in her pyjamas and clutching a large espresso. ‘Don’t be nice to him; he’s been rogering Mrs Jennings’s pedigree miniature beagle already this morning. She is not a happy bunny.’
‘Mrs Jennings or the beagle?’ quipped Holly tactlessly, earning herself a very stern look from her friend.
‘I’m phoning Rupert later. We can’t let him become the sex pest of Larkford, can we?’ Lizzie said sadly, miming a pair of scissors. ‘Even though Missy was so whipped up by her hormones she broke into our garden and presented herself for servicing, Mrs J is majorly on the rampage. Don’t suppose Tom would like a crossbreed puppy, if it comes to that? Might be rather cute?’
Holly shook her head. ‘No puppies for us. We’ll have our hands full already.’
Lizzie blinked hard. ‘Oh God, shoot me now, Holls. I can’t believe I forgot – how did the scan go last night? All hale and hearty and we can start spreading the news?’
Holly couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face as she silently passed Lizzie the photo, the yin-yang babies crystal-clear to her now well-practised eye.
Lizzie looked up and then down again, checking that her eyes were not deceiving her. She seemed to swing from shocked, to delighted, to falling about laughing within moments at the prospect of what lay ahead. It seemed to be a common theme, this amusement at how Holly and Taffy might juggle two new arrivals at once, Holly realised.
‘Oh my God!’ Lizzie shrieked in excitement, startling even Eric from his self-imposed purdah of shame. ‘This is just brilliant. What did Taffy say? Did he cry? Did you cry? When are they due?’
Holly laughed. ‘We’re both completely over the moon and utterly shell-shocked. Not to mention the fact that I’m already sixteen weeks gone!’
Lizzie clasped her arms and leapt about like a mentalist spaniel. ‘This is going to be hysterical! And, erm, obviously, lovely and wonderful and—’
Holly shook her head, laughing. ‘Between you and me, hysterical is probably more like it. I’m trying not to think about the practicalities and just wallow in the excitement, to be honest.’ She grinned. ‘And now I have to go to work and pretend I don’t secretly want to curl up in my office and sleep.’
Lizzie pulled her into a rib-crushing hug and Eric insinuated himself around her ankles. ‘I’m so bloody happy for you,’ she whispered.
‘Me too,’ replied Holly gleefully, not feeling even a scrap of guilt at her hard-won contentment.
Walking into the doctors’ lounge, Holly felt a sudden wave of nerves overcoming her; there was no way she was going to make an official announcement at work until she’d tracked down Elsie. In her mind, it would be the height of rudeness to leave her beloved friend out of the loop, even if that meant yet another day of walking on eggshells.
She needn’t have worried.
Grace was bustling about sticking task allocations for the auction preparation on the staff noticeboard and Taffy and Dan seemed to be fighting with the new coffee machine.
Grace saw her come in and paused. ‘Morning,’ she said with a subtle smile. ‘How’re you feeling?’ she asked quietly, no need to be briefed about discretion.
‘Queasy, excited and terrified in equal measure right now,’ Holly replied, her eye falling on the sheaf of papers in Grace’s hands. ‘Going up or coming down?’ she queried.
Grace blushed. ‘Coming down. Quite what Jason was thinking putting up all these photos of himself without his shirt on—’
‘Aw,’ said Holly. ‘He was probably feeling left out not to have been invited to be in the “paramedics and pilots” calendar. Bless him – maybe these were his audition shots?’
Grace flicked through them again. ‘Oh God, I think you’re right. Although, to be honest, some of them are a little X-rated.’ She discreetly flipped over one of the photocopies, only for Holly to get an eyeful of Jason’s admittedly pert and well-rounded buttocks in all their naked glory.
‘Well, at least he’s committed to raising morale,’ Holly offered, feeling all unnecessary. ‘Maybe we should offer him December after all? He does look rather good in that Santa hat.’ The fact that the only thing he was wearing was said Santa hat, plus a come-hither smile, whilst clutching a gift-wrapped package over his, well, package, made Holly wonder whether she was the only one who found the image both mildly erotic and a trifle distasteful at the same time.
‘Hmm,’ said Grace darkly, ‘I think raising morale might not be uppermost in his mind, to be honest.’
‘Well, I bet Chris Virtue won’t let the side down, photogenically speaking anyway,’ teased Holly, watching Grace blush. ‘He seems to be such a lovely chap, Grace. And God knows he’s rather useful when it comes to getting the full story about what’s going on over there.’ Holly grinned. ‘I think we all appreciate you taking one for the team there.’
Grace looked aghast and Holly realised how her ill-chosen words might have come across. ‘Not that you’re taking one, I mean, not that he’s . . . Oh God, you know what I mean . . .’ Holly’s words petered out as she tried to dig herself out of the hole.
Grace shook her head. ‘I know exactly what you mean. Relax. And yes, he is a really lovely chap—’ There was a but just hanging in the air between them, Holly thought, and she didn’t mean Jason’s photo. There was a reservation in Grace’s voice that suggested her gorgeous pilot-suitor might not be quite the catch they all assumed he was. At least, maybe not for Grace—
A shout of laughter echoed across the room and both women looked up in surprise. ‘They’ve been fannying about with that new coffee machine for ages,’ Grace said in confusion. ‘It’s not exactly rocket science – go and give them a hand Holly, would you? I’ve got a million and one phone calls to follow up from my data request. But I mustn’t grumble, it’s just wonderful how many rural trusts are jumping on board.’
Holly nodded and wandered over, only to find Dan almost crying with laughter as Taffy took yet another go at securing his morning espresso.
‘One es-press-oh,’ he said, sounding out each syllable precisely, but unable to avoid the Welsh lilt to his voice.
The coffee machine sat stubbornly silent.
Holly leaned forward and read the instructions affixed to the machine: ‘Simply pre
ss the red button and speak clearly into the microphone.’ There followed a list of the coffees available, ranging from a simple espresso to a caramel cappuccino with extra foam.
‘Try something more complicated and see if that works?’ suggested Dan.
Taffy frowned and pressed the red button firmly. ‘Makey-ah-to.’
Nothing.
‘It’s your wonky accent,’ said Dan, shaking his head. ‘Here, let me try.’ He stood in front of the machine and cleared his throat. ‘One espresso,’ he said, never having sounded more plummily English in his life. The coffee machine obligingly erupted into life, pouring a heady stream of thick black coffee into the little cup, a perfect crema settling on top.
Holly turned her head away, biting hard on her bottom lip to stop herself laughing, knowing that Dan had perfectly angled himself to prevent Taffy seeing the flick of the all-important power switch on the side, before pressing the red button. Dan flicked the machine to ‘off’ again. ‘Here, have another go and try to speak clearly this time—’
Taffy frowned, leaning forward to read the instruction label one more time.
He paused, then narrowed his eyes, the top corner of the label beginning to peel fractionally away. ‘You utter bastard!’ he guffawed, knowing he’d been had, knowing deep down that there was no such thing as a voice-activated coffee machine, knowing that Dan was always a little bit faster on the hoof. It didn’t stop him chasing him right through the lounge and out into the car park though, until both of them were breathless with laughter.
Chapter 32
Dan rubbed one hand over his eyes and yawned; it had seemed such a good idea to have an impromptu celebration the night before that none of them had considered how they would feel twenty-four hours later, at the end of an extended day. It had seemed the very least he could do, to volunteer to cover Holly’s evening surgery.
He was thrilled for his friends, of course he was, but he couldn’t help wondering how their new arrivals – and of course they had to be in the plural – would affect the delicate balance they had worked so hard for at The Practice. If these cuts really were the harbinger of things to come, then surely they needed more hands on deck, not fewer.
He read through the oncology report for Edward Everett, his suspicions about prostate cancer all too sadly accurate. How his wonderful wife, Jane, would cope was anyone’s guess, but it did rather put things in perspective. Their marriage was one of equals and it endured; he could only wish the same for his two best friends. Happily-ever-after apparently wasn’t an open-ended state of affairs, and that alone made all his concerns seem shallow and superficial.
Taffy poked his head around the door, looking almost as rough as Dan felt. ‘Are you sure you’re happy to stay? You don’t want me to stick around for some company? Try out some fancy coffees from the new machine?’
Dan shook his head. ‘Nah, I think you’d better get home to Holly and rub her feet or something. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do?’
Taffy grinned, pushing open the door and sitting on the edge of Dan’s desk. ‘Nah, she’s too ticklish for that. Not to mention your daft cousin has filled her head with nonsense about feet being the new erogenous zone.’
They both gave a theatrical shudder.
‘So,’ Taffy said after a moment’s pause. ‘Are we going to talk about the parrot?’
Dan looked up in surprise; he’d only been joking when he suggested it. ‘We can’t really have a parrot at work, Taffs, you know that. I was just winding Gracie up.’
Taffy looked at him sceptically. ‘You do seem to spend an awful lot of time winding her up these days. Had you considered just asking her out?’
It wasn’t often that they were so frank with one another, preferring the ease of their long-established bantery relationship, but obviously impending parenthood had trimmed away another layer of familiarity.
Dan frowned, but responded with honesty: ‘I think we have to accept that I missed the boat there, Taffs. We don’t all get our happy-ever-afters on the doorstep, you know.’
Taffy grinned. ‘Are you likening my wife-to-be to a takeaway pizza?’ He stood up. ‘Pop round when you’re done – we can have a few beers in the garden and plot the downfall of Chris Virtue if you like.’ He paused. ‘Failing that, you could be the sexy doctor with the pet parrot – it could be your USP for online dating.’
‘My Utterly Sexist Parrot?’ Dan clarified with a grin, punching Taffy on the arm by way of affection. ‘That might work. If in doubt, be eccentric, right?’ Eccentric sounded so much better in his head than just ‘single’.
Ten patients, three hours and a demanding heap of admin later, Dan clicked ‘print’ on his last referral letter of the day and sighed. He really didn’t want to intrude on Holly and Taffy two nights in a row – no matter what Taffy said, they needed some couple-time to adapt to their big news – but he had to confess he’d do anything to just talk about cricket and nonsense with his mate for a bit.
He couldn’t even bring himself to go for a run, even if running with the Larkford Harriers always gave his self-esteem a little boost. He did try to ignore the obvious flirtations and increasingly skimpy Lycra that some of the female triathletes had adopted, but he was only human after all. The pity was that he could no longer even see the attraction in a pointless one-night hookup; Lindy Grey had cured him of that.
He picked up the notebook that Grace had bought for him last week, the light bulb on the front cover hinting at the genius fundraising ideas he was supposed to be drafting inside.
So far, he had a list of the Air Ambulance crew and a few doodles of helicopters with faces. The name Chris Virtue seemed to leap off the page and Dan barely suppressed a shudder of irritation. Grace had been annoyingly chipper for the last few days, full of chit-chat about the poncy dinner, all the little nuggets of information she’d gleaned, and now this new suggestion of an auction. By the sound of it, any contribution he personally could make would only be a drop in the ocean of funding required. It was enough to make a man feel a little irrelevant – on every level.
Dan closed down his computer. It had almost been worth staying late to clear up his overflowing inbox, but even that accomplishment seemed hollow and unsatisfying tonight.
A loud crash from Reception startled him; he was out of the door and running down the corridor even before his logical brain could kick in. There was another clang as something hard and metallic fell to the floor and the skin at the back of his neck prickled a warning as he took in how eerily deserted the building was.
He slammed open the door to Reception, hoping to take the intruder by surprise, only to freeze in the doorway for a split-second, as his brain struggled to compute what he was seeing.
Old man Jarley was puce in the face and shouting at Grace, as he held her pinned against the wall. An angry bruise was already erupting over her eyelid and she was begging him to stop. With one hand he held her wrists above her head and with the other he was waving a knife in front of her face. ‘Just give me the fucking key!’ he hissed, his eyes glazed and pupils dilated. There was no doubt that he was high as a kite.
The remains of a smashed lamp and computer were scattered all over the room; it was clear that Grace had been fighting him off with whatever she could find to hand.
With just two steps Dan was across to them, barely giving Jarley a chance to react. In a bizarre turn of the tables, Jarley was just as hobbled as Grace, with both his hands otherwise engaged. Dan didn’t hold back; he brought his fist forward with such force that Jarley flew across the room and slammed into the wall, crumpling like a rag doll, blood oozing from his nose and the corner of his mouth.
Convinced that Jarley wasn’t going anywhere any time soon, Dan stepped forward just as Grace fell mutely into his arms. It wasn’t that he expected her to be sobbing, but there was something about her utter silence that frightened him more. As though she had somehow logged out of the situation.
He bent forward and caught one arm under her knees
, swinging her fragile frame up into his arms. He walked through to the waiting room in search of water and a chair, pressing his lips into her hair and murmuring reassuring words that made no real sense. The salty taste on his lips confused him for a second, as tears ran down his own face in shock and horror at what might have been, if he himself hadn’t been such a lazy bastard in letting his paperwork pile up. The image of that knife glinting so close to Grace’s face was imbedded in his mind’s eye.
‘Grace?’ he said gently, as he sat down and she automatically settled in his lap. She made no sound, other than a tremulous keening that was barely audible, as though her scream had been caught unspoken in the atmosphere. With one hand he slipped his phone from his pocket and dialled. ‘Chief Inspector? I need you at The Practice. Now. There’s been an assault.’
Whether it was the thought of the police, or the word ‘assault’, he couldn’t tell, but Grace bent double in his arms, her cries no longer frozen, as she moaned in pain and disbelief. ‘I was just locking up—’ she managed, raising her head to look at Dan. ‘And he wouldn’t believe me. I told him I didn’t have the pharmacy keys, but he wouldn’t believe me.’
He tried so hard not to look shocked at her appearance, but perhaps she saw herself reflected in his eyes, as she dropped her face instantly into his shoulder and sobbed. ‘I’m so stupid. Why did I even let him in? But he said he needed to drop off a letter—’
He kissed her hair once more, and then her forehead – lovingly, gently, with completely honest adoration. ‘Oh Grace,’ he murmured, ‘my poor Grace. You’re so trusting, that’s all. And so brave.’
She shook her head. ‘It still wasn’t enough though. He didn’t believe me. And he was so strong.’