Practice Makes Perfect

by Penny Parkes

  Silence stretched out through the kitchen, broken only by Eric’s snores from under the table. Holly had absolutely no idea what to say next.

  In her lifetime, she’d dealt with strong men, bullying men, controlling men even – but she had no idea how to handle someone who wore their heart on their sleeve and was prepared to tie himself in knots just to avoid a poor comparison. For all the talk of tight family units building self-esteem, it was actually quite the revelation that underneath the surface, Taffy was just as vulnerable as the next person. And now Holly had to wonder whether she should follow Dan’s advice and actually start turning away Taffy’s help and support for his own good, before he promised himself into a position of no return.

  Chapter 33

  ‘And then I found that if I blow my nose too hard, it actually comes out of my eye!’ exclaimed Cassie Holland. She was one of the last patients in an extended morning surgery for Holly and it had been slow-going from the start.

  Holly was still doing her best to resist Julia’s insistent requests for Quentin and his film crew to shadow her that afternoon. It was becoming increasingly difficult to avoid and it didn’t really help that her in-tray was full of yet more press requests that Grace had edited thoroughly until only the important ones remained, but to Holly’s mind, there still seemed to be plenty of those.

  As her gaze wandered to the clock on the wall, she was quietly counting down the hours until lunch when she had plans, big plans, to make Elsie’s first trip to the Stroke Rehabilitation Unit fun.

  ‘And I tried steaming with menthol, Dr Graham, but it didn’t seem to make that much difference, to be honest,’ Cassie continued.

  Holly smiled patiently. ‘Cassie, I know you don’t like taking antibiotics, but sometimes they’re necessary. You have acute sinusitis and we’ve tried all the other ways to treat this, so you need to listen to me now – take the antibiotics and let’s deal with the infection. But you will need to stay out of the sun while you’re taking them, okay? The ones I’m prescribing are the best for sinus problems, but they do increase your photosensitivity, so please be sensible.’

  Cassie pouted. ‘But I’m going on holiday next week.’

  Holly took a deep breath, trying not to let her thoughts show on her face, namely that if Cassie had listened to her three weeks ago then it wouldn’t be an issue by now. ‘Are you going somewhere very hot?’

  Cassie shrugged. ‘Wales.’

  Holly’s lips twitched as she fought the urge to laugh. ‘Then just pop on some sunscreen and maybe a hat? The weather forecast isn’t great for the next few weeks anyway, so I suspect you’ll be fine.’

  Cassie fidgeted in her seat, never one to surrender even a moment of her allocated slot. ‘I’d also like to talk to you about Tarquin. It’s one of the struggles with having a gifted child, I know, but can you offer some advice about how to help him adapt to spending time with his less mentally enabled peers? Maybe you could refer him to a child psychologist – you know, so that he can really get the best out of his social interactions?’

  Holly nodded, wondering how to tactfully phrase what she really wanted to say: he’s not gifted; he’s spoiled. Tell him to stop sticking things up his nose to get attention and being unbearably snobby around his ‘peers’ and he might find things easier. Also, wash his hair more often and stop dressing him up like Little Lord Fauntleroy.

  Obviously, she said none of those things out loud. ‘Cassie, if you’d like to talk to me about this then do feel free to make another appointment and bring young Tarquin in, but I’m afraid I have a full list this morning and yours was an emergency slot. But I’m sure the antibiotics will sort you out so you can enjoy your holiday.’ Holly stood up and opened the door – it was normally enough to provoke even the most recalcitrant of patients to leave, but Cassie was made of sterner stuff and showed no sign of moving.

  It wasn’t until Dan Carter walked past the door that she reluctantly got to her feet and left, with her prescription in her hand and a displeased expression on her face.

  ‘Dan?’ said Holly. ‘I don’t know quite how to ask this, but what are you wearing?’

  He did a little twirl in the corridor, much to Cassie’s disgust as she muttered to herself walking back to reception, ‘Oh you’ve got time for silly business, but not for my son . . .’

  Dan laid a cautionary hand on Holly’s arm as she looked as though she was about to lose her rag. ‘Don’t let her get to you.’

  Holly couldn’t help but wonder, looking down at Dan’s hand, why he was wearing padded gloves in the middle of summer. ‘Dare I even ask?’ she said eventually.

  Dan’s outsized shirt was straining at the seams over what appeared to be a layer of padding and he was walking strangely too. ‘It’s a fat suit,’ he said proudly. ‘It’s part of a new initiative to raise understanding of our obese patients. The idea is to wear it for a day and see all the challenges they face, that we have no idea about. I’ve already got stuck in the loo cubicle at The Deli – definitely fattist dimensions there – and I’ve had three lads call me Fatty at the supermarket. Not only that, but with these sausage fingers I can hardly type.’ He looked delighted at his recent discoveries.

  ‘Okay,’ said Holly slowly. ‘And this is an NHS initiative?’ She was mainly confused because it sounded so forward thinking and empathetic – hardly the usual penny-pinching, broad-strokes approach they were used to.

  Dan blushed a little then. ‘Well, to be honest, it’s more something Taffy and I were trying out after we saw them on the Science Channel.’

  ‘You mean it’s a bet?’ said Holly.

  ‘Not just a bet,’ interrupted Taffy as he squeezed his newly upholstered form out of the gents’ loo. ‘It’s raising awareness and understanding, too. And we do seem to have a lot of overweight patients at the moment. You can blame Mrs Darnley, if you like. I saw her last week and to be honest, I didn’t even know you could get fungus in that many places!’

  Dan shook his head as he grimaced. ‘Bit of a shocker that one. But if you were open to a little feedback, Taffs, I’ve also found that morbidly obese patients much prefer it if you don’t keep going on and on about how much they have to eat every day to stay “that fat”. And she did mention to me at the weekend that you seemed far more excited about finding her missing TV-remote when swabbing the rash than she was?’

  Taffy looked a little bit guilty. ‘True – but then also, you have to remember that she’s been stuck watching E4 for the last few weeks because she couldn’t change channel. I bet she was a little bit excited really, you know, as well as the whole mortified and embarrassed bit?’

  ‘Hmmm. Possibly,’ Dan conceded. ‘But chances are she’ll be back in a week, because there’s no way she’ll be sticking to a sugar-free diet, is there?’

  ‘It’s just madness that we can’t refer her across to the Obesity Clinic though, isn’t it?’ said Holly. ‘I mean, the woman is putting her health in grave danger and I’m sure they’re better equipped to deal with her.’ They all looked ruefully at the broken office chair in the corner.

  ‘She’s just not big enough to qualify,’ said Dan. ‘How mad is that? She just doesn’t make the cut.’

  Taffy scrunched up his face, his ever-present idealism clashing horribly with reality. ‘So we have to let her get even heavier, before we can get her proper targeted help to get thinner.’ He sounded despondent for a moment before rallying. ‘And so we’re doing this. A few days in one of these and we’ll really be able to understand Mrs Darnley’s challenges and we’ll be better doctors for it, I’m sure.’

  Holly said nothing, Taffy was highly skilled at self-incrimination. ‘And – okay – whoever wears it the longest, wins,’ he confessed. ‘You don’t mind some extra junk in my trunk, do you, Holls?’ He came towards her for a cuddle and Holly couldn’t help but laugh.

  ‘I have a clinic full of patients waiting and there’s press all over town. So, hats off to you both!’

  The two men looked at each ot
her, as if this thought hadn’t crossed their minds and then dismissed it: vanity was not an issue where these two were concerned. Holly shrugged, frankly just relieved to see Dan smile again. ‘Your call.’

  ‘Join us at the pub for some lunch?’ offered Taffy.

  Holly shook her head. ‘Not today – I have plans.’

  The two men waddled away from her towards the exit.

  ‘Your round,’ Taffy reminded Dan as he pulled open the door.

  ‘Well, you’re not exactly svelte, my friend,’ countered Dan with a grin.

  Holly beeped the horn as she pulled up outside Elsie’s house – late, as usual. Grace leapt out of the passenger seat and rang the doorbell, just as Lizzie arrived, out of breath, and clutching a large carrier bag.

  ‘Good to see we’re on top of things,’ she gasped, her legendary efficiency having been ditched along with the power suits and paycheque. ‘Sorry, just nodded off for a moment . . . And then that blasted goose nearly had my ankles on the corner.’ It hadn’t escaped anyone’s notice that, having time on her hands to consider her options, had essentially meant that Lizzie’s get-up-and-go had got-up-and-gone. For as exhausting as Lizzie could be when she got revved up, it was still preferable to the lethargy and indecisiveness she’d been exhibiting recently. And every single time Holly tried to ask how the anxiety therapy was going, Lizzie kept cutting her off at the pass. Holly was all for honouring confidentiality in therapy, but she was feeling seriously out of the loop.

  Lizzie held her hand to the stitch in her side and tossed the carrier bag through the open passenger door towards Holly.

  ‘Thanks for picking these up. I know it was a bit last minute, but Grant at the print shop was so sweet this morning when I called and I just couldn’t resist!’ She pulled out the four silver bomber jackets and her face lit up when she saw the legend ‘Team Elsie’ emblazoned across the back with a large number on each.

  Grace grinned as she rang the doorbell yet again, waiting for Elsie to make an appearance. ‘Quick, let’s put them on!’

  ‘You called?’ chirped Elsie, opening the heavy panelled door with surprising force for an ailing octogenarian. Dressed with aplomb in a tailored pair of cashmere jogging bottoms and a linen t-shirt, it was clear she meant business. Grace and Lizzie had just had time to slip into their jackets and the three women did jazz hands in front of Holly’s battered Golf, the midday sunlight glinting off the silver lamé. Elsie raised an eyebrow. ‘You’re all quite, quite mad, you know that?’ she said.

  She tried to look as though all this silliness was beneath her, but the twinkle in her eye was hard to miss.

  ‘We’re your crack support team,’ said Holly gleefully. She flung open the boot. ‘We have jazzy trainers for the ultimate in hospital gym fashion, we have Heat magazine, prosciutto paninis and Gin & Tonic-in-a-can for after – just the one to share – as it’s a school day! What do you think?’

  ‘I think,’ said Elsie, the smile now hovering closer to her lips as Grace helped her into the Number One jacket, ‘that I’m prepared to give you all the benefit of the doubt.’ She slid into the passenger seat with a regal air and only leapt fractionally out of her skin when Holly started the engine and the summer soundtrack she’d compiled for this morning blared out across the Market Place – the perky proclamation that they were Walking On Sunshine startling Gerald the goose into a display of honking and scarpering that had them all in pieces as they drove away.

  ‘Good God,’ said Grace, as Lizzie, Holly and Elsie sang along at the top of their voices. ‘If this is what you three are like when you’re sober, what on earth will you be like with a drink inside you?’

  ‘What on earth makes you think that we’re sober?’ cried Elsie happily. ‘We have things to celebrate, ladies. Exciting times ahead!’

  Holly looked across at Lizzie in confusion. Elsie’s unexpectedly exuberant reaction to her first rehabilitation clinic had thrown her a little – perhaps the silver lamé had been de trop and tipped her over the edge?

  Elsie caught the look and leaned in. ‘I’m going to be immortalised in print, darling! They called just now to offer me a deal. Isn’t that wonderful?’ She shrugged happily. ‘Obviously I’m playing hard to get—’

  Lizzie rolled her eyes, her own dreams of becoming a published author mothballed along with all of her other schemes and plans. ‘Just take the deal, Elsie. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get a publisher these days?’

  Elsie shook her head. ‘Not really. I just phoned them up and offered. Is that not how it normally works?’ She waited a beat and then winked at Lizzie. ‘I know, I know, I’m a very lucky girl and I promise to behave.’

  She leaned across and tooted the horn as they drove past a building site, making Holly blush. ‘You could start now if you like,’ Holly protested under her breath, as she concentrated on weaving through the traffic on the outskirts of Bath.

  ‘They keep talking about this book being my legacy though, darlings. It makes me feel like the sodding Olympics! It really won’t stand. Not to mention, they’re being incredibly tiresome about publishing dates. I told them it had to go to print this year, but they will insist on talking about next year’s list and taking some time to build my brand.’ Elsie sighed, obviously piqued. ‘I shall have to speak up, because I rather think my public know who I am already.’ She paused for a moment. ‘And let’s be honest, who knows how long I’ve got left?’

  There was a sudden silence in the car, the mood instantly punctured. Holly reached across and squeezed her hand. ‘There’s plenty of time. We do the rehab, we do the diet, we take one day at a time. It really wouldn’t be the end of the world if the book came out next year, you know. Please don’t let the fear of what might be colour your judgement too much – all your test results are so promising and there’s so much we can do to get you back on fighting form—’

  ‘Oh my love, aren’t you sweet with the bullshit,’ Elsie interrupted, patting her hand, before pointedly placing it back on the steering wheel. ‘Now, why don’t you concentrate on staying in the right lane? Your driving is probably my number one risk factor for another stroke right now.’

  As Elsie did her rehabilitation assessment in a hospital department with walls the colour of rancid brie, the others twiddled their thumbs in the soulless coffee shop. The hospital had clearly tried so hard to lift the mood in the sweeping atrium and a volunteer in a neon tabard was playing Scott Joplin for all she was worth on a grand piano surrounded by glossy green plants. But the fact remained that every single person in the coffee shop was there under sufferance – nobody wanted to be eating cardboard sandwiches and drinking crappy coffee as they waited for news of their loved ones.

  Only a new dad, clutching a giant teddy bear and a vast balloon claiming ‘It’s a boy’ brought any amusement to the proceedings, as he dozed off in the queue and the balloon took flight, soaring up to the higher concourse to join a selection of others. ‘Happens all the time,’ said the bored-looking girl clearing the table next to them.

  ‘You know,’ said Grace, ‘if Elsie has to come in every week, this is going to be her undoing. She only agreed to come today under sufferance – how’s she going to be a month down the line? I reckon the prospect of sitting here would be more damaging than helpful, don’t you? We need to keep her spirits up, not depress the hell out of her.’

  Holly nodded. ‘I did call to see if we could get private sessions on her healthcare policy, but everybody said the same thing – the treatment centre here is second to none and she’d actually be missing out on the quality of the speech therapy by going privately. So—’ she held out her hands in dismay. ‘Here we are.’

  Lizzie frowned. ‘Listen to you two – it’s not that bad. It’s clean and bright and the treatment is apparently great . . . so she has to walk through the café of doom to get there – we’ll take it in turns to bring her and whisk her past the sobbing relatives.’ She paused for a moment. ‘I’m being insensitive, aren’t I? I mean, you two can�
��t skive off work every time Elsie needs physio, can you?’

  Holly caught Grace’s eye and they both looked uncomfortable. Like it or not though, it was a factor to take into account.

  ‘Will you let me do this?’ Lizzie said quietly. ‘I feel like I need something at the moment? I mean, it’s all very well being a stay-at-home mum, but with the kids at school in September, I’ll just be a stay-at-home, won’t I?’

  Grace took her hand. ‘Don’t kid yourself, just because they’re at school doesn’t mean you won’t be busy. It kind of snowballs, as I recall. Soon you’ll be up at midnight drying sports kit, baking cupcakes for the bake-sale they forgot to tell you about until bedtime and hemming random nativity costumes.’

  Lizzie smiled, grateful for the advice and Holly sat quietly, taking it all in. She had to confess that, in her naïvety, she had also assumed that getting the twins to school would be the beginning of life-getting-easier.

  Grace continued and the niggling jealous feeling that Holly had been harbouring towards her began to slowly release its grip. So, Elsie’s conversation had been peppered with ‘Grace says . . .’ or ‘Grace thinks . . .’ for the last few weeks. Surely it was actually a blessing for Elsie to have another ally in Larkford. God knows, Holly was finding it hard enough keeping her plates spinning, knowing that Grace was a little more flexible with her commitments and happy to step in to keep Elsie company should be a cause for celebration.

  ‘You’re so like Dan,’ Grace said. ‘Perhaps there’s a sequence in your family’s DNA that means you have to be on a mission? He’s so committed to his Health in the Community Scheme and seems so much happier for having a sense of purpose and something to focus on.’

  Lizzie nodded. ‘Given the energy and the time, I reckon Dan and I could take over the world, or maybe just Larkford and get things ship-shape in no time.’ She looked pale, Holly thought, as she watched her friend talk, her words in complete contrast to her wan body language.