by Penny Parkes
The Major said nothing. Marion trembled and the torch light wobbled, until Julia gently whispered to her, ‘You’re doing okay, just try and breathe and hold it still. He’ll be okay. I’ll make sure he’s okay.’
With no tweezers to be found, despite Teddy hollering at every woman in the bar to empty their handbags and check, Julia only hoped that her skill with chopsticks would be enough. She held the drink stirrers in one hand and slowly breathed out. She could see the offending Twiglet wedged sideways at the far reaches of Grover’s throat and the last thing she wanted to do was to push it down further.
She slid the stirrers in until she could feel them take hold and then slowly, slowly, slowly began to withdraw the blockage from his throat. At the last moment, the little dog convulsed and gagged and threw up all over her shoes. He coughed and heaved and then threw up some more, before giving himself a shake and licking Julia’s hand.
In that moment, there was nobody else in the world but herself and that little dog and she scooped him into her arms and sobbed into his fur. The sheer relief from saving him, the sheer bloody hideousness of her day caught up with her and she couldn’t stop.
‘Aw, Dr Channing,’ said Marion. ‘And you said you weren’t a dog person.’
The very gratitude and affection in her voice made Julia sob even harder. It was only when the Major reached over and rescued Grover that she was able to pull herself together.
‘Go easy there, Dr Channing,’ he said, his voice all choked. ‘It would be a shame to suffocate the poor little bugger when you’ve only just saved his life.’ A fleeting clasp of her hand was filled with gratitude and respect, but his attention was reserved for Grover.
‘You daft little sod,’ he crooned to his dog. ‘I told you all that junk food would be the death of you.’
It took a little while after all the excitement had died down for Julia to slip away. She’d spent the last twenty minutes longing for solitude to get her thoughts in order, but when she finally had it, she couldn’t bear the cacophony of voices in her head.
She couldn’t begin to place the unfamiliar emotion at first. It niggled at the edge of her consciousness, toying with her emotions. Just then, in the pub, as she’d held Grover’s trembling body, there’d been a startling moment of clarity. It was the first time, in a very long time, that she’d done anything without thinking of herself first. And it felt amazing. Terrifying too, but definitely something she wanted to explore. If only she knew where to start.
It was strange to her how life was all a question of timing. If her mother had come to visit on a different week, without the press lurking around every corner, would things have turned out differently? If she hadn’t been feeling so utterly flummoxed just now in her car, would she even have taken Quentin’s call?
It was immaterial to analyse that now, she realised, as she pulled up outside Quentin’s townhouse in Bath. Parking the car on a double yellow and shoving a ‘Doctor on Call’ card in the windscreen, the irony of the situation made her wince. She smoothed her hair down and looked up at the sash windows, trying to work out which one was his bedroom and whether she might be seeing this view from the other side tonight.
There was nothing rational about Julia’s decision-making this evening; it was almost as though she were wired to self-destruct. Even saving Grover and earning the gratitude of her neighbours had only served to remind her how much she stood to lose. Perhaps it was the easiest way? To go out with a bang?
She checked her phone for messages. Nothing. Even though she had expected that, it still hurt. Surely Holly and Taffy knew what had happened by now?
It wasn’t the first time and it wouldn’t be the last that Julia questioned the progress she had made in Larkford. True, she had friends and a social life, even a smattering of social skills, now. But was she necessarily any happier than when she had been more self-contained? She certainly felt more vulnerable now, knowing she had so much more to lose. She took a deep breath, wanting to find some solace or distraction from the pain.
Quentin’s front door swung open, the light illuminating her car and, as he strode towards her through the rain, Julia couldn’t help but think that oblivion in his arms sounded like a very good distraction indeed.
Chapter 36
To say that Holly was pissed off the next morning would be understating her position by an exponentially growing factor. It was one thing to receive a phone call at breakfast time asking you to come in early to see a patient; it was quite another when it was a journalist and photographer awaiting your arrival.
Harry Grant from the Primary Care Trust had been terribly apologetic. ‘I can’t get hold of Julia and I’m really in a bind here, Holly. Please, just this once, can you do the interview?’ He’d muttered something about deadlines and edicts from Derek Landers and then echoed Taffy’s misgivings about there being no such thing as a free lunch almost word for word. Their status as a Model Surgery was already eliciting far more interest than they had bargained for. Now buzzwords like ‘transparency’ and ‘accountability’ and ‘consensus management’ were being tossed around in the national press. Having a photograph of Julia looking like a catwalk model had certainly piqued a little interest; that self-same picture twinned with one of her mother on the lash had all but crashed the NHS Twitter feed.
The Powers That Be were not happy, sweaty Derek Landers was loving every column inch of their downfall and now Harry Grant was calling in a favour. His high regard for Holly after her Save The Practice campaign had made her the obvious choice to step into the breach – that and the fact that he had held on to her unlisted home phone number. And it didn’t look as though she was going to get much choice in the matter, irrespective of how incredibly uncomfortable it made her feel.
Hence the dress. And the make-up. And the vertiginous heels that were elegant and elongating but eminently impractical. But, no matter how ridiculously overdressed she might be feeling, Holly had to concede that wearing the beautiful Diane von Furstenberg wrap dress for the meeting with Elsie’s publisher had made her feel powerful, competent and in control. Exactly the feelings she was lacking today. So, since basically six o’clock that morning, Holly had been repeatedly, and a little maniacally, mumbling under her breath, ‘What would Elsie do?’
She’d also been trying not to think about where Julia might have disappeared to, having tried every single phone number she could think of and left a series of increasingly worried messages. Whatever had gone on between Julia and Dan, Julia was her friend too, even if she was no stranger to a little melodrama.
Holly just wanted to know that she was okay and alive somewhere, preferably so she could find her and then kill her for landing her with this media circus.
‘Bloody bastard interview,’ cursed Holly as she snagged her tights for the second time in as many minutes. In fact, if Taffy hadn’t plied her with an emergency bacon sandwich and a strong espresso, Holly couldn’t truly have vouched for anyone’s safety today.
He looked tired and dishevelled after their abrupt start to the day, but nevertheless he was making time for her. Again. Making time to drop the twins with Lizzie. Calming her nerves. Making her a priority.
The sudden flush of guilt as she dashed through the streets of Larkford took Holly by surprise – when had she ever done the same for him?
Walking into reception moments later, Holly was immediately gratified to see early-birds Grace and Lucy look impressed at her new polished appearance. Perhaps it had been worth the ridiculous effort after all? ‘Will I do as your responsible and refined representative?’ she joked, striking a pose and nearly falling over her own feet.
Lucy snorted with laughter appreciatively. ‘Well, at least you haven’t gone all hoity-toity in that posh frock. I did wonder there for a minute and to be honest, there’s only room for one Alpha female in this practice.’
‘I’m not an Alpha female,’ said Grace, batting the compliment away, before realising that – (a) it wasn’t a compliment and (b) it wasn’
t intended for her.
Holly grinned and balanced her bottom on the edge of Grace’s desk, for fear of creasing. ‘We obviously know that you’re the powerhouse here, Gracie, but we’re keeping it under the radar in case the NHS try and poach you away with the promise of chocolate on your Hobnobs.’
Grace looked from side to side and pulled open a desk drawer that was stuffed with fancy chocolate biscuits. ‘We may have cut back in the doctors’ lounge, but the admin team have a secret kitty. We’ll cut you in, if you promise to keep it under your hat.’
Holly laughed. ‘I still think you should have just rationed the boys – they eat like they’re teenagers.’
She took the proffered biscuit and leaned forward to nibble it without getting crumbs on her dress – it rather undid the whole elegant, poised image she was trying to portray. ‘Did they say what time they’d be here? My shadows for the day?’
Grace looked up. ‘Oh, they’re already here, Holly. Doing some vox pops in the car park with the patients. Didn’t you get my text?’
Holly nearly choked on her biscuit, as she hurriedly brushed away a few stray crumbs and checked her teeth for give-away chocolate chips. ‘How the hell Julia does this every day without going insane, I do not know.’ She took a deep breath.
‘I am calm, confident and capable,’ Holly muttered over and over, just as Elsie had taught her. She pulled open the door and pasted on a smile.
‘Harry,’ she said, shaking him by the hand, as he apologetically mouthed ‘sorry’ at her. ‘And Derek too, how lovely to see you again. So glad we could make this happen today.’ She turned to the journalist who was young and eager and basically Holly’s worst nightmare. ‘Hi, I’m Holly Graham,’ she said. ‘Let’s pop inside and get you a coffee before we open up and you can tell me what you’d like to see.’
Gary Hynde paused the recording he was making on his iPhone and shook her hand. She fought every instinct in her body not to instantly wipe off the sweat from his limp, clammy palm. ‘All in good time, Dr Graham, or Holly? May I call you Holly?’
‘Of course,’ she managed, trying to be obliging but already prickling at his intimate tone and invasive once-over.
‘I’ve just been having a lovely chat with some of your patients out here. Catch them on the way in, you know.’ The unspoken sequitur of ‘before you can brief them’ hung in the air. Derek Landers said nothing, he just looked smug and Holly knew in that instant that he had been the one to organise this at short notice, hoping to catch them on the hop.
Holly just smiled, having a quick glance around the car park to see whether those patients had been friend or foe. If he’d happened upon one of their Midweek Moaners, they may as well shut up shop and go home now.
Charlotte Lansing tapped Holly smartly on the shoulder, her wicker basket slung over one arm and her quilted jacket looking, as always, in need of a jolly good wash. Her vowels may be perfectly crystal clear and well honed, but the same could not be said for the other residents of Blackleigh Farm – except possibly the horses, who Holly gathered, enjoyed four-star accommodation. ‘Don’t look so worried, Dr Graham, we’ve already told them how wonderful you are and that you take fabulously good care of all your ladies.’
She made it sound as though Holly popped round to their afternoon tea parties for individual consultations, like something out of a Jane Austen novel, but Holly still managed to hold on to her smile. We’re a modern, forward-thinking practice, she told herself, and Gary can see that for himself in just a minute.
‘And of course, Mrs Lansing kindly filled us in about Dr Channing,’ Gary said, watching her reaction carefully.
‘Wonderful,’ said Holly faintly.
‘Ooh, Dr Graham,’ said Mrs Lansing, unable to restrain herself, ‘I heard all about what Dr Channing did last night. I have to admit, I was a little bit shocked – I mean you don’t expect it, do you? Not from her, anyway. So I was saying to Mr Hynde, just now, you should never judge a book by its cover should you? Shocking really.’
‘Well, yes,’ Holly gulped, silently offering a prayer to the universe for a small seizure or collapse of some kind to strike her down at this point – nothing lasting, obviously, and preferably not too painful either, but just enough to make this stop.
‘I mean it’s a good thing, obviously. We all had her down as a bit starchy, you know.’
‘Quite,’ said Holly, wondering if she could fake a small heart attack without arousing suspicion. Failing that, could she claim temporary insanity, if she strangled Julia later for putting her in this unbearable position?
‘And Mr Hynde here was terribly interested, weren’t you?’ Mrs Lansing continued as she turned to Holly, ‘It’s the human angle, isn’t it? And he wants to get some photographs too, while it’s all fresh in everybody’s mind.’
I’ll bet he does, thought Holly, wondering how colourful and photogenic Dan’s forehead would be this morning. Almost certainly vivid enough to warrant a full-colour spread, she thought.
Mrs Lansing sighed. ‘Now if I’d known all this time that Dr Channing was a dog person, I’d probably have liked her a little bit more, you know,’ she said confidentially.
Maybe I am actually having a seizure, Holly thought. Maybe this is what it feels like. Either that or her new support tights really were too tight and there was no blood returning to her brain. The conversation around her seemed to make no sense at all and with Gary Hynde’s beady eyes watching her every move, it didn’t seem like a good idea to admit that she’d been holding her breath for so long, she could no longer feel her fingertips.
‘You’re not a dog-lover yourself then, Holly? You look spectacularly underwhelmed by your colleague’s courageous rescue,’ Derek Landers probed.
‘Oh, Dr Graham has a beautiful Labradoodle, don’t you, Dr Graham? It’s a funny story actually . . .’ said Charlotte Lansing, finally catching on that all was not well, as she tucked her arm through Derek Landers’ and expertly manoeuvred him towards the front door. She cast a concerned glance back in Holly’s direction, but prattled on all the way inside.
Harry Grant looked terribly uncomfortable as he dropped back to talk to Holly. ‘I’m so sorry about this. I just didn’t get much notice . . . I know a heads-up would have been helpful.’
‘You could say that,’ said Holly distractedly, still trying to eavesdrop on whatever tale Mrs Lansing was spinning.
‘Frankly, thank God for Dr Channing’s heroics – it’s all anyone has been talking about,’ he said with an exhausted sigh.
Holly gave him a sideways look. There was nothing about throwing a stapler at Dan’s head that would count as heroic in her book and what the hell did that have to do with dogs? So far as Holly could tell, pets were just another weakness as far as Julia was concerned. Jesus – she’d barely been on board with the idea of Alice having an assistance dog at work . . .
‘Do you ever feel like everybody knows something that you don’t?’ Holly asked him.
Harry raised one eyebrow. ‘Oh, Holly. I work for the NHS. I feel that way every single day.’
Credit where credit was due, when Gary Hynde had requested a shadow day, he really meant it. Derek had bowed out after the first excruciating half hour, but not before making it known that he was watching their every move. And now Gary was lurking two paces behind Holly every step of her day, almost as though he’d been specifically briefed. It had taken a rather awkward moment when he’d attempted to follow her into the Ladies’ for Holly to spell out her terms. ‘Gary, it’s wonderful having you here and obviously, we want to show you everything, but I think we can both agree that you’re taking your brief a little too literally.’
She’d tried to inject enough humour into her voice that he wouldn’t take offence, attempting to channel Elsie once again and her ability to manipulate almost anyone to her best advantage. ‘I just need a moment . . .’ she clarified, realising that her supplicating tone and constant use of her new bêtenoire ‘just’ would not be something that Elsie would eve
n contemplate.
Leaning her head against the cool tile in the bathroom, Holly couldn’t believe how exhausting she found this constant scrutiny. Surely nobody on the planet, let alone in the cosy world of Larkford, could bear up to such close inspection? She was beginning to understand how Julia’s brittle mood swings might actually be a by-product of her camera-shaped shadow.
Checking her phone and finding no response from Julia at all, she swallowed the awkward realisation that – had it been Lizzie in trouble – she wouldn’t have satisfied herself with a few hurried texts and voicemails, she would have been physically knocking on her front door. But between hearing Dan’s side of things, dealing with the monsters in Ben’s wardrobe all night and then the farce that was her morning . . . Well, there hadn’t really been a moment, had there, she justified.
She stepped out into the corridor, full of resolve to cut herself some slack – seeing their working life through Gary’s tiny little eyes, was beginning to give her an entirely different perspective. Every single one of the team was diligent and compassionate, prepared to go the extra mile, even when the man-on-the-street would be calling time. This patience, this nurturing side of their characters, always wanting to give 100 per cent, was something she was in danger of taking for granted.
Speaking of which, she watched Taffy parry Gary’s intrusive questions with calm authority, as he led him away from whatever emotional meltdown appeared to be taking place in the waiting room. For them, it was a regular part of their working day, but for Gary – on a hair trigger for a ‘story’ – who knew what he might choose to focus on?