Practice Makes Perfect

by Penny Parkes

Holly nodded silently, trying to marshal her thoughts. But if anything, this latest turn of events crystallised her thinking in a way that Taffy would probably never understand. If there was one thing more dangerous than a narcissistic Milo out to cause her pain, it was that self-same person with resources behind him. She read the website again and then re-read the terms of the divorce, as laid out by Milo’s solicitor. There was a reasonable stipend for the boys’ living expenses – something she’d earlier been pleasantly surprised to see – but nothing else financial on the table. He did, however, relinquish all custody of Ben and Tom. It was a bold manoeuvre, certainly.

  Holly looked up to find Taffy and Elsie both watching her carefully, as though they were worried that a sudden move might startle her.

  ‘We can take him to the cleaners now, darling,’ Elsie said firmly.

  Holly shook her head. She picked up one of Ben’s marker pens. ‘I don’t think so. If you think about it, I’ve already got the only settlement that really matters. If I’m going to get divorced, I’d rather like to do it on my own terms,’ she said slowly, straightening the papers in front of her and pausing to check with Taffy. ‘Do you think I’m mad?’

  Taffy nodded. ‘Honestly? Yes.’ He leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. ‘But I suppose I shouldn’t have expected anything else.’

  ‘But, but, but . . .’ spluttered Elsie as she realised what Holly was about to do. ‘You can’t just give up on all that money,’ she protested. ‘Think of what you could do with it? School fees? A house? Holly, please, don’t do anything rash.’

  Holly hesitated for a moment, but only to put their minds at rest. The big blue marker pen was still firmly clasped in her hand. ‘But none of that means anything if Ben and Tom are being shuttled back and forth under some transatlantic Access Agreement, having their little personalities bent out of shape. It’s just too high a price to pay. And this way, I can be in control – full custody – flexible, but on my terms.’ She paused. ‘Besides, we’re not doing so badly on our own you know. It’s enough. It’s more than enough.’

  It was hard to tell whether Elsie’s tears were as a result of Holly’s impassioned speech or whether it was the thought of throwing all that money away. She sat back in her chair and sighed. ‘Go on, then. Do the deed and I’ll be your witness. Terribly bad taste to have your live-in-lover sign one’s divorce papers.’ She paused and gave a flicker of a smile. ‘Apparently.’

  The room was silent as Holly scrawled her signature across the papers in triplicate. As she finished, she let out a little sigh and Elsie was quick to respond.

  ‘We can just burn them and start again if you’ve got Divorcee’s Remorse?’

  Holly shook her head and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. ‘It’s finally over. It’s done. I’m free at last.’ She looked up at Taffy with tears shimmering on her lashes and gave him a lingering kiss. ‘Don’t go getting any ideas though, will you?’ she said with a cheeky smile.

  Taffy looked disquieted for a moment, as though comforting his girlfriend over the end of her marriage was a step too far in his quest to be a sensitive soul, or perhaps he was just jolted by her immediate reflex to ask him to stand down. Elsie on the other hand looked completely at ease – after all, she’d been through this process a few times herself and knew what was coming next.

  Holly’s smile of sheer relief and joy gradually emerged and she stood up. ‘Well, if this isn’t an excuse for celebration, I don’t know what is!’ she declared. She rummaged around in the fridge and emerged looking bemused with a very smart bottle of bubbly in her hands. ‘I don’t remember buying this. Taffs, is this yours?’

  Taffy laughed. ‘I bought it for a special occasion. You know – just in case. I think this kind of fits the bill . . .’ He reached over to the dresser and pulled down three champagne flutes, but Holly ignored them and grabbed three tumblers from the cupboard. Taffy couldn’t be sure, but he thought he’d last seen them full of Nutella.

  ‘Not those, Taffy,’ Holly said, pushing the flutes to one-side. ‘They were a wedding present. In fact . . . Elsie, will you help me do the honours?’

  Elsie was on her feet in a moment. ‘On three?’ she queried, before Taffy had even cottoned on to what they were up to.

  The sound of glasses breaking in the sink had a wonderful clarity and chime to it. ‘The Liberty Bell!’ declared Elsie. ‘And we can add another toast to our list.’ She picked up her tumbler of fizz and though her hand may have trembled slightly as she downed the bubbles – against doctor’s orders, of course – there was a feeling around the kitchen table that the evening had been the start of something special. ‘To new beginnings and the future. Long may it last!’

  ‘I’m so glad you’re feeling a little better . . .’ Holly ventured as she tucked Elsie up in the spare room later that night, the long day having finally caught up with her as her pharmaceutical high had worn off.

  ‘I’m so glad you walked away from the money actually,’ countered Elsie. ‘Life really is too short, you know.’ She sat up abruptly. ‘There it is – the name of my book – we’ll call it Life’s Too Short.’

  ‘I like it,’ said Holly simply. ‘It kind of resonates.’

  Elsie snuggled down under the Bob the Builder duvet cover and caught hold of Holly’s hand. ‘With me too, darling girl. With me too.’

  ‘Thank you for tonight, Elsie. I mean it. Without you, I would never have known the full story, would I?’

  ‘Seems I’m the golden goose today,’ said Elsie with a tired smile.

  ‘Fairy Godmother, more like,’ Holly teased her, switching out the bedside light.

  ‘Bippety Boppity Fucking Boo,’ rang Elsie’s reply drily in the darkness. ‘You don’t hear much about her, do you, once Cinderella gets her man? Superfluous to requirements . . .’

  ‘And that’s why fairy tales are crap,’ interjected Holly. ‘Because in this version the Fairy Godmother becomes an honorary granny and far too loved and special to ignore.’

  ‘Oof,’ replied Elsie. ‘Easy on the treacle, darling. Let’s just be grateful that we both get to start over.’ She paused and Holly quietly stood up to leave. ‘If we’re going to be brave, Holly, let’s jump in with both feet, yes?’

  Holly smiled. ‘I was thinking I might.’

  Elsie drifted off to sleep. ‘Lovely bubbles tonight, Holly. Your Taffy has excellent taste.’

  My Taffy, mused Holly, as she locked up for the night and checked in on the twins. Suddenly those two words held a world of possibilities.

  Chapter 41

  Dropping the twins off at pre-school by 8 a.m. was always a challenge, but knowing that they had to be there punctually the next morning had obviously been tempting fate a little too far. One disassembled alarm clock (Ben), one tantrum over the need to wash (Tom) and one slightly unexpected grump over the choice of morning breakfast cereal (Elsie) meant that they were all running late before the day even began. Despite all this though, Holly couldn’t stop singing to herself. She’d plastered on extra postage, just to make sure, and sent off her signed divorce papers with a deep breath and a spring in her step. The relief was greater than she’d even dared hope, even if it did come with an oddly bitter aftertaste that she couldn’t quite identify – like winning by default.

  Even a nervous Mrs Harlow, on the warpath before the Ofsted inspector arrived, wasn’t enough to throw her off her stride.

  Holly crouched down and tucked Tom’s shirt into his shorts. The odds of it staying there were slim to none, but at least Holly felt that she was making the effort. She kissed them both gently on the cheek, Ben’s little soft hand resting on her neck as she did so. ‘You will be good today, won’t you? Because you see that man with the clipboard? Well, he’s very important and you want him to see that you’re both very helpful and kind.’

  Tom sighed crossly. ‘Home’s more fun. This is just boring.’ He said the last part so loudly that it echoed around the courtyard and Holly could see the vein pulsing menacingly in
Mrs Harlow’s forehead. As her doctor, Holly wanted to question how this might affect her blood pressure; as a working mother, she thought it was about time that Mrs Harlow knew the true meaning of the word stress. Holly kissed the boys again and ushered them towards the cloakroom, wondering how to confirm her own suspicions that their recent bad behaviour was merely a symptom of the lack of supervision and stimulation they were receiving at pre-school.

  As she turned to leave, trying to avoid Mrs Harlow’s glare, the Ofsted inspector materialised at her elbow and Holly managed a smile. ‘Sorry about that.’

  ‘No problem. I’m Richard Holder by the way.’ He held out his hand to shake. ‘I’d like to talk to you about the Gifted and Talented programme here. Your boys’ test scores alone indicate it’s worth us having a chat.’

  As Holly dashed through reception, late again and barely pausing to wave hello, she couldn’t stop thinking about what Mr Holder had said: exceptional scores . . . high IQ . . . Gifted and Talented programme . . . All these words ran through her mind and made her wonder how she could possibly have missed it. Not to mention how Mrs Harlow could have omitted to tell her. She thought about her recurring dream of all the spinning plates and tried not to read anything into the fact that, last night, she had dropped every single one. Another parenting triumph.

  She smiled though, as she remembered the inspector’s spot-on joke that you could always identify the parents of a G-and-T child, because they needed a stiff G&T every evening to cope with their child’s constant questioning and inquisitive cross-examination. By that token, having twins, Holly thought she must be due a double at least.

  The morning went downhill from there frankly, and by the time Holly had dealt with an infected toe-nail, a coil removal that did not go to plan and at least three patients sobbing in front of her, Holly felt like joining in. The sun was shining outside her window and the closest she would get to being outside today would be walking home via Marion’s for an emergency Chicken Kiev, since she’d clearly forgotten to get supper out of the freezer before she left.

  Taffy poked his head around the door. ‘Listen, I’m finishing early to head down and do the health and safety assessment for the Rugby Club. Do you think Mrs Harlow would breathe actual fire if I scooped up the twins afterwards and took them for a swim – it’s such a beautiful day, it’s a bit criminal for us all to be cooped up inside.’

  Holly nodded. ‘I was just thinking the same thing. Are you going down to the River Club? I could swing by on the way home if you think you might still be there?’

  Taffy left the room whistling and Holly tried not to feel envious. Surely she should be grateful that there was someone else looking out for the boys too? The words of the Ofsted inspector clashed in her mind with the shattering of plates from her dream – she only hoped she hadn’t been too hasty in turning down the chance to go after Milo’s filthy lucre. Would Mr Holder be suggesting all sorts of expensive courses to keep them fully engaged and on the straight and narrow?

  After a succession of patients clearly designed to torment and exhaust her, all Holly could think about was getting home.

  The recent feeling that she was ‘on call’ in her home life, as well as in her professional life, had begun to take its toll: Elsie, the twins, solicitors . . . They were all pulling on her time and attention in ways she hadn’t foreseen. Even Lizzie was getting the short-end of the straw these days and their new text-based relationship wasn’t half as fulfilling as their sitting-in-the-pub-with-a-Pimm’s version. She didn’t feel as though any one of them were getting her undivided attention at the moment – God knows, Taffy seemed to be getting more quality time with her boys than she did and Lizzie was now unwilling to relinquish her temporary role as Elsie’s Hospital Companion. She didn’t even have time to stress about this Model Surgery farce or indeed little Coco. She slammed her desk drawer shut with annoyance, frustrated at how short-changed she was feeling when there were so many things to be grateful for.

  Moments later, Dan was standing in Holly’s doorway, car keys grasped in his hand and Holly had that awful sensation when you stand up too quickly and the world seemed to kaleidoscope around her. Her thoughts rearranged themselves like a game of Tetris, slotting into place in a different formation.

  ‘Holly, darling, we need to go to the hospital. Ben’s there already, on his way into X-ray and Taffy’s with him. They think he’s swallowed a battery.’

  All the way into Bath, Holly was mentally running checklists in her head. It didn’t seem to matter that the nurse in the ICU had been fulsome in her praise on the phone just now, as Dan flicked on his hazard warning lights and wove through the traffic on the outskirts of the city, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. His skill in tactical driving was obviously yet another remnant of army life that he’d never forgotten.

  Apparently Taffy’s quick thinking might have made ‘all the difference’ to Ben’s chances of recovery, yet that made no difference to the overwhelming sensation of guilt Holly felt for not being there. Holly didn’t even want to think about what that might mean. When it came to these tiny coin-sized batteries, one could only hope that he’d swallowed it properly. Lodging in his oesophagus would be the worst-case scenario, causing a blockage, or corrosive leakage, or even a fistula. A little knowledge on this front for Holly was a dangerous thing, as her imagination ran riot through the possibilities.

  They hurtled to the entrance of the hospital in record time and Holly ran. As she buzzed the door of the Emergency Care Unit, she could feel her breath coming short and fast, her fingertips tingling as she struggled against the urge to hyperventilate. The moment of waiting before the doors swung open to admit her giving her just enough time to find a semblance of balance – she was here to support Ben, not frighten the life out of him.

  The first face she saw was Taffy’s, stricken and pale. The sight hit her like a body-blow to the chest. ‘Is he . . . ?’ she managed.

  Taffy engulfed her shaking body in his arms, talking calmly and slowly as he did so. ‘He’s okay and they’ve got the X-rays done, although he was all over the place and they had to sedate him a little. We’ve worked out it was a Lithium cell, which is obviously the best possible option from a poisoning perspective and they’ve given him some oral antacids in case it will reduce corrosion of the cell, plus a low-dose metoclopramide to encourage the gastric-emptying. They’re really on top of this, Holly – you can breathe now, honestly.’ He drew her towards a curtained-off bay. ‘Come and see for yourself.’

  Nothing had quite prepared her though, for the sight of her little boy, ashen and sleepy, with monitors bleeping. She took his little hand in hers and whispered to him over and over that she was here now. He opened his eyes sleepily and looked as though he was about to cry. ‘Sorry, Mummy,’ he said, before dozing off again.

  She swallowed down the tears of relief and murmured sweet nothings and reassurances into his ear. There was nothing to be sorry for. They could deal with recriminations and analysis later. At that thought she turned to Taffy. ‘What happened?’ she whispered.

  Taffy pulled over a chair for her, sensing that there was no way she’d be relinquishing her hold on Ben’s hand anytime soon.

  ‘I got there just after lunch and, you were right, Mrs Harlow was rather sniffy about me taking the boys out early. Said that Ben had been making a fuss all morning, saying he was bored, being a nuisance. Stupid, stupid woman,’ he cursed, side-tracked in his narrative by his obvious disdain for Mrs Harlow’s lack of attention. ‘Anyway, she gave him some old toys to take apart; thought it would keep him quiet, apparently.’ He shrugged. ‘I don’t know why, but it put me on guard as soon as she said that. And then when we got to the car, Ben kept rubbing at his chest, coughing a bit. It was all so, well, weird really. You know Ben doesn’t make a fuss about nothing, does he? I mean if it were Tom . . .’

  He swallowed hard to collect himself, but Holly was listening to every word, even if her eyes had not once left Ben’s face. She felt incr
edibly lucky that Taffy knew her boys well enough – knew which one was the brave soldier and which one could moan and whine about the slightest paper cut. She nodded.

  ‘Well, I got them to the car and told them we were going swimming at the River Club and – well – nothing. And you know how Ben loves the river?’

  Taffy glossed over the moment when he’d pulled the Land Rover to one side and given Ben a thorough once over. Nothing specific to tip him off, just a lacklustre little boy with a headache and a sore chest. He didn’t mention the internal dialogue he’d fought over – knowing that the advice he’d give his patients to go home, keep a close eye and rest up, suddenly didn’t feel proactive enough for the little boy in his care.

  ‘You’re going to think I’m mad, Holly, but I thought I’d drive into Bath – call it a Sixth Sense, if you like. Worst-case scenario, he has a little nap in the car and we go out for ice cream. I just wanted to be near the hospital, you know, just in case.’

  Holly turned to look at him properly then, at the hollowed expression of fear in his eyes. How could she have thought that she would have caught this sooner? He’d basically brought Ben here on nothing but a gut-feeling.

  ‘It wasn’t until we were parking up here that Ben started talking about the toys and the funny shiny button. And then I knew.’

  Holly’s eyes filled with tears. ‘Well then, he’s a very lucky boy. Thank you, Taffy.’ The words didn’t seem enough somehow, but they were all Holly could spare, seeing Ben so fragile. She looked around. ‘Where’s Tom?’

  Taffy nodded his head towards the nurses’ station, where Tom was tucked up in a swivelling chair, happily playing Candy Crush on Taffy’s phone. ‘He’s had a snack and all the nurses at his beck and call – he’s pretty much unfazed by the whole thing, as far as I can tell.’

  For the first time Holly noticed the sticker on Taffy’s breast pocket, marking him out as visiting staff. ‘What’s with the . . .?’ she asked.