Out of Practice (20 page)

‘Jesus, Holl! I was only teasing and that was, like, 27 “and”s in one sentence there. Is there something you want to talk about?’

‘No,’ said Holly firmly, catching hold of herself. ‘Don’t be silly, of course there’s nothing to talk about. I’m married.’

‘Hmm. Well that didn’t seem to stop your husband ogling every blonde on campus. No one would blame you for having a little flirt with the dishy doctor, you know. And you have to
admit that Taffy Jones ticks an awful lots of boxes . . .’

‘So does Milo,’ insisted Holly loyally, but even to her own ears, her voice sounded hollow and unconvincing. ‘And what’s the point in having principles if you don’t
live by them. Otherwise, otherwise,’ she said vehemently, ‘we’re all one step away from being like Henry Bruce!’

‘Alright. Steady. Point taken,’ said Lizzie quietly, draining her drink without even flinching. ‘Dare I ask how His Lordship has taken the news about the ructions at
work?’

Holly said nothing.

‘Holls? You are going to have to tell him, you know. Especially if there’s a chance, however small, that you might be out of a job.’

‘I know. You’re right. But to be honest?’ Holly sipped her drink. ‘Between you and me, I just can’t deal with his drama at the moment. So there’s no point
mentioning it really, not until I know more. And the more I think about it, I was probably right and this partnership debacle might just be a storm in a teacup. I know they’re all at each
other’s throats now, but it’ll all be sorted in a week, I reckon.

‘You’ve worked with Julia Channing, haven’t you, Lizzie? I mean, she seems a right piece of work and Henry Bruce is just a bit, well, slimy for my taste. So it’s an
obvious choice isn’t it? Dan Carter. And he supported my application, so there’s probably nothing to worry about and I’m just over-reacting.’

Holly looked up to see her friend watching her sceptically. Lizzie wasn’t a journalist for nothing. She had the ability to turn you in knots, get you questioning yourself and blurting out
every secret you’d ever held, just by sitting quietly, saying nothing and letting you hang yourself.

‘What?’ said Holly eventually. ‘Lizzie, if you know something, please tell me. I’m going quietly bonkers over this. I need this job. Milo can kid himself as much as he
likes, but when your Head of Department puts you on unpaid leave for improper conduct, they’re not really expecting you to come back, are they? And I know I promised we’d have a fresh
start when we moved here, but I just don’t know that I can.

‘Lizzie, he still swears blind that it was all innocent, that the girl just misinterpreted something he said. But, I’m not stupid,’ Holly said darkly. ‘There’s no
smoke without fire and the University wouldn’t put him on leave if there was nothing to it. Would they?’

Lizzie just shrugged. They’d been around this particular roundabout more than once before, with Holly alternately supporting or vilifying her husband. ‘Do you want me to make some
calls, go on a fishing expedition? I can be discreet. Or you could actually just ask him. Put him on the spot.’

Holly wrinkled her nose. ‘If I told you there’s no point, because I wouldn’t believe whatever he said, I know what you’d say next.’

Lizzie leaned forward in her chair and grasped Holly’s hand. ‘Run. Run. Run away. Which is actually what I
thought
you were doing when you applied for the job here, to be
fair. I didn’t think for a minute that you’d bring him with you!’

‘I didn’t bring him for me,’ Holly said matter-of-factly. ‘He’s their dad. How can I tell those two boys that I left their father based on a rumour? Seriously? I
know what it’s like to have no dad, remember. I can’t do that to them.’

‘Holly, you must see that this is different. Your dad loved and adored you and he died. Milo is only interested in Milo. You must see that? He is never going to change, no matter how much
you want him to. Does he even appreciate that you’ve given him a second chance or is he back to taking you for granted and ignoring the boys already.’

Holly’s lack of reply was answer enough.

‘Right,’ said Lizzie, driven to frustration at seeing her gutsy, animated, eloquent friend reduced to this. ‘I’m getting in another round and then you can tell me all
about the delicious Dr Jones. There’s no harm in window shopping, is there?’

Holly twisted in her chair to see Taffy still propping up the bar. He and Teddy were in deep conversation, but he turned as she looked, as if he could feel her eyes on him. He smiled gently and
gave a tiny nod, before turning back to Teddy. Shit, thought Holly as her stomach somersaulted and she clung on to her principles, what the hell do I do now?

The two girls passed a couple of happily relaxed hours putting the world to rights. Husbands, children, work, wardrobes – they skipped about like butterflies through each
other’s lives. In the way of friends that have seen each other through a few ups and downs, there was a kind of shorthand to their conversation that would certainly have bemused anyone
attempting to listen in.

Best friends since university, neither of them could remember what life had been like before they’d had each other to laugh with, to moan to and, above all, to rely upon for unconditional
support. Holly valued Lizzie’s outspoken opinions and irreverent wit, but also knew how fragile Lizzie could be, beneath the perfectly honed veneer of the career, the curls and the
confidence. Lizzie meanwhile, did everything she could think of to counteract the damage Milo was doing to Holly’s self-esteem and to find any opportunity for the funny, feisty side of her
friend to shine through.

And of course Eric, their newly time-shared-puppy, would become the glue that held them both together. He clearly loved them both with all the passion in his little doggy heart and his trademark
howl, a gentle, loving woo-oo-oo, had always been reserved only for Holly and Lizzie. Holly claimed that he was trying to say I Love You, but Lizzie had always been adamant that he was actually
trying to recreate Eric Clapton’s hit classic, ‘Layla’. To Lizzie’s mind, it was only logical that he should be named after his rock hero, although most of the town would
comment from time to time, that Eric was an unusual moniker for a dog. Holly didn’t care either way. She would have adored him no matter what.

‘Did I tell you we went for Archie’s interview at Charrington?’ Lizzie said, twirling the stick in her G&T, and name-dropping the exclusive prep school
for boys nearby. ‘Three hours of aptitude tests for a five-year-old! Honestly, the whole thing was a farce. I thought we were doing okay, despite the fact that we had the gall to turn up
without a double-barrelled surname . . .’

Holly started laughing, amused and fascinated in equal measure. ‘I’m sure you could have fudged that one.’

‘No,’ said Lizzie with feeling. ‘It’s Will’s cock-eyed idea anyway. I’m very much take us as we are, or leave us, thank you very much.’

‘And which is it? What was it like?’

‘Well, to be honest, Holls, I think it’s become rather clear that Archie’s not quite the academic elite they’re looking for. The little boy before us had a portfolio of
his work, for Christ’s sake. They were talking about the motivation of Christopher Robin when he goes looking for Winnie the Pooh!’

‘And Archie?’ asked Holly tentatively.

Lizzie grinned. ‘Well, what’s there to say? He’s five. He can’t read, he can’t write and he wants to be a dinosaur . . .’

Holly clapped her hand over her mouth to prevent a spray of gin. ‘So probably not Charrington for you, then? What about Jack?’

‘Nah, we’ve cancelled Jack’s visit. If Archie’s interview didn’t convince me, then all the glamorous mummies at pick-up would have. Who wants to live under that
kind of pressure?’ Lizzie habitually chose to ignore the fact that she was, in fact, one of those glamorous mummies and would still outshine most women, even if she chose to turn up in a bin
bag.

‘Speaking of mothers on the rampage, I forgot to tell you,’ said Holly, ‘I got Cassie-d in the supermarket earlier on. She was going on about oatmeal and nutrition and there I
was with a trolley full of Curly Wurlys and plonk. Then Tom started kicking off because I wouldn’t let him have chocolate in the house.’

‘Well, you’re damned either way really, aren’t you? If you have the blasted stuff in the house, it’s unfair on Ben. If you don’t, it’s unfair on Tom.
How’s he doing at the moment? He looked a bit blue at Nursery on Friday.’

‘Oh Lizzie, I don’t know where to start with that one.’ She started shredding the paper napkin in her hands. ‘I ordered some extra tests for him when we moved – you
know, hearing, allergies, bloods, the works . . . I am just so fed up of people telling me not to worry, when clearly there’s something to worry about.’

Lizzie was silent for a moment. ‘And did they show anything, these extra tests? Anything you can work with?’

‘Nope,’ said Holly, her tired voice cracking with impotent frustration, as she ditched the mangled napkin and tangled her fingers in Eric’s fur. ‘According to every test
we’ve done, he’s a healthy little boy with a dairy allergy and delayed social development. The health visitor thinks he’s not bad enough to count as autistic and I have to say, I
agree with her. Otherwise he’d be bad all the time, wouldn’t he? But he’s not. He’s fine for days on end. I took him for his hearing test last week and we had the most
wonderful time going into Bath, just the two of us. So, then you start thinking, is he jealous of Tom? Does he just hate Nursery that much? Is it because I’m back at work full time?’
She swallowed hard. ‘I’m telling you, Lizzie, you could drive yourself properly mental with it all.’

‘Shit,’ said Lizzie with feeling. ‘You poor soul. Obviously, I knew things weren’t great, but I honestly hadn’t thought it all through. You have to stop
second-guessing yourself though, or you’ll lose sight of the bigger picture. He’s such a gorgeous little boy. Please tell me that Milo is being supportive about this at
least?’

There was an uncomfortable silence for a moment. Holly took a slug of her drink, swallowed hard and gave a slightly bitter laugh. ‘Not so as you’d notice, no. In an ideal world, I
need Milo more involved, his mother less involved and a nice juicy lottery win so I can stay home with my boys.’

Lizzie’s eyes widened in shock. ‘You don’t mean that? After all the times we’ve talked about how important it is to work, to have our own identities . . . Holly?
Seriously? Remember how you said you didn’t want to become one of those hollow-eyed, devastated women who come into your surgery when their kids leave home, all asking for anti-depressants.
It’s got to be worth a few sacrifices now . . . Hasn’t it?’

Holly looked up. ‘You’re right, you’re right, of course. And I really shouldn’t drink gin. It always makes me teary, but yes . . . all those ideals are great until your
baby’s not very well. Then, it all means shit, doesn’t it? And you’d trade any of it, to know that your little boy could walk into a room, look someone in the eye, talk to someone
other than his twin, heck, talking at all would be progress . . .’

They sat quietly for a moment, as the air around them settled and Holly took a juddering breath. ‘I just need to find my normal again, Lizzie. And do you know what Jean said to me this
evening? She said that if I stopped thinking about the boys and my job all the time, and put on a nice frock occasionally, my husband might not be so miserable! Can you believe it?’

Lizzie nodded and scrunched up her perfect little nose. ‘Don’t hate me, but I can actually. In fact, I seem to remember my mum saying roughly the same thing after Jack was born. And
although I can’t bear to admit it, Holls, in my case she kind of had a point. I was so totally focused on the kids and my job that Will had almost become a lodger. I was just so tired and
resentful and I didn’t give him any care or attention at all.’

Holly picked at the remains of the deliciously salty chips they had devoured between them. ‘So what we’re really saying here, is that I need to make a bit more effort?’

‘Oh no, no, no . . . Don’t you misunderstand me here, Graham, that is not what I said and I’m
not
talking about all day every day. A few tweaks, maybe . . .

‘But since you seem so bloody determined to stick to those principles of yours, against all better judgement, might I add, and stay the course with Milo, it’s got to be worth a go.
You never know, you might even enjoy it. Just get your hair cut, put on a nice dress and go out for supper with your husband. I’ll even babysit if you like,’ she grinned, ‘and
it’ll give me an excuse to get away from mine.’

Holly grinned. ‘Well, I suppose I could use a trim.’ She mentally flicked through her wardrobe. ‘But I either need a new dress or a smaller body. You wouldn’t think that
last half stone would make such a difference when it comes to, you know, zipping things up. But honestly, I can’t face going to Weight Watchers again. Not after last time, when half the women
there were only going because someone from The Practice had told them to lose weight.’

‘Haircut then,’ said Lizzie, ‘and maybe a few more chips while we work out the details of this diet.’

Holly laughed until the gin and tonic came out of her nose, which set Lizzie off again and soon had everyone in the bar staring at them. But not everyone was staring because they were making
fools of themselves. Teddy was delighted to have a bit of life in the place on a Sunday night and two pretty ladies having a fine old time certainly did that. The Major was staring because, when
Lizzie sat back in her chair, her jeans slid up to reveal a pair of perfect ankles and Taffy was staring because he couldn’t tear his gaze away from the sight of Holly, relaxed, laughing and
having fun. It was a sight he’d quite like to get used to.

The next morning, Holly rubbed at her aching temples and silently cursed Lizzie, Bombay Sapphire and her own lack of willpower. Karma was a bitch, she decided. True, she should
have known better than to stay up late on a school night, let alone to bank on Milo being able to get the twins into bed at the appointed hour. And that third drink had obviously been a mistake, as
she clearly couldn’t handle her liquor any more. The same could not be said for Lizzie, who’d moved on to a bottle of red, around the time that Holly had switched to mugs of tea,
Cadbury’s Mini Eggs and paracetamol.