Out of Practice (47 page)

Well, it turned out that Henry Bruce knew exactly how to motivate her. And it wasn’t the money.

She was going to bring him down, whatever the cost. Even if The Practice had to close, she was damned if Henry was going to get away with this.

She smiled slowly, clasping hold of Henry’s arm. ‘Seems you’ve got that covered. How handy to have all your contacts.’ She took a deep breath and took a chance. ‘So
tell me then, since we’ll be working together soon, what exactly am I pitching to Taffy Jones?’

And so he told her. Everything.

Holly lugged yet another load of washing out to the line in the garden. The twins were happily throwing sand at each other in the sand pit and laughing their heads off. The sun
was shining, the birds were singing and Holly felt like they were one singing chipmunk away from a Disney movie.

It hadn’t escaped her notice though, that she was the one hanging out sheets and scrubbing the floor. ‘Wash the dishes, do the mopping, Cinderelly, Cinderelly . . .’

She watched the boys as they hooned around the garden, loving that they had so much space to burn off their never-ending Duracell supply of energy. They were babbling away to each other in their
own little twin language again, but rather than intervene, Holly decided to leave them to it. She was actually chuffed to bits that her boys would never get lonely – they would always have a
best friend to turn to, someone who knew them inside out, for better or worse.

After all, that’s what friends were these days, as everyone moved away from their roots so much – friends were the new family. And old friends even more so.

Your best friend was who you turned to for life’s ups and downs but without any biological compunction to meet up at Christmas and birthdays.

Maybe that’s why falling out with a best friend felt just like breaking up with a boyfriend – possibly worse. You still got the heart racing, sweating palms when your paths crossed
– you still carried the fear of saying something completely stupid or not looking your best. Surely looking as though you were absolutely fine, thank you very much, was
de rigueur
in
either situation.

But when you broke up with your boyfriend (or your husband) – who did you turn to? Your best friend . . .

When suddenly, and for no explicable reason, that friendship died – what then?

You had to make do with bizarre role-playing conversations with yourself in the shower, saying all the things and asking all the questions you were never really brave enough to say in real life.
Like, ‘Why?’

Holly stabbed at the sheets with the pegs rather viciously. Lizzie may have been her oldest friend, but she hadn’t been a very good friend recently, had she?

But what Holly would have given on this beautiful Disney morning, to pack up the Beast and go round to Lizzie’s: to pour out her heart and soul at the kitchen table; to cook up a decent
and believable excuse as to why she couldn’t go away with Milo; to tell her all about Taffy Jones; to ask her advice about the concert . . . The list of things she wanted to talk to Lizzie
about was growing longer by the day.

Thank God for Elsie and Julia and Dan. She’d have been lost without them.

Obviously Taffy should also have been on that list, but since he brought more to the party than simple friendship, it was probably best to leave that aside.

With the concert only days away, Holly was quietly gutted to be going away. She wanted to be here, revelling in the anticipation and preparation. She wanted to be practising with Taffy and
running through her cello solo on the stage in the Little Theatre . . .

And the Little Theatre was an absolute gem – the ancient tiered seating had seen better days, but the acoustics were amazing and there was plenty of space for the audience and also
backstage, just as long as you didn’t mind getting up close and personal.

Holly felt a thrill at the very thought.

Okay, so the only time she’d been to a performance there had been the local AmDram production of
Equus
. It was one thing seeing Daniel Radcliffe in the nude, quite another seeing
the local fishmonger tackle out – and not the fly-fishing variety either. It was no coincidence that Holly had given Waves a wide berth since she’d moved here.

But Holly had a secret hope that their concert wouldn’t just be good. From the little snippets she’d heard of various clandestine rehearsals, Holly was harbouring a secret hope that
their concert, her concert, would be nothing short of sensational.

She followed the twins inside, as they set off on a mission to find their Bob The Builder diggers, and checked her watch. She was cutting it fine as always. Afternoon clinic, then rush back here
in time to get Jean settled with the boys and away. Holly had restrained herself from commenting that Jean was always more than happy to babysit when Milo asked, but when Holly did, she was
apparently taking advantage.

Either way, the time for getting out of this had passed. She’d already got through the snide comments from Milo when she’d suggested postponing until after the concert, ‘Well,
if you can’t even tear yourself away for one night for the sake of our marriage, that tells me everything I need to know, doesn’t it?’

Sadly, thought Holly, as she reluctantly pulled clothes to pack off the chair in her bedroom that was currently doubling as her wardrobe and general dumping ground, Milo’s sniping was
probably closer to the truth than she dared to admit.

The boys safely ensconced at Nursery and covering each other with paint, Holly somehow got to work with time to spare. She tapped on Julia’s door and wandered in. Julia
had another of her ghastly green smoothies on her desk and it smelled like silage. ‘I don’t know how you can drink that!’ Holly said, wrinkling up her nose.

Julia shrugged. ‘You get used to it. I keep telling myself that if it tastes that bad, it must be doing me some good.’

‘Ha!’ said Holly. ‘When I first started here, you told me that it was all about having a refined palate and that you actually liked them.’ Holly looked a bit
uncomfortable and then blurted, ‘I thought you were a right pretentious twat.’

‘Did I say that?’ said Julia, pulling a Wallace and Gromit face. ‘Yeah. That actually sounds more like me. But then, in the spirit of honesty, when you first started, I
couldn’t stand you. So annoying! All that bounciness – all ponytail and adorable clumsiness. Argh! And then, do you remember the day we were introduced and you were all feisty and stood
up to me? You know, like a little terrier that thinks it’s a big dog? Well, then I thought I might have you all wrong.’

‘So I’m not annoying any more?’ asked Holly with a grin.

‘Oh no, you’re annoying as hell, I’ve just got used to it now.’

‘Hmmm. Not entirely sure that’s a compliment, but you know, the way my day’s going, I’ll take what I can get.’

‘Rehearsals not going well?’

Holly looked at Julia, searching for some gut feeling about whether this new friend of hers was to be trusted. ‘Rehearsals going very well, too well possibly.’

‘Ah,’ said Julia, who seemed to need no further explanation. ‘And isn’t tonight the Big Date Night?’

‘It is.’

‘Ah,’ said Julia again. She wrinkled her nose. ‘Maybe it’s time to do some critical analysis? Pros and Cons?’

Holly waved that idea aside. ‘I’m not twelve. I can’t base my life decisions on a pros and cons list . . .’ Holly stopped as she saw the expression on Julia’s face.
‘Not that there’s, you know, anything wrong with people who do that . . .’

‘Ah shut up, Holly, you know I love my lists. Doesn’t mean you can’t take a step back and see what feels right. My mum used to make me toss a coin to decide stuff. If I felt
disappointed, then I knew that I needed to choose the other option. If I felt relieved, then job done. It’s probably the only piece of advice she’s ever given me that made
sense.’

‘And that actually sounds much more like me,’ said Holly, wondering whether she had time for a quick ‘he loves me, he loves me not’ before afternoon clinic.
‘Anyway, how’s Operation Double Bluff going?’

Julia had spoken to all the other doctors last night, reassuring them of her support and filling them in on all the details. Holly had been quietly impressed by Julia’s commitment to the
cause. She knew, although Julia had never explicitly told her, that money was an issue and yet, here she was, turning down a small fortune to support her colleagues. In a world where actions spoke
louder than words, it was safe to say that Julia’s actions had been very well received. In fact, Holly couldn’t help but notice that a certain Dan Carter had been more than a little
bowled over.

Holly grinned, wondering whether, if Julia could bear to deviate from her three-year plan, that she might just get her happy ending there after all.

‘To be honest,’ Julia said, ‘I’m hating it. I’m already living in fear that Henry will tell someone else I’m part of his dastardly plans and then I’ll
be back to being a social leper again.’

‘Hey, you weren’t a social leper,’ Holly intervened. ‘Just you know, private and sometimes a little outspoken . . .’

‘You mean rude?’ Julia shook her head. ‘I always told myself that I was the only one being honest – saying out loud what everyone in the room was thinking. But then Elsie
gave me a talking to about filters the other day. Apparently, if I can’t say anything nice, I shouldn’t say anything at all. Unless it’s funny . . . Seems I can get special
dispensation to speak my mind if it’s funny.’

Holly nodded. ‘Sounds about right. You can think what you like, though. No one can police what’s going on in your head.’

‘That’s just as well at the moment. Double Agent Channing reporting for duty and all that . . . But, to be fair, I think I may have missed my calling, actually,’ Julia replied.
‘Perhaps I should call GCHQ if I’m out of a job? Henry’s just spilling the beans now, and the more aloof I am, the more he wants to impress me. He’s emailing me all the
financials this afternoon, so that should be eye-opening. I told him that he was all wind and piss and I needed some concrete proof that he was good for the money.’ She shook her head.
‘Honestly, what is it with men and this “treat them mean, keep them keen” business?’

‘Don’t ask me. I don’t understand men at all. I don’t understand why George isn’t furious about all this – he’s just meekly accepting the closure as a
given and letting us run around like headless chickens. And I really don’t understand why Henry is such a Machiavellian piece of shit. And, on a personal note, I don’t understand why,
after months of ignoring me, my husband is suddenly hell-bent on a romantic weekend away!’

‘Don’t you?’ asked Julia, leaning forwards. ‘You must surely see what his motivation is, even if the others elude you.’

‘What?’ said Holly eloquently.

‘He’s marking his territory, isn’t he? Now you’re in demand and part of the team and surrounded by fit doctors who fancy you . . .’

Holly flushed beetroot red. ‘No, you don’t know Milo . . . he wouldn’t be that prosaic. He likes to think he’s above all that.’

Julia shrugged. ‘Okay then, but he was in here the other day warning Dan off . . .’

‘What?’ yelped Holly. ‘Dan?’

Julia nodded. ‘I guess he is exactly that prosaic after all. Looks like your weekend might be more interesting than you think. Maybe he’s about to go all caveman to win you
back?’

Holly had a sudden vision of Milo bopping her over the head with his club and dragging her off by her hair. Truth be told, albeit in rather metaphorical terms, wasn’t that exactly what he
was doing by guilting her into going?

‘Right, enough of this chit-chat. I have a patient to assess. Reckons her friends are teasing her because she looks dyslexic. I don’t even know where to start with that
one!’

By the end of the afternoon, Holly had dished out emergency contraception, antibiotics and anti-depressants. She’d held out the box of tissues more times than she could
count and she’d been presented with three different Wikipedia print-outs – it made her wonder why she’d bothered with that pesky medical degree after all, when Mr Google could
apparently diagnose at the click of a mouse.

She’d had one lady refuse to take the Pill because all the hormones were going back into the water cycle and making the fish angry. She’d had another refuse to go for an MRI for a
suspicious lump, because she thought the radiation might give her cancer. The wonky logic in that conversation had used up all of Holly’s diplomatic reserves.

Even the news that Lance’s operation had gone brilliantly, and Hattie’s scan had revealed they were expecting a little boy, had thrown Holly into a spin. Her emotions were bubbling
so close to the surface, she was feeling decidedly out of control.

She would definitely need to regroup before an evening with Milo.

Holly was actually quietly furious with herself about this negative state of mind she’d sunk into. Six months ago, Milo running around being all attentive would have felt like a lottery
win. His ‘flirtation’ in Reading had knocked her self-esteem and trust far more than she cared to admit. It had taken an enormous amount of effort to move past that. But now there were
three texts on her phone claiming that he ‘just couldn’t wait’ for their time away and all Holly felt was mildly irritated.

Why couldn’t they go next weekend? And what on earth had he said to Dan Carter?

Holly couldn’t help thinking that she would be more bowled over by Milo rolling up his sleeves and painting some scenery for the concert, or perhaps taking the boys to the park, or even
giving her that elusive fantasy – a lie-in.

It was only in recent weeks that Holly had noticed something: she didn’t need the grand gestures.

Taffy was just as likely to make her day with a well-timed Orange Club, or Elsie might make her feel loved and supported, simply by letting her feel heard or appreciated.

It was the small everyday stuff that floated her boat. Change the sheets on the bed, read the boys a story and cook me a steak: I’m yours, thought Holly, wondering when she’d become
such a cheap date.