Out of Practice (48 page)

Milo was all about the grand gestures though, all flash and no substance.

Holly reached into her wallet and pulled out a coin. Heads for Milo, Tails for Taffy, she thought, wondering if she’d lost her mind.

As the coin spun through the air, Holly held her breath. In that moment, as the flash of silver rotated in front of her, Holly got her answer. ‘Please be tails,’ she whispered.

Holly wandered out of The Practice in her own little world.

With a toss of a coin, she had somehow found a way to connect with what was going on beneath all the logic and her need to do the right thing.

She wanted Taffy.

She needed Taffy.

Just the thought that this could happen made her feel light on her feet.

She sat on the wall that lined the car park and rehearsed what she was going to say. She tried not to think about the conversation with Milo that would inevitably ensue. Just for a while, she
wanted to enjoy the momentous decision she’d made.

It was so unlike her, so selfish and pleasure-seeking. She couldn’t quite believe that she was going to do this, to ignore the very rubric of her life – sod doing the right thing,
sod looking at herself in the mirror every day with a clear conscience, knowing she’d been her best self . . . She was about to break every rule and she couldn’t remember ever feeling
so happy.

She swung her bare legs against the wall, the moss tickling the back of her thighs. She wondered for a moment what Lizzie would say. Did it matter? If everyone she knew stood up and told her
that this was an awful idea, would it make any difference?

Holly’s pulse was racing as she checked her watch yet again and wondered where Taffy had got to. She could see Grace in the front office, shutting down computers and Dan talking to a young
slim blonde girl in reception. They seemed to be having a row and Holly craned to get a closer look.

This girl was everything that annoyed Holly. She must have been in her twenties but she had the whole tiny and fragile looking, pre-pubescent thing going on, with the flicky blonde hair and wide
eyes that always seemed to reduce grown men to adolescent boys. Holly knew she was too judgemental, but she just couldn’t help judging the kind of guy that was attracted to that kind of girl.
What did it say about them?

But then, the same could be said for the fad of huge bottoms that looked like baboons. What sort of a guy thought, hmmm, she’s pretty, if only her arse was larger . . . What sort of a girl
filled her bottom with implants?

Holly shook her head. Although she’d said to Julia that she didn’t understand men, maybe she just didn’t understand people full stop.

Maybe, this time next week, people would be saying the same thing about her? Not the bottom, obviously. But her decision. Would the town of Larkford be scandalised that Holly had ripped her
little family apart just so
she
could be happy?

Holly felt the first cold icicles of doubt worm their way down her back. It was all very well flipping a coin and finding relief in your subconscious reaction, but then reality had to be
considered.

While all these thoughts were stampeding through Holly’s mind, she’d absent-mindedly been watching the drama in reception unfold. Her attention only really snapped into gear when
Taffy stepped into the room. It took all of a minute, for Taffy to take hold of this girl’s arm and escort her from the premises.

His face was angry and his voice carried down the car park toward Holly. She automatically shrank back against the branches of elderflower behind her.

‘Well then, tell me,’ said Taffy angrily. ‘What the hell are you hoping to achieve by coming here?’

The girl stood in front of him defiantly, her back to Holly and hands on her hips. ‘I think I deserve some answers.’

‘Oh you do, do you? Turning up here, at work, of all places. How thoughtless is that?’

The girl just shrugged. ‘I’ve seen the website. I know what’s going on. And I think it’s time I laid down my marker. Nobody walks away from me.’

Taffy sighed and ran his hand through his hair. ‘Look, it’s not as straightforward as you think. Everything’s up in the air.’

‘Not my problem,’ she said. The girl turned sideways and laid her hand on Taffy’s arm, her head tilted coquettishly. Her pregnant belly jutted out between them, tight and high
and almost comical against her tiny, girlish frame. ‘I just think that a father should be involved in his child’s life, don’t you? Financially, at the very least.’

Holly felt the bottom drop out of her world as she watched the two of them argue. She knew Taffy well enough to read his body language. He was clearly cross with this girl for turning up at The
Practice but also sympathetic to what she was saying. Their voices got lower as they appeared to find some common ground and then Taffy put his arm around her shoulders to guide her back
inside.

Holly couldn’t have moved if she wanted to. Other images, older images, of Milo with his arm around that student flashed into her mind. Teeny tiny blonde girls. Ruining her life.

So that was that then. A timely wake-up call that all men were basically the same. Taffy was going to be a father and she knew that he would be an amazing one – just not to her boys.

The heady smell of the elderflowers made Holly’s stomach lurch unhappily.

‘All plans are made to be changed,’ she murmured, trying to soothe the searing pain that clawed at her chest. She looked around her, feeling disoriented and lost.

So, no Lizzie, no Taffy and, in all likelihood, no job.

But she did have her boys and, if it wasn’t too late, a husband who wanted to whisk her away.

Perhaps it was always meant to be so, she wondered. Better the devil you know and all that . . .

All the justifying and reasoning kept her walking forward.

The part of her that had finally been acknowledged and heard only moments before, being soothed back to sleep with empty platitudes.

But as she turned into her road and saw Milo’s car, she couldn’t help but wonder – did she really need a devil at all?

Holly fidgeted in the passenger seat of Milo’s beloved Saab, trying to keep her feet squarely on the mat. Frankly, she’d rather be slumped in her seat with her feet
on the dashboard, but if she wanted the weekend to go well, there would need to be a few compromises. Compromise number one: behave in Milo’s car.

She tried not to think about the bigger compromises she was making and pushed Elsie’s voice from her mind.

She felt shaken and tearful, replaying the scene with Taffy and the pregnant girl over and over again in her head. She rubbed at her temples as her headache gained momentum and she wondered what
on earth she was doing.

She could acknowledge now, with the benefit of hindsight that she’d fallen deeply, irrevocably in love with Taffy Jones. A slow, affectionate burn had flared into a passionate longing and
she could still feel the whisper of that fleeting kiss imprinted on her lips. Seeing him with that girl had ripped a hole in her heart that made it difficult to breathe.

He’d built her faith that things could be different and then he’d trampled it under foot.

It was time to put aside all these foolish notions that Elsie had been layering into her mind.
Should
had its place in her lexicon – as a mother and a wife and a professional,
should
was the fuel that kept her days on track.

Picking moments? Ha, well that implied a certain amount of choice, didn’t it?

Picking battles? Well, who had the energy for that?

Holly ran her hand over the walnut dashboard and sighed. Her job may be in jeopardy, but she could still save her little family. So, maybe in a weird way, this mini-break had come at just the
right time – to remind her of everything she did have.

For better or worse, for richer or poorer, in good times and in bad.

She tried to muster some enthusiasm; after all, Milo was making the effort. It was time she logged back in and stopped being selfish.

She watched Milo under the bonnet, tinkering away with bottles of Evian and washer fluid. She could have sworn he’d allocated more time for getting the car ready for their night away than
he had for himself. It was one of the things that Holly used to find so endearing about him. She couldn’t remember when that had morphed into yet another annoyance.

Milo’s mother referred to him as a Gentleman Mechanic. As far as Holly could tell, that meant he never got dirty, never actually got under the car, but was permanently to be found,
cashmere jumper shoved above the elbows and head under the bonnet. He claimed to know what he was doing, but since the car spent more time in the garage than on the road, Holly wasn’t
convinced.

One thing she did know, was that Milo adored the attention of all the passing ladies, so thrilled and impressed to see a good-looking, if slightly intellectual bloke, who still seemed to know
his way around an engine. Holly was convinced that if one more female told her she was lucky, she would scream.

Truth be told, she wished he’d sell the bloody thing and buy something modern and reliable. A little something with a nod to style and nostalgia, sure, but with the added incentive that it
actually worked! You know, as a means of transportation.

‘Right,’ Milo said, as he slipped into the driver’s seat. ‘I think we’re good to go.’ He turned the key in the ignition and the engine grumbled resentfully
into life. He lightly revved the accelerator and squeezed Holly’s knee without once taking his eye off the dials on the dash. ‘All sorted?’

‘All sorted,’ Holly replied, well versed in Milo-Shorthand for ‘Have you sorted out the boys? Have you filled the fridge with food? Does Mum know where to reach us? Have you
packed for you? Have you packed for me? Oh, and have you brought something slinky to wear for tonight?’

Holly slid down in her seat a little and smothered a yawn. She was absolutely exhausted. Maybe Milo was right and all she needed was a night away to recharge. Even if getting ready for said
night away had drained the very last of her energy, she hoped there would be time to regroup. She was longing for an undisturbed swim in a pool without floating dragons and a night in a big comfy
bed with a duvet the size of Gloucestershire.

Perhaps, if she was very lucky, she’d wake up without a tiny toe stuffed up her nostril! It would probably be nice to have an evening with Milo away from his computer too, she mentally
added guiltily, but if she was honest, that wasn’t the main appeal.

As the Saab rumbled through the Market Place, Holly kept her eyes closed. She didn’t want to tempt fate by seeing anyone who might need her.

While Milo coaxed the Saab up and down the gear box, winding their way through the hills towards Bath, Holly watched his profile. He was concentrating on the rev counter and seemed in a world of
his own. His voice made her jump when he suddenly spoke.

‘I’m so glad we’re doing this tonight, Holly. It’s what we need – a little time together to reconnect.’ He changed gear again. ‘I just worry, you know,
that this new job of yours . . . Well, I just worry that they don’t appreciate you. You work so hard and you’re so good at your job, but I’m not convinced they recognise that.

‘You know I appreciate you, Holly, don’t you? I don’t say it enough, but I do. And if you need to walk away from The Practice, I support that decision. I believe in you. I
believe in us.’

Holly didn’t know what to say. Milo’s speech sounded rehearsed, the compliments were nice to hear, but rang utterly false. The cynical voice in Holly’s mind went one step
further – surely that speech was straight out of Passive Aggressive Behaviour For Beginners?

Six months ago, she knew that this conversation would have been music to her ears. Her self-esteem had been so wounded and fragile, she would have pathetically seized upon those compliments and
hung on his every word. Now, though, her rose-coloured glasses well and truly smashed, she could listen with a certain detachment and scepticism.

‘I just think,’ Milo continued, apparently unconcerned by her lack of response, ‘that people like Dan Carter are happy for everyone else to do their leg work, while they take
all the glory. I’m worried that he’s playing you for a fool and taking advantage of your sweet nature, Holly.’

‘Dan’s one of the good guys, Milo,’ Holly said abruptly.

Milo looked at her sharply. ‘Well, I’m just looking out for you, Holly. He’s a smooth operator that one. Lucky you’ve got me to bring some objectivity. Seems to me that
you’re too close to the situation.’ He sniffed. ‘I rather suspect you’ve lost all perspective.’

‘You’re probably right,’ she replied quietly, not bothering to point out that they were talking at crossed purposes. Perspective was yet another thing she was sorely
lacking.

An hour later, as the door of their hotel room swung closed, Holly knew she was being ungracious and ungrateful, but somehow she couldn’t quite contain it. She watched
the red flush climb up Milo’s neck, a sure enough sign of his rising temper, but somehow, she had lost the ability to edit her thoughts. She slumped into the sumptuous sofa of the hotel suite
– suite! – and held her head in her hands.

‘How. Dare. You?’ said Milo, each word creating its own little ripple of distaste. ‘I have never been so embarrassed in all my life!’

‘Haven’t you?’ replied Holly coolly, looking up. ‘Would you rather I’d waited until we were checking out, to let on that we couldn’t actually afford to pay
the bill?’

She swallowed hard, furious at her husband for putting her in this position and trying valiantly to be tactful. ‘I understand what you were trying to do, Milo, I really do. And who
wouldn’t want to be whisked away to a five-star hotel for the night? Who wouldn’t want to stay in the Honeymoon suite and have the Michelin-starred menu? But seriously, have you never
looked at one of our bank statements? The package you booked cost more than our rent!’

Milo set his chin into that stubborn expression that made Holly want to punch him. ‘So what if I want to spoil my wife? Everyone keeps telling me what a saint you are. God knows,
it’s hard enough to earn your attention these days. And yes, I saw that photo of you, all cozied up at the Spring Swim. I saw it, Holly. You and our boys with that arrogant Welsh git . . .
Wasn’t flirting with Dan enough for you? You have no idea how you’ve made me feel. Why do you think I organised this, hmm? Obviously big, romantic gestures are wasted on you.
Can’t I do anything nice to please you any more, Holly?’