Out of Practice Page 8

  Lizzie pulled a face, as though she could read Holly’s mind. ‘Come on, Holls, blame me if you must, but let them stay up and watch a movie. It is Friday night.’ She bustled about the kitchen, throwing a tray of dairy-free snacks together for the children. Holly appreciated little things like that more than Lizzie would ever know.

  Lizzie waited until Will left the room in search of more wine and then wheeled round to focus on Holly properly, ‘What’s going on? You look shocking.’

  Her comment caught Holly on the hop, the warmth of the kitchen having finally allowed her to relax for a moment. ‘What? You don’t like my doctoring outfit?’ She plucked at the ageing fabric of her best and favourite work dress and struck a pose, not letting on that Lizzie’s comment had stung a little bit on delivery.

  ‘I didn’t mean the dress – although you’re right, it is awful – but I suppose it’ll do for the NHS. I actually meant you . . . Have you lost weight?’ she accused, narrowing her gaze appraisingly. ‘Have you been on a diet without me?’

  Holly shrugged. ‘Nah. Panic not.’ She knew how competitive Lizzie could get when it came to diets. ‘It’s probably just my sheepdog bra – optical illusion.’

  Lizzie looked blank. ‘I don’t get it.’

  ‘You know,’ said Holly, pushing her shoulders back for comic effect, ‘the sheepdog bra – it rounds them up and points them in the right direction!’

  Lizzie simply looked bemused, her own perfect A cups always enclosed in wisps of delicate silk and lace. Proper supportive underwear was like drought and famine to Lizzie – it happened to other people, not her, and she didn’t really like to think about it.

  Lizzie’s binocular vision for fashion and interiors often gave the impression that she was as deep as the proverbial puddle, but underneath all that, she could be an amazing ally and friend. Once you’d got past the obligatory ‘pep talk’ of course. Holly slumped a little, the effort of being peppy suddenly taking its toll. ‘I actually really need to talk to you about . . .’

  ‘Here!’ Lizzie interrupted. ‘Let’s get some eye-liner on you and you’ll soon feel brighter.’ She ferreted around in a very smart shopping bag, complete with interlocking C’s and a black grosgrain ribbon. ‘I’ve tons of freebies, so you can have these.’ She passed Holly a lipstick and mascara that probably cost more than the entire contents of Holly’s make-up bag.

  ‘I’m not sure make-up’s the answer this time, actually, Lizzie.’

  Lizzie looked shocked; Holly’s comment bordering on the sacrilegious.

  Will reappeared in the doorway and shook his head. ‘Leave her alone, Lizzie. Not everyone needs six coats of mascara just to leave the house. Although I do seem to recall a certain student Holly wearing buckets of the stuff. Looked amazing, as I recall.’

  ‘Yes, yes, Holly has sickeningly long eyelashes and all the boys in Bristol knew it.’ Lizzie’s voice had a slight edge that made Holly look up in surprise, catching her friend off-guard. Lizzie coloured slightly and then moved to make amends, ‘Well, maybe you don’t need the mascara, you lucky sod, but a bit of lippy would give you a lift. My gran used to say that she couldn’t drive without her lippy on.’

  ‘Hmm,’ said Will, ‘but the jury’s still out on whether she should be driving at all. I’m still convinced Specsavers might be more help than Chanel!’

  Holly laughed and gratefully took the proffered lipstick, just happy to have dodged the mascara bullet. After all, how was Lizzie to know the reason that she’d ditched her beloved mascara obsession.

  Holly could never bring herself to confess that Milo joked mascara made her look like Bambi, or sometimes a camel, depending on his mood. Although on his more scathing days, Alice Cooper’s love child had also been mentioned. Needless to say, her fondness for the mascara wand had rather worn off after that one! She smoothed the lipstick into place with her little finger, the action coming back to her instantly, except this time it was Chanel Hydrating Crème, not Rimmel’s £2.99 Apricot Blush.

  Lizzie smiled contentedly, her work done, seemingly oblivious that Holly’s problems might be more than skin-deep.

  ‘The thing is . . .’ Holly began, wondering where to start and deciding just to rip off the Band-Aid, ‘there’s a chance I might be out of a job . . .’

  Will and Lizzie, to their credit, rallied immediately. Pulling up chairs to the scrubbed pine kitchen table, they demolished two bags of Kettle Chips and another bottle of Pinot before Holly had even finished filling them in.

  ‘I mean, I’m trying not to take it personally that within two days of my arrival the Senior Partner who employed me is retiring.’ Holly gave a slightly strangled laugh to make it clear that she was taking it all in her stride. Or trying to, at least.

  ‘Maybe that’s the reason they wanted an extra GP in the first place?’ Will said, trying to be the rational voice of reason.

  ‘Well, maybe that is why they needed me, but the first I heard of it was when he announced it to The Practice as a whole and suddenly there’s factions and cliques and leadership squabbles. The whole afternoon has been a crap shoot.’ Holly sighed. ‘I can’t help feeling a bit misled really, but then, why should they tell me? I’m new and I’m junior. It’s just made me feel a bit unsettled. After all, I’ve moved house, moved the kids, my whole life really, for a job that seemed steady and safe. What if the new Senior Partner, whoever it turns out to be, thinks that I’m superfluous to requirements? I don’t even have a proper contract yet.’

  Holly shrugged unhappily, as she fought to swallow down the lump in her throat that had been lurking ever since she heard the announcement. ‘I mean, please don’t get me wrong. I love this town. I adore being nearer you guys and seeing more of you. But I think we all know that Milo’s not going to be a happy bunny if the whole relocation turns out to be for nothing.’

  There was an uncomfortable silence for a moment; nobody could disagree with that understatement and yet none of them knew what to say.

  Will stood up and stirred at their supper disconsolately. ‘Speaking of which, will His Lordship be much longer? I can pop this on life support, but I don’t know how long it’ll survive. Professional opinion, Holly? IV fluids? Class A drugs?’ He waggled the Worcestershire Sauce at her questioningly. They all knew full well that Lizzie’s ‘family recipes’ were probably the reason her whole family were so damn skinny, but nevertheless, they did occasionally allow themselves to hope.

  Lizzie sighed. ‘Your husband can be a real pain in the backside, Holly, did you know that?’

  ‘It hadn’t entirely escaped my notice,’ she said drily, ‘but please be nice. He really is making an effort. And guys? Don’t mention the job thing yet, will you? I need to get my head around it first, work out what I want to do. I mean, I love Milo, I do, but he’s not really known for keeping his cool in a crisis, is he?’

  Will put his arm around her shoulders and squeezed. ‘Of course we’ll be nice, won’t we, Lizzie? And who knows, maybe he’ll surprise us all and be wonderfully supportive . . . And we’re here for you, Holly, whatever you decide to do.’ He gave Lizzie a stern look as he stressed the word ‘whatever’ and carried on, ‘Of course, if we knew what you see in the man, it might make it easier to understand . . .’

  Lizzie gave a filthy laugh and hopped up on to the kitchen counter, swinging her legs like a teenager. ‘Oh I think we all know what Holly saw in Professor Dreamy, don’t we?’

  Will looked blank.

  Lizzie passed him his wine and waggled her eyebrows. ‘Don’t you remember? Miss Innocent Graham here had quite the thing for older men. There was her epic crush on that gorgeous ethics lecturer – oh the irony! And then that orthopaedic consultant with the enormous eyebrows . . . Unrequited love, if I recall? And then of course,’ she swooned dramatically, ‘one night in Casualty, just as the clock struck midnight, enter Milo Payne . . .’

  Holly blushed furiously. ‘Don’t be daft. It was nothing like that!’ Only it was exactly like that and Holly knew it. She a
lso knew that the adage to marry in haste and repent at leisure had never had such a resounding endorsement.

  She knew, in her heart of hearts, that she would have been well advised to get to know Milo a little better, rather than spending the vast majority of their courtship fooling around in bed. But it simply hadn’t felt like an option at the time. Sex with Milo had been a complete revelation for Holly. After the student fumblings of her flings at med school, suddenly here was a man who knew his way around the bedroom and it wasn’t long before Holly had been putty in his hands.

  She thought back to her second year of residency and to the night they had met, when Milo had come into Casualty, his finger bleeding from a nasty glass cut. She remembered how he’d quietly convinced her to go out for a drink with him after her shift, even though she’d been working for eighteen hours straight. The attraction had been instant. He just knew what he wanted and he made it happen. There was no bluster, no arrogance, just complete self-assurance.

  It was the first time she’d properly gone out with someone a few years older than her, rather than simply harbouring an unrequited crush; someone who knew exactly what they wanted out of life and was prepared to put in the effort to achieve it. It had been quite the aphrodisiac.

  Back then, Holly thought she had found that rare and elusive beast – a steady, thoughtful man, who also happened to be a demon in the sack. She remembered thinking, as she walked down the aisle towards him, that he really was the whole package, almost too good to be true.

  If she’d known then, what she knew now . . .

  Holly sighed, thinking that she probably wouldn’t be quite so quick to say ‘I do’.

  Eric curled up against Holly’s leg, as if sensing her spiralling mood, pressing his little furry body into her, tail tattooing a steady beat on the flagstone floor. Holly stroked his ears distractedly, grateful for his unconditional support. ‘I wish we could have a dog,’ she sighed. ‘It would be amazing for the boys and Ben really responds to him, have you noticed?’

  Will draped the tea towel over his shoulder and sat back against the counter beside Lizzie, his hand gently massaging the small of her back. ‘Why don’t you, then? You could have a little one, couldn’t you? Now your hours are more regular? It wouldn’t need that much exercise.’

  Holly shrugged uncomfortably, suddenly wishing she hadn’t brought it up.

  ‘Failing that,’ Will joked, ‘you could just share this one.’

  ‘Ooh yes,’ Lizzie cried, suddenly animated, ‘then we can have him on timeshare! Oh, come one, Holls, it’ll be great. Go on! Be honest, you know I didn’t really think this dog business through – I don’t have enough time to give him all the attention he needs. But I do have time for half a dog and so do you! And he already prefers you anyway . . . And he loves staying at yours. We can just become one of those big, modern, dysfunctional families!’

  ‘You mean we aren’t already?’ Will said wryly.

  But Lizzie was on a roll, clapping her hands excitedly and leaping down from the worktop. ‘How could you say no – just look at his little fluffy face! Plus, it would be really good for all the kids . . .’

  ‘Alright, Lizzie, give the girl a chance to breathe. Obviously Holly needs to talk to Milo about it first. She can’t just come home with a timeshare puppy, no matter what loopy scheme you two cook up.’

  Holly fidgeted a little, as that’s exactly what she’d been planning to do. Firstly, because she could probably keep a Shetland pony in the spare bedroom and Milo wouldn’t notice and secondly, because of The Other Problem – the elephant in the room – the detail that Holly was almost too embarrassed to admit to. Somehow, inadvertently and without any prior knowledge, she had married a man who didn’t like dogs!

  What kind of a person didn’t like dogs? More to the point, what kind of a person sat and listened to his fiancée going on and on about her plans for the future – the kids, the dogs, the country practice – and never said a word? Not once.

  Yet another indication that Holly should have done more due diligence before saying ‘I do’.

  Lizzie, suspecting strongly that Milo’s aversion to dogs had more to do with not wanting to lose any more of Holly’s attention, for once kept quiet. She could see her friend wavering and was silently cheering her on to make the right decision.

  She had her own suspicions about why Holly and Milo’s marriage was falling apart, although she was obviously madly biased in her friend’s favour. She knew that Holly had been drawn in by Milo’s strong, capable, caveman routine, but now it just seemed to her that Milo wanted to control Holly’s every move. To Lizzie’s discerning eye, he seemed to resent Holly’s return to work, he openly begrudged all the time she spent with the boys and he missed no opportunity to put her down. As Holly’s friend and champion, Lizzie found it hard to keep quiet.

  Holly started attacking another packet of crisps, in grave danger of pinging them everywhere. Eric was instantly alert, summoned by the rustle of packaging, and was soon wedged in next to Holly, his head on her lap, chomping on a crisp delightedly. Even at eighteen months, he was still a big baby really.

  ‘You’ll spoil him,’ Lizzie warned.

  ‘Isn’t that going to be my job, as part-time parent? To spoil him rotten and then hand him back?’ Holly grinned, offering him another crisp and cuddling in to his blonde fur, smoothing his silky ears and revelling in the look of total adoration in his deep chocolatey eyes.

  His little body wiggled insistently, the tail literally wagging the dog. In a moment of intense joy, he sprang up, desperate to find a place on Holly’s lap.

  She gently pushed his nose out of her face, as Lizzie fell about laughing at her attempts to get him down. ‘Eric,’ chided Lizzie sternly, ‘we’ve talked about this. No tongues! You’ll get the whole town talking. Again.’

  Holly laughed like a drain, the tension in her chest from their conversation evaporating. She gave in and pulled Eric’s wriggling body into her arms for a cuddle. ‘Let’s just say that the more men I meet, the more I love your dog.’

  ‘Our dog,’ protested Lizzie. ‘And not all men . . . just, you know, yours . . .’

  Chapter 8

  A firm, confident knock at the front door echoed through the house.

  ‘He arrives!’ said Will dramatically, with a wink at the girls, before heading through to the hall to let Milo in.

  Milo erupted into the room with his cashmere scarf swaddled around his neck. ‘Hello, Gorgeous!’ he said, giving Holly a lingering kiss on the lips. ‘Don’t you look glamorous!’ He pulled Holly into his side, tucking an arm around her shoulders. ‘I was only saying to Holly this morning that she should ditch her ratty old make-up and start afresh.’ He smoothed her cheek with his thumb, a look of intense adoration on his face. ‘But then if you’ve got a face like this, you really don’t need it, do you?’ He smiled over at Will, in an all-boys-together gesture of solidarity. ‘Of course, I probably wasn’t quite that tactful! I never quite get it right, do I, Holls?’

  While Milo gushed on, greeting Lizzie and praising the ‘tantalising’ aromas emanating from the stove, Holly found herself mentally crossing her fingers. Milo on good form was charming and witty and even Lizzie had been known to soften in the spotlight of his attentions.

  ‘Are the boys all settled, or do I have time to say goodnight?’ Milo asked, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

  Sheer relief coursed through Holly, as she watched everyone laughing and chatting as though from a distance. She sipped at her drink and let the conversation ebb and flow around her. Her husband was nothing if not enigmatic, but his abrupt mood changes these days still made her feel as though she were constantly on a cliff-edge. Maybe, she wondered, this was what losing the plot felt like? After all, they did say that madness was hereditary and, come to think of it, Great-Aunt Phyllis had certainly been two sandwiches short of a picnic.

  ‘Is that bouillabaisse, Lizzie?’ Milo enquired, as they all sat around the table a sho
rt while later. ‘Lord, that’s ambitious. You are clever for giving it a go. I’m not sure I’d know where to start!’

  Lizzie shrugged nonchalantly, as though she whipped up French cuisine every night of the week.

  ‘Holly’s idea of a culinary adventure is adding tomato puree to the Bolognese, isn’t it, darling?’ he joked, totally missing the filthy look that Lizzie shot his way.

  Will stood up with a ladle and reached out for Milo’s bowl. ‘I’ll be Mother then, shall I?’ he said, quietly and deliberately dishing up an enormous helping for Milo and distinctly more petite portions for everyone else.

  ‘Sweet Jesus,’ mumbled Holly, as she and Will bravely sipped at their spoons, ‘it’s a good job you’re pretty, Lizzie.’

  Lizzie grinned and poured herself another glass of wine. ‘It’ll be fine. You do fuss so, you two. It’s got all the right ingredients in it . . .’

  ‘But not necessarily in the right order,’ replied Will, as he gamely tried to chew and swallow some mystery seafood.

  Tilting his head to one side, Will finally swallowed and caught Holly’s eye. The two of them collapsed with laughter as they tried and failed to find something positive to say.

  ‘You are rotten, you two, ganging up on me. I’ll never get any better if I don’t practise! I mean, how bad can it actually be?’ Lizzie exclaimed.

  As Holly clutched her stomach in laughter, leaning happily against Will’s shoulder for support, Milo stretched across the table and deftly moved Holly’s wine glass out of her reach with a look of disdain. Holly didn’t notice, but Lizzie did and she promptly moved it back, as though the two of them were playing a surreal game of chess.

  Lizzie stared at him, challenging him to make the next move.

  For a moment, the derision was written clear on his face, before he shrugged and sat back, a winning smile taking its place.