Out of Practice (53 page)

‘And that the opinions that matter are not those of the number-crunching bureaucrats in London, but those of the people that live here. You, in fact. The people who rely on the team at The
Practice to keep you healthy and to be there for you when you need us. And for that, I thank you.’

Dan dipped forward into a small bow, as the cheering and stomping of the audience crashed over him like a wave. He came up smiling.

Elsie, looking completely in her element, carried on. ‘And rather than trotting out all our finest and best, we thought we’d throw in a few little challenges – let you enjoy
seeing your medical team in a whole new light. So, to that end, we’ve been learning a few new skills just for you.’

There was a slight kerfuffle at the back of the hall, as the Major’s terrier appeared to have broken loose and to now be challenging Eric to a duel. Eric, in response, broke into his best
Clapton impression, ‘Wooo-hooo.’

Everybody burst out laughing and Lizzie looked mortified.

‘Ladies, gentlemen, boys, girls and assorted livestock,’ said Dan, completely dead-pan. ‘I give you The Pharmacy Girls!’

Half an hour into the concert and all was ticking along nicely to plan. Grace’s choir had been sensational and Holly had adored seeing Julia let her hair down, donning a
pair of tights as Puck from
A Midsummer Night’s Dream
. The audience were in buoyant, excitable mood and met their attempts at fresh challenges with warmth and humour.

Jade’s roller-skating scene from
Starlight Express
may have come to an abrupt halt, but Holly reckoned she’d probably get a few phone numbers off the back of it. Her little
outfit had been decidedly skimpy for dancing, even more so for falling!

Holly waited backstage, her palms clammy and her stomach rolling. Part of her was excited that the twins would get to see their mother perform on her cello, not tucked away in the spare bedroom,
but actually perform, on a stage in a spotlight, where the acoustics of the theatre would add a sensual warmth to her music. She wanted them, in a very simple way, to know that she had other
talents besides an unerring knack with the Playdoh.

The other part, of course, was quietly screaming in her head, ‘What on earth were you thinking? All your patients are out there. All your colleagues are back here. Don’t screw this
up . . .’ She smoothed her palms down the long charcoal length of her dress. She just wanted to look her audience in the eye and be proud of what she could do. She was fed up of being a pale
imitation of her true self.

The freedom came from knowing that, without Milo’s feelings to tiptoe around, she could just relax and be whoever she wanted to be. The twins would cuddle her no matter what. Their love
was unconditional – at least until they turned eight, she reckoned. Then pocket money and cake might play a bigger role.

She jumped as a warm hand settled on her waist and Taffy materialised beside her in the darkness of the wings. ‘Break a leg, Holly. I’m so looking forward to hearing you play.’
He ran his other hand over the burnished wood of her cello lovingly. ‘I’ve always loved the tones of a cello, you know? It’s friendlier than a violin somehow, don’t you
think?’

Holly watched his hand as it stroked her beloved cello and swallowed hard. It was one thing that he was supportive of her efforts at work, praised her ideas for The Practice Campaign and played
with her children like a long-lost uncle, but this complete acceptance of her cello as an integral part of who she was, made Holly feel as if she were finally at peace.

The risks, the drama and the adjustments of the move to Larkford all suddenly felt worthwhile, as she looked up into his eyes.

Everything she was feeling was reflected there and her heart tumbled slowly, as if righting itself after a long sea voyage. Accustomed to lavishing her love and attention on her boys and mad
Eric, she felt completely blind-sided by this emotional, immediate response to Taffy.

Taffy Jones who’d been there every step of the way for the last few months and who now, it seemed, had the ability to tune into her own personal wavelength.

Taffy Jones, who also came with a side-order of secret, pregnant girlfriend, she reminded herself quickly.

Their timing really did suck.

She swallowed a sob and took a step back. The hurt flashed in his eyes as he followed her lead.

‘Okay then,’ he said quietly. ‘Go and play your socks off. Then we’ll show those Carpenters a thing or two.’ He lingered, obviously waiting for something, waiting
for Holly.

She swallowed the ball of tears in her throat, barely trusting herself to speak. This evening’s emotional rollercoaster was beginning to take its toll. She nodded. ‘See you in a bit
then.’

He made to reach out to her, but pulled back when he saw the panic on her face. ‘You’ve done an amazing thing here, Holly. Let’s at least have a celebratory ginger ale before
we go on. Keep our wits about us?’

‘But you hate ginger ale,’ Holly managed inanely.

‘I do indeed,’ he smiled, as he walked away, ‘but you don’t.’

Holly’s fingers were sore and her cheeks were flushed, but her eyes filled with tears of happiness as she stood up to take her bow. Her performance had gone better than
she had dared hope. All the emotion of that moment with Taffy had been poured into her bow work and goose-bumps had prickled her neck throughout. She’d even managed to look up during a gentle
adagio to see the twins watching her open-mouthed with delight.

Half the audience knew that this was her hare-brained scheme to begin with and they rewarded her with a standing ovation. The twins broke away from Marion and ran up on to the stage, wrapping
themselves around her legs. She crouched down, as Dan stepped from the wings to take her cello and she scooped their little writhing bodies into her arms.

Tom pressed a sticky kiss onto her cheek and Ben pulled back to look her squarely in the eye. ‘Clever Mummy,’ he said clearly and slowly. Holly thought she might die with pride.

‘Ladies and Gents, I think we’ll have a short interval. Teddy Kingsley has some refreshments for you all, donations only. And we’ll be back shortly with a few
surprises.’

Holly slipped down from the stage to thank Marion for all her help. Marion just smiled. ‘It’s actually the very least I can do, Holly. After everything you’ve
done for me.’

Holly obviously looked as confused as she felt, so Marion simply held out her left hand, which now bore an emerald that was almost as big as the smile on her face.

The Major leaned into the conversation, gruffly adding his own thanks. ‘I do hope we can persuade you to play your remarkable cello at our wedding.’

Holly kissed them both soundly, unable to find any words.

‘I shall sing too,’ announced Tom proudly, polishing his medals.

‘Indeed you shall, young man,’ said the Major with such gentleness that Holly saw him in a whole new light. The spring in his step, the softness of his gaze. ‘After all,
it’s thanks to your mummy that I’m getting married at all!’

‘But . . . married . . . so quickly . . .’ managed Holly.

The Major just shrugged. ‘When you know, you know. One little fight over a sausage roll and here we are. I just needed someone to open my eyes.’

Marion and the Major looked so blissfully, besottedly happy as they took the twins off for squash and crisps that Holly felt quite adrift.

So much for life being easier for the young – it was the oldies in this town who had the right idea.

Holly turned around at the tap on her shoulder and was immediately swallowed into a tearful hug that enveloped her with Chanel No 5. ‘Bloody hell, that was
brilliant!’ exclaimed Lizzie, having finally fought her way through the crowd to Holly’s side.

Holly grinned at her exuberance and simply hugged her back.

‘Can you forgive me for being such a selfish bitch?’ asked Lizzie against her shoulder.

‘I’m just so glad you came. I’ve missed you!’ managed Holly. ‘But you didn’t have to risk arrest to bring me an apology. You can just say sorry, you
know.’

Lizzie shook her head. ‘I wanted my first proper apology to be a good one. And besides – I thought you wouldn’t tell me to sod off, if I turned up with Barry
O’Connor.’

Holly laughed and shook her head, their hug forced apart by a rather determined Labradoodle. Eric was licking Holly’s hand as she spoke, lavishing her with doggy kisses. ‘I’ve
missed you too,’ said Holly, ‘and your mad mistress.

‘There’s a fair bit to catch up on,’ said Holly. ‘We may need to have a proper natter in the pub later.’

Lizzie shook her head. ‘The deli for coffee and then you’re talking.’ She held out a sobriety chip from AA and looked uncomfortable.

Holly clasped Lizzie’s hand and the chip tightly in her own. ‘I’m very proud of you.’

Lizzie shrugged. ‘Early days. But Will made me see that I couldn’t keep pretending everything was okay and drowning my sorrows.’

‘Sorrows?’ Holly tilted her head with concern.

‘Oh Holls, I’ve been lying to everyone, myself included. I’m so bloody miserable, juggling work and the kids – Jack of all trades and master of none – I don’t
know how you manage it, but I can’t. I’m so sick of having to “live the dream” for the magazine. Half my work relationships are as deep as a puddle and the other half are
trying to steal my job. That’s why I have to be so bloody perfect all the time!

‘Oh, I’m so jealous of your scruffy jeans and dated bed-linen and pitiful make-up bag. I’m fed up of living in a lifestyle spread and I just need to step off the treadmill for
a bit.’

Lizzie took a deep gulping breath and continued, ‘And I’m so sorry, but I did drag you here under false pretences. I wanted you here for me – because I was lonely and depressed
and too bloody proud to admit it. And then you got here and you were busy, busy, busy all the time – no time for me. And all I heard from everyone was “Isn’t Holly wonderful?
Isn’t she amazing? Such a lovely doctor . . .” All your colleagues seemed to think the sun shone out of your every orifice. And, I’m so sorry, Holls, but it made everything worse
and I got very, very jealous.’

Holly blinked hard, as she tried to reconcile what Lizzie was saying with the historical evidence of what she’d seen. Everything slotted together like a perfectly aligned jigsaw. All the
anger and hurt seemed to release. Elsie had been right – you think you know what’s going on with other people, behind closed doors, but you only
really
ever knew what they
chose to show you.

Holly held Lizzie’s hand even tighter. ‘You muppet! Why didn’t you say something? I would have understood . . . And if you’d told me why you wanted me here, I would have
come anyway – job or no job.’

Lizzie looked about twelve as she released her hand from Holly’s and pushed her hair back behind her ear. ‘What if you’d said no? What if you’d put Milo first?’

‘Ah, well, we don’t need to worry about that any more.’

‘What?’ asked Lizzie sharply.

‘I decided that I’d been muddling up death and divorce for far too long. If Milo wants a relationship with the twins, he can still have one. He’s still technically there for
them, isn’t he? I just don’t have to be married to him for that to happen. I get to choose too.’

‘Christ,’ said Lizzie in wonder. She pulled Holly into an enormous rib-crushing hug. ‘This is bloody brilliant news! If I wasn’t stuck on the cranberry juice, I’d
pop open the fizz to celebrate.’

Holly laughed. ‘Actually, I’m getting my buzz from all of this. There’s a few big changes ahead, but for the first time in a long time, I actually feel as though I know where
I’m starting from. And, much as it kills me to admit it, I owe that to you and your Machiavellian, scheming ways. Moving here was the best decision I’ve made in a long time.’

Lizzie looked over her shoulder and her eyebrows shot into her hairline. Taffy was working his way towards them through the crowd. ‘Are you and Taffy . . . ?’ Lizzie waggled her
fingers.

Holly sighed. ‘Sadly no. Not for want of wishing, though.’ She laughed. ‘Timing never really was my thing. It seems that Taffy Jones is about to be a daddy, with a teeny tiny,
pre-pubescent, blonde baby momma.’

Lizzie scowled. ‘Really? Taffy? I can’t say that’s his usual type.’ She shrugged. ‘Men really do think with their dicks, don’t they?’

‘Seems like it.’ Holly batted away the idea. ‘I think it’s probably best if I’m on my own for a bit, anyway. Elsie’s blown open this whole can of worms
– apparently we need to work out what we actually want from life. Who knew?’

Lizzie gave her arm a squeeze. ‘Well, apparently neither of us, until recently.’

Taffy finally got to Holly’s side and said hi to Lizzie. ‘Are you ready, Holls? Dan wants us to be up next. Some shuffling of the running order to accommodate Elsie doing a duet with
Barry O’Connor, I think.’

‘And what are you two singing?’ asked Lizzie, intrigued.

‘Oh, I’m just playing the guitar. I’m leaving the vocals to this little songbird,’ said Taffy with a grin. ‘I’ve a feeling she’s been hiding her light
under a bushel, this one.’

Holly looked quickly at Lizzie, checking that this comment wasn’t of the solar orifice variety, but Lizzie just looked chuffed.

‘Oh, Taffy,’ said Lizzie, ‘you haven’t even scratched the surface.’

The mood lighting on the stage meant that Holly could now only really see the front row of the audience without being dazzled. In fact the only place where she could safely
look was at Taffy, his fringe falling into his eyes as he scrunched up his face in intense concentration at finding all the correct chords.

Holly didn’t need to concentrate, she just let herself go, the melodies of the song carrying through. Even as she sang about true love always finding a way, she felt a tingle down her
spine as Taffy looked up and caught her gaze.

Her heart flipped wildly as she fumbled slightly for her place, the naked adoration in his eyes throwing her completely.

What on earth had they been thinking when they chose such a romantic song? Okay so the chords were easy, but still . . .