Chapter 19
‘Harry!’ said Holly the next morning, relief in her voice, as she arrived at The Practice to find Harry Grant fidgeting uncomfortably by the private staff entrance. After days of trying to track him down, she had to confess she’d been a little worried that his dismissal from the PCT meant that they were no longer even on his radar – perhaps a lucrative contract in the private sector had tempted him away. ‘I was beginning to think you’d dropped off the face of the earth.’
She kissed him on both cheeks, surprised by how much his arrival had pleased her. He looked pale, she decided, not to mention a little gaunt behind his ever-present glasses and beard.
He laughed, a bitter edge to his voice. ‘Well, to be honest, it does rather feel that way. Eighteen years working for the department obviously count for nothing if you disagree too loudly with Derek Landers. Phone, laptop, car – all gone in a morning.’ He paused. ‘I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch properly.’
The restraint in his demeanour was almost visible; obviously the parting of ways had been even more acrimonious than she’d realised. ‘I suppose me thanking you for having our backs doesn’t mean all that much in the grand scheme of things,’ Holly offered sadly.
‘Oh, I wouldn’t say that, Holly.’ He looked around, a furtive hint to his movements. ‘Look, to be honest, I’ve spent the last few days holed up with my lawyer finding out where I stand.’
‘Wow,’ said Holly. ‘Then maybe this is a conversation we shouldn’t really have in the car park.’
‘Or without coffee,’ suggested Harry with feeling, knowing Holly’s usual reliance on caffeine, but unaware she was reluctantly making do with lemongrass tea these days.
Holly turned her key in the door and they slipped inside, the cool of the old building an instant relief from the heat already building outside. Enjoying the sunshine wasn’t really an option when their working hours seemed to be growing exponentially. Once Derek Landers’ cuts were in place, Holly realised, she and Taffy might never get the same day off again. The simple notion of a picnic on the banks of the River Lark as a family was beginning to feel like a pipe dream.
They walked through to Holly’s office, where she pulled a cold bottle of elderflower cordial out of the vaccination fridge. ‘I reckon we’ve got twenty minutes until the hordes arrive, Harry,’ she said as she poured out two glasses. ‘What’s on your mind?’
Harry sat down beside her desk and twisted his fingers together. ‘Well, you know I got fired because I disagreed with the proposed cutbacks. I disagreed so strongly with the cutbacks because, in my humble opinion, they seemed short-sighted and biased against the rural population. Hardly ideal in the South West.’
‘Quite,’ said Holly. ‘But what I can’t work out is the speed. One moment there’s talk of audits, the next my patients are being turned away from Rosemore.’
‘Exactly,’ said Harry, nodding his head fervently. ‘No real oversight, very little consultation, just focusing on the bottom line.’ He drained his glass. ‘ “Streamlining” the maternity provision is only the beginning, I’m afraid. The Air Ambulance regions are being reallocated by population numbers, rather than square mileage – so we’ll be screwed there as well. There’s even talk of trimming oncology care in the community. It’s so incredibly short-sighted, I could scream. Eighteen years walking the tightrope, trying to balance the books and keep optimal patient care – and now this! And you can bet your bottom dollar that Derek Landers won’t be giving up his company Lexus or his expense account any time soon.’ He paused, uncomfortable for a moment. ‘Not that you heard any of this from me, legally speaking.’
‘I’m so proud of you for speaking out, Harry. This stuff matters. I mean seriously, life-changingly, matters. But I have yet to explain it to anyone in a suit in such a way that they actually seem to understand,’ Holly reassured him.
Harry looked up from under his furrowed brow. ‘All the press coverage and naysaying in the world isn’t going to change their position on this one. They’ve been given targets and they’re meeting them. On paper. The next crisis, of course, will be patient care and they’ll move the goal posts again – if it’s an election year – but by then the infrastructure will be gone.’
‘You can’t put the genie back in the bottle,’ said Holly, knowing that there was so much truth in his words. ‘So no point in rallying the troops for another PR campaign?’
Harry shook his head sadly. ‘Not that I can see. Not this time, Holly. Best I can suggest at this point is that you guys do a quick stocktake on how it’s going to affect your patch directly. Then maybe some local fundraising to keep things in motion for your patients at least. Focus on your own patch. Be a little selfish.’ He paused, looking over at the door and, seemingly reassured that he wouldn’t be overheard, he continued, ‘Just keep the wheels turning for a bit and who knows what might change.’
‘Harry, what have you got in mind?’ Holly asked, intrigued.
He shook his head. ‘Plausible deniability for you, young lady. Let me at least explore some options before you all jump in with both feet.’ He stood up and paused. ‘We can’t keep doing this dance every bloody year, can we? You have patients to treat and I have, well, had a department to run. We shouldn’t be funding our health care with bake sales and sponsored runs.’ He leaned in and unexpectedly kissed Holly on the cheek. ‘You’re doing a great job. Just keep the wheels turning locally and I’ll be in touch.’
Even a back-to-back day of patients, in which she had yet to see even Taffy loitering in the doctors’ lounge, was not enough to distract Holly from thinking about Harry Grant. She couldn’t decide whether she wanted him to go full whistleblower on what he so obviously knew but wasn’t currently sharing, or whether she wanted him to put himself and his lovely family first. In his position, Holly knew, she’d be tearing herself to pieces trying to work out the best course of action. Sadly ‘for the greater good’ so often left the instigator paying the price.
She slipped away to collect the twins from Lizzie’s after yet another impromptu playdate had been necessitated by the sheer volume of patients suffering with the heat. Based on how tired and nauseous she was feeling, she was half-tempted to add herself to the list.
‘You are officially an angel and a godsend,’ Holly announced as Lizzie pulled open the front door. She handed over the Kettle Chips, Pimm’s and Magnums that counted as payment in kind and kissed Lizzie on both cheeks.
‘Hmm. Well, you might not say that when you see what we’ve been up to,’ Lizzie said, leading the way through to the kitchen where shrieks of excitable laughter echoed around the back garden and through the open French windows. ‘Ta-da!’ she said. ‘It’s modern art, isn’t it? Well, that and they got bored of just splashing about.’
Holly laughed, more out of shock than anything else. Her two boys and Lizzie’s three children were running around the garden in their pants, coloured from head to toe in streaks of brightly coloured paint. It was like a children’s adaptation of the Holi festival of colour that Holly and Lizzie had so enjoyed on their student travels through India all those years ago. The paddling pool water was translucent with rainbows swirling on its surface, some of which had been captured on giant sheets of paper that were now hanging to dry on the washing line. Each child bore a beaming smile, a stained body and the noise levels were certainly enough to get the neighbours tutting.
‘I’m not saying it’s ideal, but it’s kept them good for ages,’ Lizzie said, as she turned to pull out another tray of ice for yet more drinks to keep the little darlings hydrated. She eyed Holly speculatively and dropped her voice. ‘So, come on, am I allowed to let the cat out of the bag yet? It’s killing me keeping your secret from Will!’
Holly’s face broke into an enormous smile. ‘You mean, you haven’t even told Will? Oh, Lizzie!’ She shook her head in stunned amazement.
‘Well it’s not my news to share, is it?’ Lizzie said, throwing up her hands in amused frustration. ‘And you thought I couldn’t keep my mouth shut . . .’
It was true; Holly and Taffy had been quietly waiting for Lizzie to let slip about the pregnancy and for the Larkford tom-toms to start beating.
Holly shrugged. ‘Well, we need to wait for the scan and all that, really, before we say anything officially. Make sure the little bean’s cooking nicely. But we can tell Will, can’t we? I mean,’ she pulled an apologetic face, ‘I kind of assumed you had already.’
Lizzie shook her head and laughed. ‘You mean I’ve been weird and evasive with him all week for nothing? Right then, Holls, phone Taffy,’ Lizzie urged. ‘Come on. The kids don’t need to know why we’re celebrating, do they? We’ll have a barbecue, tell poor Will and raise a little glass to bid adieu to your waistline!’ She grinned, pressing the phone into Holly’s hand and brooking no argument.
Holly hugged her best friend tightly, knowing without Lizzie even saying that this pregnancy was going to impact their friendship in all sorts of ways. Lizzie, after all, had made no secret in the past of how glad she was to be out of the world of nappies and sleepless nights, already looking forward to school plays and music festivals. Her support meant the world and her enthusiasm was a bonus that even Holly hadn’t been banking on.
‘Come on, seriously,’ mumbled Lizzie into her hair, ‘you guys have been all work and no play recently. Let me at least cook you supper – let’s have some fun.’ She took hold of Holly’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. ‘Dan gave me a little hint about what you guys have been juggling at work lately. Stay and take a breath. You can organise your plans to overthrow The Man tomorrow.’
Holly shook her head. ‘I am not plotting to overthrow anyone.’
Lizzie glanced sideways at her sceptically. ‘Well I’ve known you a very long time, Holly Graham, and that there is your shit-stirring face.’
Holly laughed. ‘Okay, well maybe a teensy tiny bit, but did anyone ever stop to think that a little revolution around here wouldn’t be the end of the world?’
‘Oh, I’m all up for a scrap, as it happens,’ Lizzie said, as she ripped open an enormous bag of salad and emptied it into a bowl. Cooking had never been Lizzie’s strong point, but thankfully she’d recently decided to accept defeat gracefully and now confined her culinary activities to ‘opening things’ instead. ‘I’m just saying, take it easy.’
Lizzie’s ever-tolerant husband Will wandered in looking exhausted, his immaculate linen jacket slung over one shoulder and none-the-wiser as to how his evening plans were changing. ‘Was any man ever so lucky to come home to two gorgeous women in his kitchen?’ he said, kissing them both. He glanced out at the mayhem in the garden and barely missed a beat, before stripping off down to his boxers and charging into the fray, belly-flopping into the paddling pool and causing ripples and waves to splash over the edge. He sat up and pushed his hair back off his face, covered head to toe in streaks of primary colours. ‘Come on in!’ he shouted. ‘The water’s lovely!’
And the children followed his lead, until all five of them, along with Will and, of course, Eric, were packed into the paddling pool in a Technicolor swirl of giggles and chaos.
Lizzie put her arm around Holly’s shoulders and squeezed. ‘You’re right, you know. You do need a third one to round out your new little family. A mini-Taffy should do the job nicely. Just promise me that we’ll keep having times like this. You’re my spontaneity fix, Holls. And I’m worried that spontaneity and babies just don’t mix.’
Holly nodded with a smile. ‘Firstly, I promise. And secondly, what you’re calling spontaneity is what Taffy and I call “winging it” and I’m not sure that’s ever going to change.’ She looked out at the mayhem in the garden, her eyes shining with delight. ‘No matter how many children there are in our house.’