Best Practice by Penny Parkes (50)

Chapter 50

The whole town of Larkford seemed to have been swept up in auction fever, and by the time the big day rolled around, the excitement was almost palpable. Dan wasn’t honestly sure whether to be touched or rattled by this morning’s last-minute addition to the auction catalogue. Sure, it was nice to know that Julia was thinking about them, supporting them, even from her new life in Geneva, but watching Grace’s face as she’d slipped open the flap and read the handwritten note?

It was only too clear that Grace had been wondering: the difference to what?

The vintage cuckoo clock had certainly elicited oohs and aahs from all the auction house staff, until even Dan had begun to wonder why Julia had posted such a valuable piece to him at The Practice, rather than by specialist courier to the auction house.

If only Taffy were here to talk it through, or Holly even. But he knew perfectly well that they were both focused on keeping Holly hale and hearty as her blood pressure continued to misbehave and the tension mounted. He felt out of his depth and longed for a little male solidarity.

‘Let’s stop for a drink and a break before the masses arrive?’ Dan suggested, gently removing a staple gun from Grace’s hand as she attempted to straighten the wonky display boards, only succeeding in making them worse. Grace, who was suddenly looking harried and exhausted by all the little details that seemed to have slipped off everyone else’s radar.

‘I’m sure there was something else I was supposed to do, though,’ she fretted, fishing in her pocket for the omnipresent list that had almost single-handedly brought this evening about. She paused for a moment, taking in her comfy yoga pants and dusty t-shirt. ‘I was supposed to go home and get changed!’ A flicker of doubt shadowed her face for a moment. ‘I know we thought that this auction would make all the difference, but all day I’ve been wondering whether it will actually be enough. Even if everything goes for its estimated value, it will only cover one Air Ambulance for a year, and maybe if we’re lucky an extra midwife to cover house calls and emergencies.’ She looked exhausted and near to admitting defeat. ‘It just isn’t enough, is it?’

Dan pulled her into his arms. ‘But it is something, Gracie. We’re doing something, rather than just bewailing our losses. And tonight isn’t only about the money; it’s about kick-starting the debate, remember? And I for one would rather lead from the front. If we’re going to set an example, then let ours be a proactive one, yes?’

He felt her head nod against his chest but she didn’t say a word. He glanced at the clock on the wall. Ninety minutes until kick-off. They could afford to take a moment together, just to be, before the flurry of frocks and hairdos took over, couldn’t they?

They both looked up, pulling apart at a tentative knock on the door, followed by a familiar but careworn face. ‘Hi, I hope I’m not interrupting but Lizzie and Will invited me to come by?’ The man’s voice trembled with an uncertainty that belied his reputation – of course reputation being nothing, when you’d been through the week from hell that Connor Danes had. ‘You must be Grace?’ Connor said, stepping forward and tentatively holding out his hand in greeting.

‘Mm-hmm,’ Grace managed, blushing wildly as Connor leaned forward and kissed her lightly on each cheek as though they were old friends.

‘And you must be Dan?’

‘Good to meet you, Connor,’ said Dan, shaking his hand and trying his hardest not to look as blown away as he felt. He knew Lizzie and Will were friends with the guy, but still? Turning up out of the blue when the paparazzi were clearly on his tail? ‘I hope you managed to dodge the local press out front,’ Dan offered. ‘We’ve been cajoling them to cover the auction all week, but—’

Connor held up his hand. ‘Sorry, I should have said. I have no intention of skulking around in the background tonight. Lizzie called me the other day and, well, I’ve come to offer my services if you’ll have me – I just couldn’t stomach another night at home listening to my friends and family leaving awkward messages on the answerphone, or turning up with casseroles – not for even another minute. So when Lizzie phoned – well, look, I hope you don’t mind and you won’t think I’m hijacking your event, but sod it; there has to be some use to being followed everywhere by photographers, right?’ He waved a hand towards the windows and Grace and Dan became aware of the flurry of activity outside, as photographers and journalists bustled for space. A large van bearing the legend ‘BBC News’ pulled up outside and the large satellite on its roof began rotating as though searching for the mother ship.

‘Oh my God,’ said Grace weakly.

‘I know it’s a shock when you see the circus in town for the first time,’ said Connor apologetically, the strain written all over his face. ‘It’s just – well – what you guys are doing here is brilliant. Maybe if we’d all spoken out sooner . . .’ He swallowed hard and his knuckles turned a stricken white as he gripped the chair-back in front of him. ‘Let’s just make our voices heard, yeah?’

‘Are you sure this is what you want to do?’ Grace queried gently, knowing only too well how fresh his tragedy must be and how fragile she herself had been in the days after losing Roy.

‘It doesn’t feel like a choice.’ Connor swallowed hard. ‘Please. If you’d just let me help – try and find some meaning in all this? Let me do this?’ His plea was heartfelt and vulnerable and Grace felt her eyes fill with tears at his honesty.

‘Connor?’ said Dan, as the thought occurred to him. ‘How would you feel about being our auctioneer for the night?’

‘You mean taking the bids and all that?’ Connor said, looking to Grace for clarification.

Grace nodded. ‘You can’t get more front and centre than that. But, in all seriousness, please don’t think you have to. That you’re here at all is quite something. And really, you mustn’t feel that you—’

Connor sighed, interrupting her appeasing words. ‘If I’m the auctioneer I can’t bid though, can I? And I rather wanted to.’ He paused. ‘But I suppose this way I could drive the price up a little.’

Dan looked at Grace in concern. This was a small-town auction for charity, not Sotheby’s. Their local contingent most likely didn’t have pockets as deep as Connor might be used to.

Connor may have been a world-class rock star, but he was Cotswolds born and raised, and the look between them clearly wasn’t lost on him. ‘Don’t worry though, guys, I’m not completely insensitive. I’ve brought some high-rollers with me too, so I’m not going to mug your patients of their pensions!’

‘Okay then,’ said Grace, hesitating for just a fraction to give him the chance to change his mind. ‘We have ourselves an auctioneer.’

Lizzie barged in without even stopping to knock. ‘Come here, you ugly bastard, and give me a hug!’ she proclaimed, shocking everyone but Connor.

‘Oh, Witchy, you’re here and looking almost as shitty as me!’ He scooped her into a bear hug as though his life depended on it, pressing his face into her shoulder and refusing to let go. Will followed his wife into the room and barely missed a beat before throwing his arms around the pair of them.

It was an odd little huddle that nobody wanted to disturb.

When they eventually broke apart, it was clear that Connor hadn’t been the only one in the hug to have shed a tear or two.

‘Rachel’s gone,’ Connor said, almost uncomprehendingly to Will. ‘She’s really gone.’

‘I know, mate. I can’t quite believe it either. She was just so—’

‘Vibrant and full of life,’ offered Lizzie, squeezing Connor’s arm tightly in support.

‘Noisy and bolshie, really,’ said Connor with a half-hearted attempt at humour. ‘But my God is it quiet at home without her.’

‘So don’t go home,’ said Lizzie, wrapping her arms around his waist. ‘Stay with us. I mean, there’s no space and I’m a truly terrible wife these days. Quite useless really; the place is in chaos and there’s never any food but—’

‘Yes please,’ said Connor with feeling. ‘Chaos and starvation sounds so much better than casseroles and silence.’

Will clapped a hand on his shoulder. ‘Are you sure you know what you’re doing, mate? Standing up in front of everyone whilst you’re still so, well, fragile? It’s early days.’

‘I’m not sure that’s a good enough reason not to try and find at least something good to come out of this. It’s hideous and miserable and it’s not going anywhere. But maybe we can all make sure this doesn’t happen to somebody else’s family, yeah? So, it’s too soon. But I can’t ever imagine this feeling any better, so why not today? It’s not very rock and roll to go all charity but I just don’t give a shit.’

‘Didn’t hurt Bono,’ said Grace quietly from the background as all eyes turned to focus on her, still streaked with dust from organising all the various lots to arrive at the last minute.

Connor laughed, the sound so unexpected as to make them all jump. ‘The lovely Grace has a valid point.’

‘Oh Grace,’ said Lizzie, her eyes widening as she realised the implications of Connor’s media shadow. ‘You weren’t planning on going home to change, were you? Have you seen what’s going on out there?’

Dan looked at Grace and, behind her bravado that it really, truly, couldn’t matter less what she was wearing, he was perhaps the only person to see the moment of disappointment, embarrassment even. ‘Isn’t Alice popping in to feed the dogs?’ he whispered. ‘Maybe she could pick something up and bring it here?’

‘I’ve got some dry shampoo and eyeliner in my bag if that helps?’ Lizzie said. ‘I keep leaving the house looking a fright and not noticing until I get where I’m going,’ she explained, as she rummaged in her handbag.

‘What do you think then, Grace?’ asked Connor. ‘Do you fancy being my right-hand woman for the night?’

Dan stifled a stab of annoyance. For God’s sake, the man was newly bereaved, he was hardly hitting on Grace, but the tiny frisson of jealousy still bothered him. What were they like, he thought impatiently. Barely having agreed to throw caution to the winds and move in together, but yet both of them still bothered by petty insecurities. First Julia’s bloody cuckoo clock and now a grieving rock star in their midst. Did everybody’s relationships have to go through these trials and tribulations, he wondered.

The door from the staging area creaked open and Holly managed to manoeuvre herself into the room, barely missing swiping an ornate tea set with her bump. ‘Bloody hell,’ she grumbled. ‘Which wanker invited half the press in the northern hemisphere?’

‘Er, that would be me, I’m afraid,’ said Connor apologetically, even as Lizzie inhaled sharply.

‘Oh, well, that makes sense,’ said Holly reasonably, taking his outstretched hand to shake. ‘But you can be the one to explain to Elsie Townsend that they weren’t all waiting for her to arrive. She’s making them do a photo call with her as we speak.’

Connor cracked a smile. ‘I suppose I should do the chivalrous thing and go and join her,’ he said.

Holly waved away the suggestion. ‘Give her a minute to milk the spotlight or you’ll have all hell to pay.’ She leaned forward and gently laid a hand on his shoulder. ‘I was so sorry to hear of your loss.’

Connor glanced down at her unwieldy bump and nodded, his voice croaky when he spoke. ‘It’s never what you plan for, is it? The Worst Case Scenario?’

She shook her head. ‘Plan for the worst, hope for the best; it doesn’t get you even close, does it?’ She paused. ‘You being here is above and beyond, you do know that, don’t you?’

Dan turned away, unable to witness the depth of emotion on both of their faces. It was a silent club of two for that moment – probably the only two people in the room for whom the fear and uncertainty of childbirth were still fresh enough to be so vivid.

‘Gracie,’ he whispered. ‘Come with me a minute.’ He took her hand and squeezed through the backstage area, between a globe and a set of vintage Ludwig drums, to where they could find a moment’s peace. ‘Are you okay with all this? I know it started out as your project, but we’ve rather lost control, haven’t we?’

Grace nodded, seemingly unfazed. ‘I know it was my baby to begin with, but trust me, by the time they become noisy, opinionated teenagers, you’re quite ready to hand over the reins.’ She spoke with feeling and Dan couldn’t help but think that she wasn’t only talking about the auction project.

‘Are the boys coming tonight?’ he asked, half hoping that they’d see fit to come and support their mother, as she had supported all of their endeavours over the years.

Grace shrugged. ‘It’s probably for the best if they don’t. There’s altogether too much scope for a cock-up, don’t you think? Emotions are running pretty high all round – all the pregnant ladies are protesting on the village green, according to Alice.’

‘Protesting the auction?’ Dan asked in confusion.

‘No, you daft apeth. With the hashtag on placards. Rural Lives Count is trending all over the internet, but they wanted some old school photo ops for the news teams.’ She dropped her voice to a whisper. ‘I just wish all this was happening without such a tragedy driving it forward.’

They looked at each other for a moment, with no need for words. Of course that was both of their wishes, but the media didn’t seem to function that way. There was no doubt in both of their minds that their parochial bit of fundraising, their plans to get the second Air Ambulance out of the hangar and into the air, or a community midwife on call, would barely have merited a few column inches in the local paper. What was happening now was nothing short of sensationalising a celebrity bereavement. The only question was: how did they actually feel about that?

In that moment, it certainly seemed to Dan as though their opinion on all this wasn’t terribly important and that the genie was well and truly out of the bottle regardless. He took Grace’s hand. ‘Come on, Cinderella, let’s get you sorted for your moment in the spotlight. Stand up there and catch Connor if he falls, though, Gracie, won’t you?’

‘Of course,’ she said simply, and squeezed his hand.