Out of Practice (11 page)

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 . . .’

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 short 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.

‘Do you know, Lizzie,’ Milo said smoothly, as though nothing had happened, ‘I think that this is far and away the best bouillabaisse I have ever eaten outside of
France!’

Lizzie frowned, unaccustomed to his lightning changes of mood and unsure what to make of the compliment. ‘Milo, have you ever eaten bouillabaisse outside of France before?’ she asked
suspiciously.

He just smiled enigmatically and raised his glass, before leaning back in to the conversation with a joke. Holly and Will, already on a hair trigger for the giggles, were soon caught up in his
funny anecdote about the mad librarian in Bath. Resting his arm around Holly’s shoulders, she nestled into him instinctively. Only Lizzie sat back, watching the evening unfold, with a
nebulous sense that she was missing something.

Later, as Lizzie attempted to load the dishwasher without Eric trying to climb in and act as Pre-wash, Holly plonked more plates down beside her.

‘Nice to see Milo on form,’ said Lizzie, quietly fishing.

‘It is,’ Holly agreed, pushing aside the spiralling thoughts that tormented her. Would they need to move yet again before she’d even finished unpacking? She was only too aware
that redundancy was such a career-killer on a doctor’s CV. And with the boys only just starting to get settled . . . She sighed deeply: soul-searching would have to wait. It was yet another
luxury she didn’t have time for.

Lizzie gave her hand a squeeze. ‘Penny for them . . .’

Holly smiled. ‘Where would I be without you?’

‘Mistress to that dodgy ethics professor, with a shaggy perm and questionable taste in clothes? So not that different really . . . but without a timeshare puppy obviously.’

Holly leaned in and kissed Lizzie on the cheek in a spontaneous gesture of gratitude. For all her foibles, Lizzie was the best friend she’d ever had. ‘Then I guess I owe you
one.’

Lizzie drained her glass. ‘Oh darling, at this point we really should stop counting!’

A plaintive wail from upstairs got Holly’s instant attention. When Ben kicked off in the night, there was always a small but distinct window of opportunity to get him settled again, or
they were in for a long one.

‘I’ll come and help,’ said Lizzie, noting that Will and Milo seemed to be having a pleasant conversation for once and wanting to leave them to it.

With Ben cradled back to sleep in her arms, Holly perched on the end of Lizzie’s bed. She brushed Ben’s fringe from his eyes and savoured the moment of peace.

With him asleep and his little starfish hands relaxed against her, Ben’s fight against the world was on hold. All the tension in his little body was gone and Holly held him to her,
murmuring sweet nothings.

‘Holly? You do know you’re going to have to tell Milo about your job?’ said Lizzie, gently but firmly.

‘I know,’ said Holly. ‘I just think I need a bit more information first.’

‘Or you could tell him tonight, while he’s in a good mood? Then you two can make a plan together over the weekend. Either way,’ she persisted.

Holly didn’t reply and Ben snuggled closer into her arms. In that moment, Holly didn’t really trust herself to speak. Everything she was doing, all the choices she was making were
about making the best life for her boys that she could possibly manage. And little boys needed their dads. Everybody knew that. Everybody told her that. All the bloody time. She’d tried to
tell herself that there were better male role models out there, but Milo was their father and, faced with that incontrovertible truth, her arguments sounded hollow and unconvincing even to herself.
It wasn’t particularly helpful either, that despite everything, she did still love him and yearned for their earlier days together, when life had seemed so simple.

A volley of laughter came from downstairs, the sound so unusual that Lizzie and Holly both looked at each other in amazement.

‘Bloody hell, Milo really is pulling out all the stops tonight,’ said Lizzie. ‘How badly is he on the back foot this time? Has he found himself a new little postgrad to play
with?’ Her tone was scathing and it instantly made Holly feel all prickly and defensive.

Her silence was loud in the room and Lizzie sighed dramatically. ‘Sorry. Bit tactless. Too soon?’

‘Definitely too soon. And I would have thought you’d be pleased he was making an effort?’ Holly managed tightly.

‘I am, I am,’ said Lizzie apologetically. ‘I just worry about you, Holls. All this talk of him making an effort . . . Should it really require such an effort to be pleasant to
your lovely wife? And, be honest, Milo on buoyant form normally means he’s fucked up something. How many compliments has he been throwing your way this evening?’

‘Cynic.’

‘Realist,’ Lizzie countered firmly. ‘I could go on . . .’

‘Please don’t, though,’ said Holly with feeling ‘I know you two butt heads occasionally, but really I just need you to support me on this.’

She normally valued Lizzie’s objective input, even when it came to her marriage, but she couldn’t cope with any Milobashing tonight. He was obviously doing his best and that ought to
be enough, even if she sometimes wondered deep down whether it was all an act. He certainly seemed able to switch it on and off like a tap.

Holly was only too aware that she had a blind spot where Milo was concerned: her boys. She did try to trust her instincts, to stay on balance, even when Milo seemed to do his level best to
distort her recollection of events. But over-riding everything was the desire to keep her family together, despite the little voice that whispered that things weren’t quite right. The trouble
was, she had no idea what to do to make them better.

She felt paralysed by doubt, caught in a vicious circle that made her feel passive and weak. The responsibility of making the wrong decision was utterly overwhelming: at this point, doing
nothing actually felt like the proactive choice.