Out of Practice (33 page)

Piers smiled ingratiatingly, adjusting his silver cufflinks, and Julia suppressed a little shiver. ‘Of course, Dr Channing, of course. As you may recall, the properties on Blythe Street
are always very much in demand on account of the views across the parkland from the bedrooms, but then I don’t need to tell you that.’ He tapped on the calculator on his desk and sucked
for a moment on a Squire & Bates pencil before giving his professional opinion. ‘I won’t lie to you, Dr Channing; it’s not the best time to sell. The market’s fallen
significantly since you bought and, depending on your mortgage situation, I’m afraid there’s a real risk of negative equity.’

Julia tried to keep her face in neutral, but a tiny tic flickered in her eyelid. ‘But do you have any prospective purchasers on file?’

‘We do, we do, I’m just not sure that any of them would be prepared to match what you paid for it. Let’s see now, two bedrooms, spacious garden, off-road parking . . .
it’s a little gem.’ He steepled his fingers together and tried to look sincere. ‘Obviously, if you’re determined to sell, Dr Channing, we can put together a marketing
package for you, dip a toe in the commuter market, see if we can get a little bidding-war going, but I want to be upfront with you. It’s a buyer’s market at the moment.’

Julia nodded slowly, hearing her suspicions spoken out loud, even by the notoriously smooth Piers Bates, had rendered her incapable of speech. In the back of her mind, she’d always assumed
that, if the worst came to the worst, she could just sell her house, release some capital, pay off her debts and give some money to her parents to keep them at arm’s length. It hadn’t
crossed her mind until she’d actually begun to read the property pages that her mortgage might actually be worth more than her house.

‘Are you free now?’ Piers asked, clicking print on the computer and gathering up her property details from before. ‘I’ve got a window and we could pop round and do a
proper valuation, let you know where you stand and then we can take it from there? Just give me five minutes, okay?’

Julia stood up dumbly, trying to stop her mind whirring. A wave of nausea washed over her and she couldn’t think clearly. So much for Plan B. She certainly didn’t think her
‘des-res’ would be quite so desirable as a house-share with her parents. She simply nodded and picked up her bag. She managed a half-hearted wave to Rachel who was clearly eavesdropping
whilst doing the filing.

Julia didn’t know whether to blame or thank Holly Graham after their conversation earlier. After all it was Holly’s notion of losing the ‘shoulds’ that had made her walk
into Squire & Bates. She may not like what she’d found out about the likely value of her house, but at least now she knew.

And actually, now she started thinking about all the little
shoulds
that held such power over her, she was able to analyse them from a more objective perspective.

Why did she cling on to the notion of owning her own home? Her mortgage was enormous and gave her little flexibility. Why didn’t she just sell up and rent something more modest?

She knew that she wasn’t alone in this: a generation of Thatcher’s children, brainwashed into believing that you were only a success once you owned your own bricks and mortar. It
wasn’t an optional indicator of success – it was carved in stone in their psyches; it was their right.

Reeling from the thoughts that exploded from this, her very own damascene moment, Julia couldn’t help but smile. She may not want to advertise her decision, with the partnership battle
looming, for fear of sending the wrong signals, but Julia felt a sense of relief. After all, if she was living in a rented one-bed flat, there would be no room for houseguests or lodgers, would
there?

Put like that, Julia felt a fool for not thinking of it sooner.

She thought back to last night’s cleaning frenzy, working on the bathroom grouting with an expensive interdental toothbrush bought specifically for that purpose. What a waste of an
evening!

Julia checked herself there. Good God, where would this train stop? Would she soon be eating processed sugar and coming to work with no make-up on?

Even as that thought crossed her mind, she could feel the tightening mask of foundation pulling at her skin. What would it feel like to see the world without its frame of mascaraed lashes?

She looked over at Piers, a little flushed and neatly assembling the tools of his trade and wondered what he thought when he looked at her. Did he see a glamorous, well-groomed professional or
did he see someone so physically perfect that she was cold and aloof, as Dan had once said in anger?

It was a thought that often tormented Julia, as one by one, the slightly tubbier, frizzy haired girls of her acquaintance had married and settled down.

Yet here she was.

Not even forty and on the shelf.

Her body may be honed to perfection in the gym, but really what was the point when nobody ever got to see it?

Julia sighed. Even Holly, with those vile stretchy suede boots and her endearingly rumpled ponytail, seemed to attract men like flies. All the guys falling over themselves to make sure she has a
snack because she’s oh-so-tired looking after her picture-book twins. Even Holly, with her undoubted stretch marks and the faintest hint of a moustache, was undoubtedly getting more action
than she was.

Maybe if she hadn’t been so determined to maintain the façade of perfection around Dan, Julia thought, they might still be together now?

If, just for once, she’d enjoyed breakfast in bed, without worrying about crumbs? If they could have made love in the shower, without noticing the mildew?

If she had found a way to say ‘fuck it!’ would she still have Dan?

Rather than viewing Elsie Townsend as outspoken and eccentric, to be tolerated at best, should she in fact be venerated as the font of all knowledge? She was definitely on to something, Julia
conceded.

Finally stepping out into the Market Place brought Julia up short, as it was suddenly buzzing with the lunchtime sandwich-grabbers. Piers had been prattling on with his spiel
at her side, but her mind was still partially in her alternative universe.

Seeing Henry Bruce walking straight towards them, lifting slightly from his elevated shoes with each step, and with Jade hanging on to his arm, forced Julia’s mind into focus, thinking
fast.

‘Shit! Just play along, would you, Piers?’ she whispered urgently.

‘Henry, Jade, you two look like you’re on a mission,’ Julia smiled determinedly.

Henry did a swift double-take when he saw who Julia was with, even more so when Julia tucked her arm possessively through Piers’.

‘We’re just popping out for some lunch at the deli,’ Henry replied, conspicuously trying not to stare at Piers. After all, who was he to talk?

Jade, however, had no such compunction. ‘So,’ she said cheerily, ‘how long have you two been dating then? You’ve done well to keep that quiet around here.’

Julia slowly exhaled. It was a sign of how bad things had become that she would rather let the town believe she was dating Slimy Bates, than let on to her financial predicament. Pride was
obviously yet another luxury she couldn’t afford any more.

‘It’s all quite recent actually,’ said Piers truthfully. ‘We’re just seeing how it goes, aren’t we, honey?’ Never one to miss an opportunity, Piers
leaned in and kissed Julia lingeringly on the lips, squeezing her bottom for good measure.

That obviously answered her earlier question then – not off-puttingly perfect, merely out of his league – he’d leapt like a salmon at the opportunity for a feel.

It was hard to say at that point who was more uncomfortable and Henry merely raised one perfect eyebrow. ‘When you’re done with your
appointment
, do come and have a word
with me, Julia. It’s important. I’ll wait at the deli for you.’

‘Okay,’ she said, with no time to think up an excuse, all efforts being focused on other things. One, how to disguise the revulsion she felt for Henry Bruce, his smoothly manicured
fingers having stroked the side of Jade’s neck throughout the entire conversation. And two, how to keep her temper with Piers Bates who was clearly taking this scenario and running with
it.

As Henry and Jade walked on, their heads bowed together in intense gossipy conversation, Julia stepped back.

She slowly removed her arm from Piers’ and resisted the overwhelming urge to wipe her mouth. ‘Shall we get this valuation done then?’

Piers walked along beside her, a discernible spring in his step. ‘Now when you say valuation, do you mean valuation, or is that just a clever ploy to get me into your bedroom?’

Julia shuddered slightly. ‘Let’s stick with the numbers, Piers. I think that will be disappointing enough for one day, don’t you?’

When Julia stepped into the deli half an hour later, Jade was gone and Henry was sipping at an espresso, the tiny cup incongruous in his large hands.

‘I’m glad you came,’ he said smoothly, signalling to the waitress for another for his guest. There was no sign of Hattie or Lance and for that, Julia was grateful.

‘I wasn’t sure I had a choice,’ replied Julia coldly. The valuation on her house had not gone well.

She knew that there were people in Larkford who considered her and Henry Bruce to be cut from the same cloth. But just because they both took care of their appearance and didn’t gush
endlessly at the sight of a baby or a puppy, that did not make them soulmates.

She thought of his sweet wife, Tina, and wondered how he had the nerve to brazenly flaunt his affair around the town.

‘So?’ she prompted, eager to get this over with.

‘Slow down, Julia,’ he drawled. ‘These things cannot be rushed. You and I need to talk.’

‘I cannot think of anything we have in common to talk about.’

‘Really? Nothing?’ A small burst of spittle bloomed on his lip and Julia had to look away.

She looked back pretty quickly though, as his hand fastened on her arm.

‘My enemy’s enemy is my friend,’ he said. ‘Have you heard that expression?’

Julia said nothing.

‘I just think that we should get our heads together, Julia. I can make you a very wealthy young lady – and goodness knows, it can’t be cheap having mummy-dearest in and out of
rehab. Not to mention that, if I were an aspiring Senior Partner, and I had just discovered that my house was worth tuppence ha’penny, and I had no money to buy in, I might not be quite so
quick to rebuff the hand of friendship.’

Julia could feel the blood rush to her face. Who the hell did he think he was?

‘Come on, Julia, stop being stubborn. Throw your support behind me and we can get Dan Carter out of the picture. Wouldn’t that be satisfying, hmm? Can’t be easy seeing him
every day. So this would be a win all round. You do your TV show and work with me as your Senior Partner and I’ll cut you in.’ He leaned in close, his breath sickly sour from the
espresso. ‘There are so many opportunities here, Julia, and I hold the key to all of them.’

He waved for the bill and peeled several twenty-pound notes out of a silver money clip, tossing them on the table carelessly. ‘Think about it, Julia. You can’t buy in. It’s me
or Dan. Your romantic past or your financial future. It really should be an easy decision.’

‘So,’ said Maggie the pharmacist, carefully wiping a section of the front desk, before perching on it daintily, ‘what did you think of the Spring Swim then,
Dr Graham?’

Holly couldn’t help but smile. She’d downloaded some of the photos from the weekend onto her laptop last night and couldn’t remember the boys both looking so happy. At the same
time, that is. The coincidence of good moods had been running rather short of late. In fact, Holly’s hard drive was crammed with photos of the twins, in which one would be happily smiling and
the other grizzling miserably. It probably didn’t need pointing out that the worst of the grizzlers was always Ben. But, to give Tom his dues, should the moon and tides align for Ben to be
having a good day, Sod’s Law would dictate that Tom would, of course, give in to the dreaded sulks.

Holly had been somewhat blindsided though, when the picture of Taffy and the three of them had opened on her screen. It was easily the best photograph of Holly and the boys that had ever been
taken. All eyes open, everyone smiling, everyone looking relaxed and easy, cheeks flushed pink from the cold. And as for Holly herself? Well, if pressed to put aside her modesty, even Holly could
see that she looked gorgeous in that picture – healthy, glowing and positively radiant. The conundrum, of course, lay in the fact that she could hardly print it out and pop it by her bed, or
even save it as her screensaver. The twins’ sparkling, excited smiles would have to be saved in a folder for clandestine viewing.

Holly wasn’t stupid, though. She knew that if it had been anyone else from The Practice in that photo, it would already be in a frame on the sideboard.

Keeping it quiet, not showing Milo – that spoke volumes. In fact, Holly rather wished that the photo had come with its own volume knob. She could hardly hear herself think this morning for
the cacophony in her head, the tattoo of Taffy, Taffy, Taffy beating in time with her pulse.

She’d been forced to revert to her tried and tested routine of denial and activity. Hence the coffee break with the girls at the front desk (distraction), rather than in the doctors’
lounge with certain other doctors (denial). ‘See,’ she told herself. ‘You’ve got this handled.’

Maggie chattered on about previous years; heat-waves and floods, flu outbreaks and dramas notwithstanding. ‘Even me, Holly – and there’s no need to look so shocked –
I’m in that river once a year like clockwork. Of course,’ she lowered her voice conspiratorially, ‘I do send in a river sample to the Environment Agency every February. Three-week
turn around, terribly efficient they are. And you’ll be pleased to know that the water’s top notch.’

Holly grinned. ‘You really do think of everything, Maggie. I shall have to remember to come and get the update next year, before we all take the plunge.’