Chapter 23
Alice was astonished to spot Clyde Forte being dropped off from the back of a motorbike in the carpark by a young rider who kept their visor down over their face.
She was even more astonished to see him stagger off the seat clutching a spade.
He immediately lit a cigarette as he waved his lift away.
Alice decided today was probably not the day to give him a lecture about riding pillion while clinging on to a heavy spade, or smoking and stroke recovery. He wouldn’t listen anyway.
As he was fending off Senga’s insistence that he take one of her hot chocolates and try her brownie bites, Alice swept in to see if Mr Forte needed any help, just as a car pulled up in front of the repair barn.
Both Mr Forte and Alice watched the car turning. There were three people inside.
‘That’ll be Kellie and her ma and da,’ Mr Forte said in a low voice. ‘Mind you don’t go charging in there.’
Alice had been about to do exactly that, hoping to meet the Timmonys, but she lied and told Mr Forte she’d no intention of interfering, which he scoffed at.
‘She’s feart of doing things away from her parents. In case it happens again,’ he told her, sagely, while blowing smoke right at her.
‘Her risk of stroke’s not much greater than anyone else’s,’ Alice said.
‘When you’ve been hit by lightning, you’ll always think it could happen again,’ he said. ‘And it changes a person. You’ve no idea how much.’
Alice could hear Kellie’s mum speaking through the opened car window at her daughter, still in the back seat. ‘My phone’s on, ring any time, but just try and enjoy it. Half an hour, eh?’
Kellie got out and said something back to her, her hands on the rolled-down passenger side window.
Alice couldn’t hear what she was saying, but she could see the way her mum was looking at her, like it was her first day at school and she was putting on a brave face, trying to be encouraging. She thought of her own mum and how she too had often looked at her like that, especially in recent years.
Kellie had straightened up now and watched as her parents’ car rolled out of the drive, both of them waving stoically, their smiles overwritten with worry.
When they were out of sight, Kellie’s shoulders slumped and she turned, realised Alice and Mr Forte were watching her and trudged slowly towards them.
‘I’m staying for thirty minutes,’ Kellie said.
‘Perfect,’ Alice and Mr Forte said together, making them turn and look at one another in surprise.
‘Come on then, if we’re doing this,’ Kellie told them.
* * *
Alice had made all the introductions. Senga had forced hot chocolates into everyone’s hands who didn’t have one, except for Mr Forte who insisted on finishing his cigarette first.
After a while the kids were finishing planting the roses in rows down the centre of each raised bed with Finlay while Murray gave the orders and kept his hands clean, and Mr Forte, Kellie, Mhairi and Livvie each planted one of the four Aspen trees that had arrived from the nursery with their roots wrapped in cloth.
The plan was they’d finish up getting some of the wildflowers and perennials in the ground, then they’d have their picture taken for the newspaper – the guy was due in twenty minutes – then they’d head inside the shed to discuss future plans for how they’d tend the garden.
So far, things seemed to be going well, thought Alice, even if Cary’s absence stung. When her phone rang, she carried it off round the back of the barn, excusing herself.
‘Dad?’ she answered.
‘Ah, good morning, Alice!’ he boomed in his affable way.
‘Is everything all right?’ They hadn’t spoken since Boxing Day, and hearing his voice now only reminded her how much she’d missed him.
‘Just checking in on my favourite daughter.’ His usual joke. She was his only daughter. ‘How’s the new job going?’
‘Fine, thanks,’ she replied. In fact, things had been going well in her consulting room of late.
It had taken the whole three weeks, but she’d got to grips with the records system, been praised by Dr Millen for exhibiting ‘best practice’ in a number of areas as he’d completed his first review of her progress on Friday, and she’d caught two cases of pneumonia early, probably preventing hospitalisation.
Plus she’d successfully helped launch the area’s latest school vaccination programme.
‘I’m actually enjoying it,’ she told him.
‘That’s wonderful!’ His voice bubbled in his generous, hearty way, and the familiarity warmed Alice from the inside.
‘And the community?’ he prompted.
‘They’re…’ How to describe the place? ‘Interesting. Not quite what I expected.’
‘Hah, always expect the unexpected in medicine, eh?’
‘Yes.’ She laughed too. ‘Are you all right?’ It felt strange not to be asking how they both were, him and Mum.
‘Yes, yes, yes, all well,’ he said, shutting down that topic. Alice was beginning to wonder if they’d ever be able to talk about the separation or her dad’s new girlfriend, who, so far, was a sort of awkward open secret nobody wanted to acknowledge out loud.
‘Everything all right with your…’ Dad let the sentence finish itself.
What was he referring to? Her daydreaming? The waking nightmares? The anxiety and panic attacks? ‘Yes, fine.’ He wasn’t the only one who could shut conversations down. She’d learned from the best.
‘I’m doing a bit of community work at the moment; a social prescription gardening project. I’m here now, actually.’
‘Is that Alice?’ came a woman’s voice in the background, accompanied by what sounded like the clatter of dishes and cutlery.
‘Is Mum with you?’ What was going on?
‘You know how we like to keep in touch. I’ve popped round for a visit.’
That explained why Dad had called. It wasn’t quite so out of the blue after all. Mum had reminded him to.
‘Hold on a minute, she wants to talk to you.’
There was some whispering and a handover. ‘Alice, love?’
‘Mum? What’s Dad doing there?’
‘Oh, you know. His Sunday eggs Benedict brunch was always a sort of tradition, and we… kept it going.’
‘Right.’ Alice sighed. She should be glad they were such good friends.
She didn’t reckon she’d have it in her to brunch with an ex-husband who’d recently moved in with another woman, but her mum was a better person than she was, obviously.
‘Just don’t let him take up all your space. That’s your house now.’
‘I know, I know,’ she said in an indulgent way, probably rolling her eyes for Dad’s amusement at her fussing.
‘Tell your mother about the garden project,’ her father called, noisily washing dishes at the sink like his name was still on the deeds. In fact, they probably still were.
Alice explained the nature of the project and how it was actually quite nice to be involved.
‘Are you there in an official capacity?’ her mum wanted to know.
‘I’m workloaded for it. It’s OK, I’m being paid.’
This heralded a flurry of questions that made Alice wish she’d kept her big mouth shut.
‘But you’re not trained for mental-health first-aiding, are you? Isn’t there a mental-health nurse there? A community psych? A neurologist stroke specialist, even? Rehab-physio?’
‘No, none of them. It’s just me here.’
‘She’s the only medic involved, Cranmer!’ her mum relayed.
‘What!’ Her father commandeered the phone. ‘Are you covered for that? Insurance-wise? Seems risky to me.’
‘We’re fine, we’re just pottering in a garden.’
‘Were you party to the risk assessment? I’m not sure about all of this, Alice.’
She tried to explain that if they could see how laid back and informal it all was, they wouldn’t be so alarmed, but their fretting had set off some feelings of insecurity within her that were glowing like hot embers now.
Maybe this was risky? What if she did actual harm, instead of helping?
There were vulnerable people here who deserved a properly trained therapeutic gardener, not Alice, a newbie GP.
Distraction was her only escape. ‘Don’t you have afternoon plans?’ she said, pinching at her closed eyelids, feeling the tiredness she’d held at bay all morning washing over her.
‘We might take a pootle out to Knutsford for supper,’ her dad began.
‘Who? You and Mum?’
‘Yes,’ her dad snapped, a warning not to push it.
Alice desperately wanted to ask what his new girlfriend thought about this cosy exes-who-brunch set-up they had going on, but she didn’t even know the woman’s name and the whole situation left her with a queasy seasickness.
‘And Bastian’s joining us,’ he added shiftily.
‘What? Why?’ She knew Bastian absolutely idolised her father, but she’d no idea he was involved in their weird games of Happy Families now they’d broken up. This didn’t feel right at all.
‘He’s interviewing for a position with my team soon, joining in my grand rounds in anticipation of the selection process, and doing very well, as it happens. I thought he deserved some fatherly advice…’
‘You’re not his father.’
Silence filled the space where he might have blurted, ‘Well, I almost was!’
‘How often do you see him, outside of work, I mean?’ Alice asked.
More awkward silence down the line, before the admission, ‘He comes to Friday suppers with me and Kimberly.’
So Dad’s new girlfriend was called Kimberly? And the three of them shared cosy dinners in the new house she hadn’t even set foot inside. It was all a bit sick. She wanted to tell him this wasn’t a soap opera. Why couldn’t he just leave Bastian out of things?
‘The way you and Bastian left things…’ her dad began.
‘No,’ she cautioned, definitely not wanting to talk about this.
‘It seems a shame, just because you’re there and he’s here, temporarily. That’s all I’m saying. You know, your mother and I spent a lot of time apart when she was pregnant with you and the hyperemesis gravidarum meant she couldn’t work…’