Page 105 of A Helpin g Hand for the Village Nurse

Ottilie nodded. ‘So when did it take a turn for the worse? When did you think, Hang on, this isn’t funny?’

‘I never wanted to see at the beginning that those harmless things had never been the only things. I’d heard about stuff she was supposed to have done to the guy before me, but I put that down to sour grapes on his part. But once she’d got me hooked, things escalated with me too – credit cards in my name that I hadn’t known about, that sort of thing. The clincher, the absolute sucker punch that opened my eyes, was her going to Gran and telling her our house was going to be repossessed and that I was too proud to ask for money. Said we needed it so she was asking on my behalf, to save our home. And she nearly pulled that one off too. It was only by chance I was looking for something and I came across her bank statement and saw the money in there.’

‘Flo had given it to her?’ Ottilie’s eyes were wide. She’d always seen Flo as a canny, shrewd character, but then, she supposed, it just went to show how people could be persuaded to do anything if they thought their loved ones were in trouble. After all, Ottilie had seen it first-hand today when Flo had shown up at the surgery earlier that day, distraught once again over one of Mila’s demands. ‘How much?’

‘Ten thousand.’ Heath said grimly.

‘What a bitch!’

Heath looked taken aback for a moment at Ottilie’s outburst.

‘Well,’ Ottilie insisted, ‘she is! What a horrible thing to do! What happened?’

‘It was lucky Gran decided to start up a conversation about mortgage payments when I visited a few weeks later and it all came to light,’ Heath said.

His tone was practical, and Ottilie could only imagine the real turmoil going on behind it. It was no wonder he hadn’t trusted her at the beginning. He’d had plenty of reason never to trust anyone again.

‘But that wasn’t all,’ he continued. ‘I discovered that Gran had changed her will.’

Ottilie whipped round. ‘In favour of Mila?’ she asked incredulously.

‘In favour of the both of us, keeping Mum and Dad out of the loop. Mila had played on Dad’s difficult relationship with Gran and used it to persuade her. I still can’t quite believe she pulled it off, because you know Gran’s no fool. It’s sad, because it’s made her harder these days too.’

‘Didn’t Mila realise you’d find out as soon as anything happened to your gran? And the money would belong to both of you, so even if you didn’t kick up a fuss you’d have a say in how it was spent? And she’d have to wait for a long time to get it.’

He shrugged. ‘I don’t think playing the long game bothered her. Must have thought it was worth it. And I suppose she had plans to get it all for herself at some point, but I’ll never know. That was the final straw. I couldn’t bear to look at her after that, let alone stay married to her.’

Ottilie blew out a breath. ‘I can’t believe someone could be that conniving.’

‘Welcome to my world,’ Heath said with a faint smile.

Ottilie’s gate came into view. Should she ask him in?

‘I’ve taken up enough of your time,’ he said, taking the question away from her. ‘I want to check on Gran before I drive back. But thanks again.’

‘Thank you for telling me all this. I feel as if I understand everything a lot better now.’

‘I wish I did,’ he said wryly. ‘One thing’s for sure, I’ll never understand what I saw in that woman.’

CHAPTER THIRTY

The wig had arrived in the nick of time. Ottilie was sure she could have done something with her own hair, but if she was going to dress up she might as well try to do it properly. Her long white dress hung from a hook on the back of her bedroom door. That had been free, made from a spare bedsheet by Flo, who hadn’t had a clue what Ottilie wanted but had got the gist pretty quickly from a photograph and done a brilliant job. She’d found white boots in a charity shop in Keswick – the first one she’d gone into – and it had almost felt like fate.

Now, she was squinting at a tiny photograph on her phone, trying to copy the make-up on her own face. It felt loud, a bit garish – the heavy eyeliner and blood-red lips – and it wasn’t a colour palette she’d ever wear ordinarily.

She took a step back to examine herself in the mirror and hardly recognised the woman staring back. But perhaps it went deeper than make-up. A year since she’d lost Josh and six months in Thimblebury – she was bound to be a different woman.

As she reached for the dress she wondered if her choice was a bit uninspired and predictable. Then again, she had to admit that predictable was probably her middle name. Safe, reliable, predictable Ottilie Oakcroft. Never taking risks, never shocking anyone, always there. It wasn’t a bad thing necessarily; it was just her. At least she was fairly certain that nobody else was going to wear the same costume because she’d checked with the other women who were going to be at the party, which was almost all of her new friends apart from Fliss, who’d simply laughed in her face when Ottilie had asked if she was going to go and said she could think of better ways to spend her evening than being pestered by everyone at the party about various ailments.

Ottilie slipped on her dress and wrapped a belt around her waist. The belt was a bit off, but it would have to do. People would still know who she was meant to be – the wig would take care of that, no matter how off everything else was.

She went to the window and looked out on the glistening lane outside her cottage. It had been raining, and the sparse lamps that lit the streets and alleyways of Thimblebury were reflected in their slick surfaces. At least the rain had stopped. And since the disastrous flood, there hadn’t been anything anywhere near as bad. Ottilie could only hope Fliss was right about that, a once-in-a-generation event that wasn’t likely to happen again. Ottilie had only just got Wordsworth Cottage straight, and it had taken a lot of work from a lot of people – far more than she deserved – and she had absolutely no money left to do it again. Even so, knowing the community here as she did, she suspected that no matter how many times they needed to do it, they’d always be there for her. Moving to Thimblebury had seemed like a random choice at the time – the right job, the right house just happening to be thrown in her path – but more and more she felt she was somehow exactly where she was always meant to be.

The barn where Magnus and Geoff lived was decked with so many lights Ottilie was mildly concerned that passing planes might try to land there. The eaves, the doorways, every window, the gazebo strung over the garden, the little cinema – everything was strung with bulbs and fairy lights. She’d arrived too early to be fashionable, but as she went through the side gate and into the quadrangle at the back of the shop, she found the place was already alive with chat and laughter. Magnus was dressed as Woody from Toy Story, standing at a record deck with headphones on, dancing as he cued up the next track. He looked as if he was imagining himself at a rave in Ibiza, which was even funnier when you considered that he was currently playing ‘Waterloo’ by ABBA.

Geoff was the first to notice her arrival and he rushed over. ‘May the Force be with you!’ he said, giggling as he pulled her into a hug. ‘You look gorgeous!’

‘You look pretty cool yourself.’ Ottilie smiled as she gave his outfit a once-over. ‘Someone from a Roman thing?’

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