Page 24 of A Helpin g Hand for the Village Nurse

‘Not now?’ Ottilie asked, sipping her tea.

‘None of my business really,’ Corrine said briskly. ‘I know how I’d feel if my family stopped visiting me so often, though.’

‘It sounds like he’s had a lot on his plate. Perhaps when things settle he’ll be able to see more of her again. She seems very fond of him – was singing his praises when I last spoke to her.’

‘Oh, she won’t have a bad word said about him – thinks he’s made of gold,’ Corrine said.

‘He’s not so bad.’ Victor reached for the teapot. ‘Sometimes a bit impatient, but I expect that’s the city boy in him. Things move at a different pace here and it’s not always easy to wait when you have to.’

‘I’ve noticed that already,’ Ottilie said. ‘I like it, though. Sort of what I’ve come for.’

Corrine gave her a look of such profound sympathy that Ottilie almost didn’t know what to do with it. Her gaze went down to her cup.

‘Victor told me about your loss,’ Corrine said. ‘I really am very sorry to hear it.’

Ottilie gave a stiff nod, hardly daring to look up because her eyes were filling with tears and she didn’t want to show them. She had to be better and stronger than this. How was she going to be any use to the people of Thimblebury if she couldn’t even have a conversation about loss without bursting into tears?

During her career as a nurse she’d learned to be practical and resilient, that death is an inevitable part of life, that everyone loses someone eventually and that the only way to deal with that is to accept it and try to move forward. She’d lost count of how many people she’d guided gently to their ends, holding their hands in the final moments when those dearer to them couldn’t be there, easing their pain, assuaging their fears. She knew how this worked, and yet she didn’t seem to be able to use any of the wisdom she’d amassed over those years to help herself. She couldn’t accept Josh’s death and move forward in the way she’d helped so many others do.

If it had always been this hard for all those families over the years, then what was worse was the realisation that, perhaps, Ottilie had expected too much of them and that she’d somehow treated them with cruelty and not the kindness she’d been trying to offer. What if there had never been any accepting and moving on? What if that was a myth she’d invented to enable her to do her job, so that she could keep moving on to the next patient? What if everything she’d strived for was wrong?

Victor started to whisper, and when Ottilie finally managed to sniff back her tears and look up, he was trying to communicate something to Corrine, clearly not wanting Ottilie to know what it was. At the sight of Ottilie’s renewed attention, both turned to her with smiles that were far too bright. Perhaps they’d been trying to decide what to do about her distress, because, no matter how hard Ottilie had tried to cover it up, it must have been obvious.

‘Yum…’ she said in a bid to rescue the mood. ‘This cake is lovely. Did you make it, Corrine?’

Corrine nodded.

‘She can make them with her eyes shut,’ Victor said.

‘I’ve made so many of them,’ Corrine agreed. ‘Same cake, week in, week out, because old guzzle-guts here can’t get enough of it.’

‘I don’t blame him,’ Ottilie said, cramming some more into her mouth.

Corrine looked pleased but waved away the compliment anyway. ‘It’s easy enough to make – anyone could do it.’

‘Not this well I’m sure,’ Ottilie said.

‘I’ll give you some to take home if you like.’

‘That would be lovely, if you could spare it.’

‘There’s another tinful in the pantry – always is, always enough to spare.’

‘When you’re done,’ Victor said, ‘we can go up and see the girls if you like.’

Ottilie turned to Corrine. ‘Don’t you want to talk to me about your problem first?’

‘Oh, that’ll wait. I’m sure it’s nothing anyway. You go up and see the girls while I finish cleaning in here, then I’ll take five minutes of your time. That’s if you’d like to and you’re not too busy.’

Ottilie laughed. ‘How can I say no to a morning with a bunch of cute alpaca? It’s a deal.’

There was a little kick of excitement as Ottilie spotted Victor’s ‘girls’. She felt like a kid again, being taken to a petting zoo.

‘Oh they’re so cute!’ she cried.

‘They’re pretty all right,’ Victor replied with obvious pride. ‘Good girls too, all of them.’

As one, they seemed to spot him and ambled over. The humans and alpaca reached the gate that separated them at the same time.

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