Page 68 of A Helpin g Hand for the Village Nurse

It hadn’t been forgotten, but he’d more than made up for anything insensitive he’d said previously by being here today. For this, she was willing to forgive if not forget, but it didn’t seem as if he could move past it quite as easily.

‘Sometimes we get people wrong – that’s how it is,’ she said. ‘As long as we’re open to seeing them differently if we’ve got it wrong, so that we get it right…that’s all that matters.’

‘Still, I want to stay and help.’

‘It’s going to be a long night.’

‘Well, that promise has never been made lacking so much fun before.’

Ottilie gave a small laugh. ‘I’ll bet. I won’t lie; I’d appreciate a bit of help. Maybe I’ll let you stay an hour or so.’

‘Spoil me, why don’t you?’

She gave a tired smile. There wasn’t a lot to smile about, but his presence was making her feel she could manage the odd one. Glancing around, she could see there was still much to do, but with Heath there, for the first time that day, she was beginning to feel she could manage it.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

No matter how she’d looked at the problem, there didn’t seem to be a solution. Nothing that was obvious to Ottilie, at any rate. It was quickly becoming apparent, even without a professional opinion, that the house was more damaged than she could afford to repair.

Way more.

There were cosmetic things, like sodden, discoloured wallpaper and paintwork and ruined carpets, but there were also things that looked more ominous, like crumbling plaster, warped woodwork and waterlogged floorboards. And that was just the obvious stuff. There were bound to be things she couldn’t see or didn’t understand. What about her wiring – was that safe? What about the foundations – were they compromised in some way?

She could remortgage, she supposed, or take a loan of some kind, and that wouldn’t be so bad if the sums involved weren’t potentially huge enough to terrify her. She’d started to hear gossip in the village, reports of what others were having to find to fix their own flood damage, and some were running into tens of thousands. And what if she went through all that, found the money, fixed the house, only to be flooded again? What then? There was only so much money she could borrow.

She’d gone to film club that evening despite everything, because it was better than moping in her stinking, silt-stained house, but she’d struggled to enjoy it. Nobody seemed to have noticed, however, and she was glad of that much. As for the others, spirits were remarkably high, given that many of them were dealing with the aftermath of the floods too. Maybe they had more of a plan than she had, or maybe they were all pretending just like her.

Magnus and Geoff, as they always did, had opened a couple of bottles of wine and laid out nibbles. Ottilie had apologised for not contributing, but Magnus had simply thrown his arms around her in a tight hug.

‘My goodness! You don’t need to apologise for anything! I’m glad you’re here.’

Poor Magnus. He’d spent most of the evening overcompensating, telling her how sorry he was for his flippantly delivered and disastrous advice the day she’d come to see him about sandbags. She’d told him every time that it wasn’t his fault, but she could see that he didn’t believe that for a minute. It was obvious he suspected that, on some level, she did blame him, and it didn’t matter how many times she reassured him otherwise, he’d probably always believe that. Ottilie got it; she’d have blamed herself too had the tables been turned.

Lavender shot her a glance of understanding as Magnus came over for the fifth or sixth time since the film had finished and they’d all got together to discuss it with their drinks and nibbles, to see if she was all right and if she needed more food or more drink, but really, just to keep the subtext going.

Lavender had warned her this would happen. Lavender had already warned her that Magnus had been up and down the village telling anyone who’d listen how bad he felt, as if he’d somehow ordered the river to overfill. At this point, Ottilie was so tired of thinking about the flood she was almost sick of hearing Magnus’s apologies. She didn’t want or need them – she only wanted to find a way out of the situation it had left her in.

She’d confided this to Lavender – not that it was a secret of any sort – but she hadn’t been able to bring herself to admit that she wasn’t covered on her house insurance and that it was completely her fault. She felt stupid for not checking, and she was certain everyone else would think her stupid too. And she hadn’t yet told anyone how desperate her finances were now that she had to find so much money to fix the damage, and that she was increasingly of the opinion that her only option was to cut her losses and sell Wordsworth Cottage. It would have to be at a knockdown price, because the new owners would have to spend all the money she couldn’t on making it habitable again, and with the proceeds, Ottilie doubted she’d get another suitable house in the Lakes. She’d have to go where she could afford to live but felt certain it would be closer to Manchester, and would mean leaving Thimblebury and her job as their village nurse behind.

It felt like a bitter prospect after she’d worked so hard to settle here, but she’d learned that life was often like that and there was no use in complaining about it. At least, that was what she told herself. The reality she had to deny every morning was that to leave Thimblebury, just when she’d started to feel like she belonged, might break her. She’d lost too much already to lose this. She’d grown to love this quirky, time-trapped, sometimes silly little village, the glorious rolling hills surrounding it, the glittering lakes on her doorstep, the cottage gardens stuffed with flowers. Even the river that had caused so much damage was a beautiful, meandering current, lined with reeds and willows and yellow marsh flowers and wildlife the likes of which Ottilie had never seen.

She loved her new friends, her job – and she’d grown weirdly fond of hearing how great the previous nurse, Gwen, was, because she hoped it meant that one day they’d all be telling her replacement how great she was. Not because she was great, but because she saw that when Thimblebury took you in, it really took you in. Being a part of this village was to have the maddest extended family, a bunch of people who would do anything for you and love you to the end. She’d never known community like this before and she doubted she would again. They’d found her when she’d needed them most, and how could she leave them now?

Stacey came with her drink. ‘How are you doing there?’ she asked gently.

Ottilie forced a smile, pushing her melancholy to one side. There would be a time for misery later, when she was alone, not now amongst people who were trying so hard to be there for her. ‘The film cheered me up.’

‘Did it?’ Stacey looked cynical, and at this, Ottilie couldn’t help a short laugh.

‘OK, you got me. It took my mind off things, at least.’

‘I don’t believe that either.’

‘OK, then while I was here looking at that I couldn’t be at home looking at the tidemarks on my walls – that do you?’

‘That’s what I thought.’ Stacey patted a hand on Ottilie’s arm. ‘Have you had anyone in to quote yet?’

Ottilie reached for a tortilla chip from a bowl – not because she wanted it, but because she wanted to pretend this wasn’t bothering her as much as it was. At home she was barely eating for the worry, but she didn’t want anyone else to know that. ‘You mean someone to give me a cost for the flood damage?’

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