Page 95 of A Helpin g Hand for the Village Nurse

Flo ushered her inside. ‘I’ve got biscuits,’ she said. ‘Those fancy ones. You know…’

‘Hmm,’ Ottilie said, though she didn’t know.

Flo opened the living-room door, and Ottilie had to catch the instinctive groan in her throat. How had she not seen this coming?

‘Oh, you’re here…’

Heath held up a hand in greeting. Ottilie had certainly seen him look more enthusiastic, but her reply wasn’t much better. Flo hadn’t told her he was here, and it looked as if she hadn’t told him Ottilie might be calling either. And Ottilie was now quite sure Flo had been expecting her. It had to be what the bogus appointment at the surgery had been about. She must have known that when she failed to show up, Ottilie would come straight after clinic to check on her.

Clever Florence and stupid Ottilie.

‘Yes,’ Ottilie said, glancing at Flo briefly before turning back to him. ‘Your gran didn’t show for her clinic appointment. I wanted to make sure everything was all right.’

‘A bit above and beyond, isn’t it? Calling here, I mean? What’s wrong with her? Oh, hang on – you can’t tell me. But it’s enough to come to her house, is it?’

Ottilie gave him a sharp look. He was back – that cynical, untrusting, suspicious man she’d first met in this very room.

‘It’s called being a nurse.’

‘You’re on duty then?’

‘No, but that doesn’t stop me from caring.’

‘Sit down,’ Flo instructed her.

Ottilie did as she was asked while Flo went into the kitchen.

‘How have you been?’ Ottilie asked Heath, more for something to break the awkwardness. She had a pretty good idea how he’d been, because she’d only seen him a few days before when he’d come to help with her radiators. That meeting had been as mortifying as this, but at least they’d had the distractions of other people and a job to do – no small talk required.

‘Good,’ he said with about as much conviction as a man who had no idea what the word even meant. ‘How’s work?’

‘Like I was never away.’

‘That must be good then. As you like your job so much. I mean, clearly you love it because here you are, doing it out of hours…’

‘It is and I do. Is it so bad to care about people?’

Flo came back in with a cup and saucer for Ottilie, cutting short his reply – not that Ottilie particularly wanted to hear it.

‘There you go.’

Heath stood up. ‘I should get back. Long drive and that.’

‘Already?’ Florence said, and Ottilie was struck by a distinct sense of déjà vu.

Hadn’t this scene played out just like this once before? Before she and Heath had got to know each other, before she’d been shown what it was she was throwing away. But it was too late now – she could see clearly that the damage was done and there was no way back. He couldn’t stand to be here with her long enough to finish his tea, even if that meant upsetting his grandmother. Ottilie had hurt him and he wasn’t willing to forgive, and she hardly blamed him for that. It seemed she’d triggered something in him that had almost started to heal, something to do with his past and his ex. It looked as though what Ottilie had feared as she’d discussed him with Stacey was right – he was beyond help. Whatever he’d been through had damaged him, and bringing him back was more than Ottilie could do – she had enough damage of her own to repair. Perhaps it was time to release him from all his obligations to her.

‘By the way, I don’t think I’ve really thanked you for all your help,’ she began as he reached for his coat.

‘It’s no problem,’ he said stiffly.

‘I reckon we’re almost done. I mean, I think what still needs doing is easy enough for me to do myself. So…’

‘You don’t want me to come this weekend. Got it.’

His tone was terse, and even in the midst of their current awkwardness it shocked her to hear. It was like the snarl of a wounded animal.

‘I didn’t mean it like that; I only meant I know you’re giving up a lot of your time to come up here from Manchester, and I’m sure you’d like your weekends and evenings back.’

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