Page 97 of A Helpin g Hand for the Village Nurse

‘No need,’ Faith said. ‘I want to catch that bastard as much as you want us to. I don’t want to get your hopes up again, but I think we’re going to crack it this time. I’ll keep you posted.’

‘Thanks,’ Ottilie said again, because she had nothing else. ‘Bye.’

She heard Faith’s reply dimly as she ended the call. She felt…nothing. She’d imagined she’d feel relief, as she’d done the last time they’d been here, but she was numb. Perhaps because she couldn’t trust this was it, she couldn’t allow herself to feel anything. Surely this wasn’t all she had?

As she picked up her paintbrush she tried to process it, like Faith had said. What did this mean for her? Nothing material would change, not in her world, not here in Thimblebury. And yet, she felt as if everything was about to change. Her relationship with Josh’s memory would change. Did it mean she now had to move on? She would have one less reason to hold back. Did it mean that she finally had to accept he was gone and not coming back? She ought to have done that already, but somehow, this case had kept her tethered. It had been a link, a reason to hold on, and once that was gone, what then? Case closed, everyone moved on and Josh was forgotten? How could she contemplate that, and yet, she couldn’t hold on forever.

As the realisation crashed in on her, numbness gave way to overwhelming sorrow, a sense of loss as great as anything she’d experienced during the first days of her mourning. When this was over, so was Josh? Was it really that simple? And what then?

Paintbrush still clutched in her hand, Ottilie sat on the floor and folded in on herself, a wave of uncontrollable emotion crashing over her. She wept, tears that came thick and fast, full-blown heaving sobs that stole her breath.

Ottilie had no idea how long she’d been crying. She hadn’t heard the footsteps on the floor, but a voice made her look up, shocked and guilty, as if she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t have been. At first she couldn’t quite focus through her tears, and even as she dried her eyes she was confused. Why was he here? Why now?

‘Ottilie!’ Heath’s tone was urgent, almost panic-stricken. ‘What’s wrong?’

She wished she could tell him, but no words would come.

‘Come here…’

Gently, he pulled her to stand and led her to a chair.

‘Take your time,’ he said, crouching so that he was at her level, face to face. ‘And if it’s something you don’t want to tell me that’s all right, but I’m going to stay here until you’re OK.’

She stared at him. She understood the words but not what he meant. Why was he doing this? Why was he here?

‘Do you need a drink? A glass of water? Something else? I can run over to Gran’s – she’ll have some brandy or something.’

‘No.’ Ottilie managed finally to utter a word. ‘Don’t go.’

His hand hovered over hers, uncertain. His gaze searched hers. For answers? Perhaps. She could see that he wanted to comfort her and he didn’t know if he was allowed, so she instinctively reached for his hand and took it, and held it tight. He needed to comfort her and she needed to feel it. Right now she needed strength, and in that moment, she could see he was the man to give it. Whatever their differences, whatever else he might be, he was a good man.

Blindly, she reached for his other hand and pulled both of them to her face, burying herself in them.

‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered.

She didn’t know who she was saying sorry to. To Heath, whom she’d treated so shabbily. To Josh, whom even now she felt she was betraying, simply by wanting so badly to have Heath close. To herself for denying herself the right to happiness.

He moved in and leaned his forehead on hers. She could feel his breath on her hands, could hear it coming in short bursts, and she could tell he was upset. For her? She had to suppose so, though she couldn’t accept she deserved it.

‘Whatever you need,’ he said as she clung tighter to his hands. ‘I’m here.’

She wanted him to hold her and yet hated herself for it. She wanted to be wrapped in his arms, no matter the guilt, but she had no right to ask that of him after the pain she’d caused.

But as if he’d read her thoughts, he gently pulled his hands from her grip and tipped her face up to his. She nodded in answer to his silent question, and he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. She buried herself in his embrace and began to cry again, and that only made him hold her closer still, as if by doing so he could absorb her sorrow and make it his own.

They stayed like that, until Ottilie had no more tears left, and then they stayed locked in silence while she listened to the beats of his heart synching with her own. And by degrees, as she returned to reality, she wondered what on earth he was making of this.

At last, she looked up at him. ‘I’m sorry you had to see all that.’

‘Why are you sorry? It’s not your fault.’

‘Still, I’m sure that was the last thing you needed.’

He shook his head. ‘Doesn’t matter.’

‘I suppose you’re wondering what could have got me in such a state.’

‘Yes, but I’m not going to ask. Tell me about it if you want to, and if you don’t, then don’t. It’s your business if you choose to keep it to yourself.’

---