Page 98 of A Helpin g Hand for the Village Nurse

Ottilie nodded slowly and he let go of her, pulling up a spare chair and sitting on it to face her.

‘I, um…’ she began. ‘I just had a phone call from Josh’s…my husband – from his colleague. His police colleague. I don’t know if I ever told you he was in the police.’

‘No, but Gran did.’

Ottilie gave a wan smile. She’d never told Flo that, but she supposed the village gossip would have done. ‘Did your gran tell you how he died?’

‘No.’

So that was one detail that hadn’t made it round the village. At least Fliss – the only person Ottilie had confided that detail to – kept her counsel well enough.

Ottilie took a breath, ready to say it out loud, one more time. She owed Heath that much of an explanation for what he’d just seen.

‘He was killed on duty by a gang member. Everyone sort of knew who it was, but there hasn’t been enough evidence to take it to court. Until now.’

‘Hmm.’ Heath looked down at his hands. ‘So I guess it’s brought that time back again? I can see why that would be distressing. Thank you.’

‘For what?’

‘For trusting me enough to share it with me.’

‘I should be thanking you for being here.’

‘I didn’t do anything special; it was a lucky coincidence.’

‘But still…’

‘I’m glad I was. I wouldn’t like to think you might have gone through that alone.’ He studied her for a moment. ‘Has it always been like that? That bad?’

‘Sometimes,’ she admitted, surprised by her own candour. ‘A lot in the beginning.’

He shook his head slowly, never taking his eyes from her, so full of sympathy and pity that she could barely take the weight of it. She hated that she made him feel that way, and yet she was more grateful than she could say that he cared. ‘I don’t know how you get through it,’ he said. ‘But I understand a lot more now.’

She wondered what it was he understood, but she was too emotionally spent to ask. She was exhausted – physically as well as mentally. All she wanted to do was lie down and sleep, but there was still so much to do here and she couldn’t.

‘I should wrap that paintbrush before it dries out,’ she began, getting up from her seat, but he waved her back down.

‘I’ll do it.’

‘There’s cling film on the table,’ she said, too tired to argue. Maybe she would pack up and head to bed after all. Maybe a quick afternoon nap would see her right to starting again later.

‘Did you come for something other than my breakdown?’ she asked, and he turned to her with the faintest hint of a smile.

‘I lost my wallet. I couldn’t think where it might be and it was really only clutching at straws that I came over in case I’d dropped it here.’

‘Oh, well I haven’t found one. Was there a lot of money in it?’

‘Not really, and I’ve cancelled what cards were in there, so it doesn’t matter that much. The door was open…I hope you don’t mind that I came in. I did shout.’

‘God, don’t apologise for that. I hope you find your wallet.’

‘I don’t really care either way. I was just in the neighbourhood and thought it was worth checking. If I don’t find it, then it’s only a wallet. Sometimes you need to be reminded that there are far bigger things than lost wallets.’

‘True. I suppose I did that in a bit of a dramatic way,’ she added ruefully.

‘Sometimes…’ he added slowly, almost as if talking to himself, ‘you need to be reminded that no matter how bad your own pain looks, there’s someone going through more.’

‘Everyone’s pain matters.’

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