Page 10 of A Helpin g Hand for the Village Nurse

‘Blimey you’re good!’

‘Word gets round here fast, especially when you’ve been chatting to Magnus.’

‘Ah. To be fair, he did warn me that he liked to gossip.’

‘Says you’re on your own. Lost your husband. That right?’

Ottilie nodded and the lady gave a sharp tut.

‘I am sorry to hear that,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘Young woman like you shouldn’t be widowed like that.’

‘Thank you,’ Ottilie said. ‘But these things happen, don’t they?’

‘They do.’

Ottilie got up. She didn’t want to disappear into the crack of darkness the mention of Josh always opened up and she didn’t want to make this lady feel uncomfortable by exposing her sorrow, so she did the only thing she could do – she turned it around, made herself useful. ‘Want me to help carry that basket?’

‘You saying I look like a six-stone weakling?’

‘No, but you did say it was heavy.’

‘Never did me any harm carrying it before, and I’ve been carrying it for a lot of years. More than you’ve been around.’

‘But there’s nothing wrong with accepting a bit of help every now and again.’

‘That’s true, but if you take this from me I’ll go all off balance and tip over. Best if I keep hold of it.’

Ottilie let out an unexpectedly genuine giggle. ‘If you put it like that. Maybe I can walk a bit with you? I don’t know the village well so I’d appreciate you pointing out the landmarks.’

‘Hill there. Hill there. Another hill there…there you go – all the landmarks.’

Ottilie laughed again. ‘I suppose I was asking for that. Have you always lived here?’

‘Born and bred. Makes me sound boring, doesn’t it? But there are worse places to spend your days.’

‘I’m beginning to see that already. It’s beautiful here.’

‘A bit different from Manchester, I imagine.’

‘Very.’

‘It’ll take some getting used to; might be a bit quiet for you.’

‘Different from Manchester is what I want right now, and I’ll take a side of quiet if it’s on offer.’

The lady began to walk and Ottilie took that as an invitation to fall into step with her.

‘I’m Ottilie, by the way.’

‘Pleased to meet you. I’m Florence. Most call me Flo.’

‘Pleased to meet you, Flo.’

‘Didn’t say you could call me Flo, did I?’

Ottilie gave her a sharp look but then relaxed as she caught the corners of Flo’s mouth turn up in a secret smile. Flo, as she was learning fast, was dry and quick-witted, and it would take a little time to get the measure of her humour.

‘So you said your grandson lives in Manchester. Whereabouts?’

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