Page 32 of New Dreams for the Village Nurse
‘Still, the wife bit’s what matters. We made vows.’
‘It’s a shame you didn’t think about that when we were married,’ he muttered.
She ignored him again. ‘And you are…?’
Heath shushed Ottilie in a way she didn’t like. She was going to decide whether she would answer, not him.
‘Mila…’ he said in a deliberate tone, ‘much as I’m enjoying our catch-up, is there any way you could possibly go and eat somewhere else? I don’t know, like maybe the Shetland Isles? As far away as you can would be perfect.’
‘Sorry, got a meal booking. How’s Flo these days? Still flying around on her broomstick, or has that mental village of hers finally burned her at the stake?’
Heath shot off his chair. ‘I’m asking you nicely,’ he growled. ‘If you can’t eat somewhere else then go and sit down – preferably where I can’t see you.’
‘So she’s dead?’ Mila asked. ‘You’re touchy so I’m guessing so.’
‘No!’ he snapped. ‘Not that it’s any of your business!’ His gaze travelled to where the waiter was showing a tall, well-built man with a shaved head to a table across the room. ‘Looks like Dwight’s all parked up. Don’t you think you’d better go and join him? Don’t want him getting the wrong idea.’
Mila threw back her head and laughed. ‘About us? Please!’ She waved at the man, who frowned slightly, and then the moment of clarity hit. He sidled over and took Mila by the arm to lead her away with the briefest nod at Heath. At least one half of the couple seemed to have some sense.
‘Wow…’ Ottilie said in a low voice as she watched them go to their own table. ‘So that’s the infamous Mila.’
Heath grimaced. ‘Sorry, but do you mind if we go and eat somewhere else? I know you like this place and…’
‘God, no!’ Ottilie grabbed the coat from the back of her chair. Given what had just passed between Heath and his ex, there was no way they could stay. And besides, secretly she was relieved not to have to go through with the pretence that this wasn’t a regular haunt for her and Josh. Somewhere else was fine with her.
CHAPTER TEN
They’d gone on to another restaurant that served more general Mediterranean cuisine. It was pleasant, if a bit more generic and a bit more of a chain type of place than their first choice. They’d enjoyed their meal and managed to pick the mood back up, but both were very obviously ignoring the massive Mila-shaped elephant at the table. Ottilie didn’t want to bring her up because the memory of the sour looks that seemed close to hatred were still vivid, and she didn’t like to see them on Heath’s usually gentle and handsome face. She was afraid that asking about what had happened at the Italian might bring that expression back again. Presumably, Heath simply didn’t want to talk about the ex who’d caused him such misery and had tried to rip off his gran, which was fair enough. Ottilie didn’t know whether this was because seeing her had opened up all sorts of old wounds, or whether he hadn’t wanted to make Ottilie feel uncomfortable, or whether he simply did hate her that much now. The history he’d given of their marriage was always sketchy, and Ottilie had never pushed for more because she’d heard often enough how it had scarred him, but after today, she couldn’t deny that she was burning with curiosity. Because the thing about hatred thatstrong was that it often came from a place of passion. Hatred like that came from a place of deepest, violent hurt.
Almost everyone who knew about the marriage had told Ottilie he’d been deeply in love with her and had struggled to let go. What Ottilie had seen today ought to have reassured her that hehadlet go, but it had almost done the opposite. It had seemed to Ottilie that it was about more than Mila trying to rip him or his gran off. He’d hated her too much. If there were no feelings left, he wouldn’t have cared. He wouldn’t have let Mila get under his skin; he’d have shaken off her taunting and they’d have moved on, but Ottilie didn’t get any sense of that happening. Not only did it now feel important to know more, but she desperately wanted to.
It was dark by the time Heath drove her home. She was off work the following day and wondered if he might suggest they spend the night together at his place in Manchester, but he didn’t. Ottilie got that – she was certain it was out of respect for the primary reason she’d come to Manchester, but she was afraid that his meeting with Mila had something to do with it too.
The image of the woman came to Ottilie’s mind as they drove the darkened motorways out of Manchester. Physically, she was a bit like Ottilie: on the curvy side but not big, a bit girl next door but with far more make-up and an expensive-looking haircut. The designer goods were very much in evidence, where Ottilie had never cared for brands. From an entirely physical point of view, she could see why Heath had been attracted to her. But that was where the similarities ended. Mila was far more confident than Ottilie could ever be – she had to be to have marched into the restaurant like that and bowl up to the man she’d treated so badly without a care in the world and not an ounce of conscience or remorse. At least, she was showingneither of those things as far as Ottilie could see. In fact, she’d seemed to enjoy the trouble she’d caused.
She glanced across at Heath, his silent attention on the road. What had their marriage been like? She’d heard the gossip and she’d heard his account, but what had it really been like? He’d once loved Mila, that much was evident, because the sort of betrayal and loathing on his face that day couldn’t have come from anywhere else.
And then Ottilie’s mind wandered to the moments before Mila’s arrival. Heath had been about to tell her something, and Ottilie thought she might know what it was. She’d been desperate to hear it too. Those three words. She felt them, and she felt certain he did too, but as yet they hadn’t been said out loud by either of them.
Did it make any difference to them that nobody had said it? Did it matter as long as they both felt it? Ottilie wanted to believe that it didn’t, but she’d always felt there was an intention in the saying of it, a promise. To say those three words was to tell the other person that they were important and wanted and that their happiness was everything. And even if they knew it, as she and Heath did, saying it out loud was different. It was an affirmation to be sent out into the universe.
She looked at him now, eyes fixed on the road, seeming to be as deep in thought as she was, wondering whether the moment had passed them by. It felt that way. She could say it, but it would sound like an afterthought, or perhaps a prompt – either way it didn’t feel like the right time. She could have asked him, but to hear him say it then would have felt hollow, as if she’d forced his hand, and surely it had to come from a place of conviction for it to mean anything. It had to come from his heart to hers, without prompting, without pressure, and it had to be pure and natural. That’s how she’d always seen it.
Despite thinking all this, she still wanted to hear it, and the temptation was there to instigate a return to that conversation. And something about that moment – the thing left unsaid – felt like a turning point, for reasons she couldn’t even see. For good or for ill? That was the question.
‘How are you doing there?’ Heath kept his eyes on the road as he spoke.
‘All right. I was wondering the same about you.’
‘Me? I’m all right.’
‘That’s good. Only I thought…you seemed a bit quiet.’
‘Not really. I was giving you a minute’s peace, that’s all. You’ve had a stressful day; I thought you might have had enough of me jabbering on.’
‘I like to hear you jabber on.’
‘Oh.’
