Page 97 of New Dreams for the Village Nurse
‘If that’s what you want. I can’t believe you’d throw this away but I’m not going to beg.’
‘I didn’t ask you to.’
‘Goodbye, Ottilie.’
‘Bye, Heath.’
She was still calm as he walked out of the front door and let it slam behind him. And she was still calm as she went to the window to watch him drive away.
And then the floodgates opened and the tears began to fall, and she wondered what on earth she’d done.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
In the month since she’d last seen Heath, Ottilie had kept herself busier than ever. While she was occupied she didn’t have to think about what she might have lost. He’d always said her schedule was too packed to fit him in, and now she was making it so. This had been her decision and this was how it had to be.
He’d phoned a few times, wanting to talk it through, and while she’d listened she hadn’t been convinced by a single thing he’d said that her decision had been the wrong one. Flo had marched round demanding she take him back, full of tales of his misery, telling Ottilie she’d never forgive her, expressing amazement and confusion as to how Ottilie could think anything was Heath’s fault. Ottilie tried to explain as best she could but soon realised there was no point because Flo wasn’t listening. It pained her to lose Flo’s friendship, but once Flo realised she wasn’t going to change Ottilie’s mind it became another casualty of Mila’s scheming, because Flo stopped speaking to Ottilie entirely, even crossing the street to avoid her.
Other people were more supportive, even if they didn’t quite understand it. Stacey thought Ottilie had gone mad and said so. She could see why Ottilie might want to tear a strip offHeath, but to end things completely – that she couldn’t see. Fliss had made no comment on the situation other than to tell Ottilie that she could take whatever time she needed to get her head straight in the aftermath, and although she appreciated the gesture, Ottilie didn’t take any time off because that wasn’t what she needed. Lavender had heard the news and simply said what a shame she thought it was, but not much else, which was surprising for someone who loved a drama as much as she did. Perhaps she could see how much pain Ottilie was keeping inside and was afraid if she pushed, she might unleash something she wouldn’t be able to put back. Ann, Corrine and Victor uttered words of sympathy, but there wasn’t a lot else they could say, and so conversation with them quickly returned to the usual topics and Ottilie was glad about that. The people who seemed most upset were Magnus and Geoff, who both looked as if they wanted to scoop Ottilie up into desperate hugs every time she went into their shop for a pint of milk.
So life had been a thankfully endless round of work, visits, volunteering and sleep, and although Ottilie longed for Heath in every spare second, she’d ensured there weren’t too many of them to be had. When she walked in the hills she made sure she had company to take her mind off him, and if she went into town she went on the bus to make sure there were people all around her to take her mind off him, and when she visited or volunteered or worked, she made sure every conversation at those places avoided anything that might take her thoughts to him. Not only that, but she’d been recruited to help with the harvest festival and was busy fetching donations of food and money whenever they were offered and planning for the huge celebration at the community kitchen where she and the other usual volunteers would cook a slap-up dinner for everyone.
The summer days began to lengthen, rushing towards the season’s end and bringing the harvest festival ever closer. Thesewere the days she’d have been out on her newly renovated bicycle, given to her by Ann at Hilltop Farm and cleaned up by Victor at Daffodil Farm. Heath would have been with her on his – they’d talked about it before. Perhaps they’d have followed trails that hugged one of the vast, glittering lakes that drew people from far and wide to the district, a heat haze on the road and the lazy buzzing of bees in the wildflower hedgerows. Perhaps they’d have stopped for a picnic, lying on the peppery grass of a hill with the sun on their faces, side by side, smiling up at the sky. They might even have trekked the path to the hillside waterfall, the rockpool Flo had taken Ottilie to the year before, the one Flo had swum in as a girl and where Heath had come to rescue them when Flo had fallen ill. Perhaps they’d have taken a dip themselves, the rushing water crystal clear and shockingly cold, laughing as it took their breath away and stripped the heavy summer heat from their limbs.
Instead, Ottilie was working in a stuffy office, or helping out in a furnace-like kitchen with her clothes sticking to her, red-faced and a permanent sheen of sweat on her brow, or sitting in Fliss’s shaded kitchen listening to her complain about this thing or that thing that happened at the surgery, or else surrounded by fractious and tetchy babies in the baking room where the mother and child group was held.
She was there on one particularly hot day, watching a bluebottle constantly missing a wide-open window as one of the mums tried to shoo it out when Stacey’s voice interrupted her musings.
‘What’s that?’ Ottilie turned to Stacey and shook herself awake again.
‘The barbecue. Saturday afternoon is supposed to be good weather so I thought I’d do one. Can you come?’
‘I think so. Who else is coming?’
‘Well, that’s the point – Chloe is bringing her boyfriend. Apparently, they’re a thing now. Before they were “talking”’ – she crooked her fingers into the air in speech marks as she said the word – ‘whatever that means. I said to her, you’re either going out or you’re not, but apparently, it’s not like that now. Couples “talk” for a bit before they do anything else. What was wrong with meeting a fella, having a date and then being an item? Nowadays it’s like a raft of interviews for a job. You have to “talk” to them, and then you’re sort of seeing them but even then you’re not an item.’
‘So when does that come?’
‘God knows! I don’t think there’s an actual rule, only when one of them says they’re a thing then they are. Anyway, Chloe says they’re a thing and she’s bringing him over.’
‘Wow, she must like him.’ Ottilie pushed her damp fringe back from her forehead.
‘That’s what I thought. So I figured a barbecue might be a nice way to get to know him without it being too intense.’
‘Won’t it be intense if half the village is there inspecting him?’
‘More intense than if the three of us are sitting around a table while I ask him questions that look as if I’m trying to interrogate him and Chloe glares at me and hisses for me to shut up?’
‘Since you put it that way,’ Ottilie said with a soft laugh.
‘This way, even though there are a lot more new people for him to meet, he’s not the focus of attention. We can get to know him but there will be other stuff going on too, and if they want to blend into the background a bit then they can do that more easily. Plus there’ll be loads of help on hand for Mackenzie, and he loves company these days.’
Ottilie nodded. ‘He does seem to be turning into a little social butterfly, doesn’t he? Takes after his grandma.’
‘He definitely doesn’t take after his moody mum,’ Stacey said, sending a fond look at Mackenzie, who was sitting on oneof the play mats, staring intently at a picture book with textured pages. ‘But he’s the best thing that ever happened to us, even if we had lots of doubts before he was born. I couldn’t imagine life without him now.’
‘I bet. He is adorable. You’re asking everyone in the village or keeping it to close friends?’
‘I thought I’d ask Simon too.’
