Chapter Fifteen
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Ottilie rested her hands on her hips and surveyed the bedroom. In one corner, there was a neat pile of unopened boxes, a large suitcase sitting alongside. ‘It seems a bit too small now that you’ve got everything in, doesn’t it?’
‘It’ll be fine once everything is unpacked and in cupboards,’ Fion said. ‘It only looks like there isn’t enough room because all those boxes are there.’
Ottilie turned to her. ‘You can say if it’s not. I’d rather you did. I might be able to find some room in my wardrobe for you, or?—’
‘I’m not doing that. It’s perfect. Stop worrying – everything will fit. It’s kind of you to have me here in the first place.’
‘I’m glad to. Is this it? Nothing else to come from your parents’ place?’
‘There’s a bit, but Mum said I could leave it there for as long as I needed to. It’s not stuff I particularly need day to day – more like old scrapbooks and shoes I don’t wear and that sort of thing. If I do need anything, I’m not all that far away; I can go and get it.’
Ottilie wondered what Conrad had thought about her car sitting outside as Fion loaded it up. According to Fion, Caron was out shopping. Fion had thought it best to move her stuff while she was missing because she knew how upset her mum would be to see it. Conrad, if he’d cared at all that his youngest daughter was leaving home, didn’t show it. But, Ottilie supposed, that would have meant having to acknowledge her too, and she was beginning to realise he’d never do that. She pretended not to care, but it was difficult not to feel rejected by his actions. They were blood, after all, whether he wanted to admit it or not. She’d wanted to go in to speak to him, explain their plans, reassure him that she’d look out for her half-sister, but Fion had begged her not to. Perhaps he hadn’t even been aware of Ottilie waiting on the road outside in her car as Fion brought her belongings out.
‘If you want to decorate, feel free,’ Ottilie said. ‘It’s never been done since I moved in – not this room at any rate – so you’d be doing me a favour if you did fancy giving it a lick of paint and some fresh wallpaper.’
‘I wouldn’t want to do something you wouldn’t like with it.’
‘I’m sure you’d choose something nice. If it makes you feel better, we could choose it together. That way, when you leave, I’ll still have something I like in here.’
Fion nodded. ‘That would be nice. When do you think I should go and see Damien? He said any time.’
‘It’s up to you. Maybe in work hours, before teatime? Otherwise you’re more likely to disrupt his evening with Melanie.’
‘You’re right. I’ll finish putting everything away here and then I’ll go.’
‘Do you want to make it a driving lesson? I could come with you and see Corrine for an hour. Then we could drive down together.’
‘It’s still light at least,’ Fion said, her gaze going to the window where a heavy sky was dotted with darker patches of grey. ‘I’ll be able to see where I’m going today and hopefully miss the ditch this time.’
‘I think I’d prefer you to avoid the ditch too,’ Ottilie said. She moved out of the doorway and onto the landing. ‘I just need to do some quick bits in the house, so I’ll see to those while you finish here, and then we can get going.’
She was on the stairs when there was a knock at the door. Then the letterbox was flipped open and a voice travelled through.
‘Hello! Ottilie?’
With a wry smile, Ottilie opened the front door to find Flo on the step outside.
‘Oh,’ she sniffed. ‘I didn’t know if you were in.’ She glanced past Ottilie and into the house. ‘On your own? Not moved your sister in yet?’
‘Yes, actually,’ Ottilie said, knowing perfectly well that Flo knew Fion had moved in because there was no doubt she’d seen them bringing their things in and was only pretending she hadn’t. At least, if there was a world in which that hadn’t happened, then it was also a world in which candy-floss trees and flowers made of jam existed. ‘She’s just settling in now.’
‘Where is she?’ Flo said, tottering down the hallway. ‘I thought I might say hello.’
‘Upstairs. She’s unpacking. Do you want a cup of tea while you wait for her?’
‘You could tell her I’m here.’
‘So you don’t want a cup of tea?’
‘Well, yes…if you’re making one.’
‘I could be making one,’ Ottilie said, thinking also of all the other things she could and should be doing which would now have to wait. ‘If you want one.’
‘If it’s not too much trouble.’
‘No trouble at all for you. Come and sit in the kitchen. I’ve got some leftover chicken if you want a sandwich with it.’
‘I wouldn’t want your chicken to go to waste, so if you’re offering…’
Ottilie smiled to herself as she went to the kettle and filled it. She looked round to see Flo had already taken her coat off and was getting comfortable at the table, but her head was cocked to one side like a dog, clearly trying to listen for noises on the floor above.
‘Oh dear,’ Ottilie said, giving her a look of overplayed sympathy, ‘do you have a stiff neck? It looks like it. I’m sure I have some rub or something in my first aid box if you?—’
‘Oh, no…’ Flo straightened up, and Ottilie tried not to laugh. ‘Is Heath coming over today?’
‘Later,’ Ottilie said. ‘Have dinner with us if you like.’
‘You mean tea?’
‘Well, yes, whatever.’
‘What are you having?’
‘Curry, I think.’
‘No thank you then. I’m out of charcoal tablets.’
Ottilie frowned. ‘What?’
‘Charcoal. You know.’
‘I don’t think I do.’
‘But you’re a nurse!’
‘I know, but you’ve still lost me. Charcoal tablets? What’s that got to do with curry?’
‘They stop you having wind!’ Flo tutted. ‘I thought you’d have known that.’
Ottilie shook her head. ‘Never heard of that. Does it work?’
‘Why do you think I buy them?’
Ottilie decided she’d had quite enough of that conversation. For one, she had no desire to go into any more detail about the effects curry might or might not have on Flo’s digestive system. She wondered vaguely where on earth Flo bought charcoal tablets, but that was another line of questioning that was probably best left alone.
‘Can you have something else tonight?’ Flo asked.
‘I don’t know. Heath is bringing some food, so it depends on what he buys.’
‘I’ll phone him,’ Flo said, primly folding her hands in her lap. ‘I’ll tell him to get some sausages. Do you have any of those pies left in your freezer?’
‘Afraid not.’
‘Sausages will do then.’
‘Right.’ Ottilie had no clue if Fion would like sausages for dinner, but it looked as if she was getting them anyway.
‘How long is she going to be?’
‘Who?’
‘Your sister.’
‘I don’t know. You haven’t had your sandwich yet, so there’s no rush, is there?’
‘I’ve got to get my papers.’
Ottilie glanced at the clock. They had ages until the newsagent closed, but she decided not to bring that up either. Talking with Flo was like that – lots of half-finished conversations where reaching any kind of conclusion would take so much mental energy that it was easier not to bother. Instead, she went to the fridge to get the leftover chicken and some salad.
‘Not too much butter,’ Flo said.
‘OK. Do you want mayonnaise?’
‘Salad cream if you have it.’
Ottilie went back to the fridge. They had a bottle of that they kept especially for Flo, and she got it out and put it on the table. ‘You can pour it – I always put too much on.’
As she waited for the kettle to boil, Ottilie cut the chicken for the sandwich, and when she turned back to say something else to Flo, the old lady had her head angled at the ceiling once again, as if listening. ‘You really ought to let me look at your neck,’ she said wryly.
‘What?’
The kettle boiled, and Ottilie made Flo a drink.
‘Aren’t you having one?’ Flo asked as Ottilie put it in front of her.
‘I’ve not long had one.’
‘Oh. So I’ll be sitting here slurping and eating, and you’re going to sit there watching me?’
‘More or less,’ Ottilie said.
‘I’ll feel guilty.’
Ottilie suspected she wouldn’t feel a bit guilty, but it was another of those observations best kept to herself. She finished making Flo’s sandwich and gave it to her before going to the door.
‘I’ll see how Fion is getting on. I won’t be a second.’
She left Flo tucking into her sandwich and went to the stairs. Fion was already on her way down.
‘Flo is in the kitchen,’ Ottilie said in a low voice. ‘You’re about to have the interesting honour of meeting her.’
‘Heath’s grandma?’
Ottilie nodded, and Fion took a deep breath.
As they went into the kitchen, Flo put her sandwich down and wiped her hands on her skirt. ‘Ah.’
‘Hello,’ Fion said.
‘Hello.’
‘I won’t bother with introductions,’ Ottilie said. ‘I don’t think there’s a need.’
‘Fion?’ Flo sniffed with an obvious look up and down. ‘Short for Fiona, is it?’
‘No, it’s just Fion.’
‘Flo is short for Florence. I don’t like Florence, so don’t call me that. Are you having a sandwich?’
Fion shot a questioning glance at Ottilie. ‘I don’t think…’
‘We were meant to be going up to Daffodil Farm,’ Ottilie said to Flo. And then she turned to Fion. ‘But it looks as if we’re not going anywhere just yet, so if you’re hungry, we’ve got time for you to eat.’
‘I, um…’ Fion sat at the table. ‘I suppose so.’
Ottilie went to the counter, but then Fion got up again. ‘I can do it,’ she said.
Ottilie almost argued but then understood that Fion wanted to make her own sandwich, and if she was going to settle in as part of the household rather than a temporary guest, it was better that she felt she wasn’t being waited on as a guest would be. So she stepped away and took a seat at the table.
‘Do you want one?’ Fion asked.
‘I’m fine; I had something before I picked you up.’
‘But that was ages ago.’
‘She’s like this,’ Flo said, looking with some disapproval at Ottilie. ‘She’ll waste away.’
‘I don’t think that’s likely,’ Ottilie said with a chuckle. ‘Anyway, when we get up to Daffodil Farm, I’m sure Corrine will make up for my lack of a sandwich with her cake.’
‘Could you get some of those pies for me?’ Flo asked.
‘I can ask,’ Ottilie said. ‘I’m not sure if Damien is making them all the time just yet – the ones you had before were samples for testing.’
‘Did you enjoy them?’ Fion twisted from buttering her bread to smile at Flo, who simply shrugged and picked up her own sandwich again.
‘They were all right. Handy to have in and heat up when I don’t feel like cooking.’
‘I’ll tell Damien you thought they were very tasty,’ Ottilie said. ‘Does that mean if Magnus and Geoff stock them, you might buy some?’
‘Depends how much they cost. Prices of things now are ridiculous. What time will Heath get here?’
‘Not sure yet,’ Ottilie said. ‘Do you need me to phone and ask?’
‘No,’ Flo said. ‘I’m sure I’ll see the car when he’s here.’
‘I’m sure you will,’ Ottilie replied, shooting a glance at the clock and resigning herself to the fact that the day’s schedule was now well and truly out of the window no matter what time anyone had planned anything for.
Fion had been living at Wordsworth Cottage a matter of hours and already Ottilie could see what a juggling act her life was going to be for the foreseeable future. She’d expected it to take time for everyone to get used to the new household, but she hadn’t reckoned on how quickly the teething problems would reveal themselves.
The trip to Daffodil Farm had been pleasant enough – Corrine had made a fuss of them as she always did, and shortly after they’d arrived, Damien came with good news about some work for Fion the following week. He’d warned it would be bitty and he was in the dark about the early process of setting up the business almost as much as Fion would be, but if she was willing to be patient, then so was he. Fion was thrilled, and as they sat and worked out hours and pay, Ottilie had gone with Victor to see the alpaca while Corrine went to watch a television programme she’d wanted to see. Once again, Ottilie thought it was odd that Damien wasn’t conducting his business at his own house, but she supposed that as they were already settled in the kitchen of Daffodil Farm, there hadn’t been much point in moving.
While she was at the pen making a fuss of Victor’s girls, Heath had messaged to say he was on his way to Thimblebury, and so she’d headed back home, leaving Fion to be brought down by Victor or Damien later when they’d finished their discussions.
Ottilie and Heath were currently in the pub they often went to, just outside the village. It hadn’t been the plan for that evening, but shortly after he’d arrived, Flo had come back to eat with them, Fion returning in the middle of their meal, and all the while Ottilie could see that Heath had wanted to talk to her about more private things, things that had happened to him that day, things that were bothering him, or simply things that were for their ears only. Instead, with a house full, he was forced to make small talk and listen to everyone else’s news.
He’d been patient, and he’d done his best to be courteous, but Ottilie could tell he was finding it frustrating. And so, as they’d seen Flo home and then cleared the kitchen, she’d suggested they take a drive out somewhere, leaving Fion to finish organising her bedroom. Heath had jumped at it, and so here they were forty minutes later, with two shandies on the table in front of them. Already Heath was more relaxed, but Ottilie could foresee a time when he might feel resentment that they had to vacate the house just to get some alone time.
The pub was a favourite haunt. Ottilie had always liked the stone walls of the snug and the solid wooden tables. It felt cosy, the ambient orange glow of the lamps dotted around making it feel warm and inviting too.
‘I’m sorry tonight’s been a bit hectic,’ she said.
‘I’ve told you it’s all right.’
‘I don’t feel you mean that.’
He reached for his glass. ‘I do. I can’t say the situation is ideal for us as a couple, but I promised to support your decision and I will. Let’s not talk about that now. I wanted to talk to you about something else.’
Ottilie nodded, her instincts from earlier confirmed. He’d had something on his mind that he hadn’t felt able to discuss with Fion and his gran there. ‘OK.’
‘It’s work. It’s funny, I thought they’d be a bit put out about the fact I want to start working remotely so I can move to Thimblebury, but a weird thing happened today. I was offered a promotion.’
Ottilie smiled. ‘But that’s brilliant! How would it work? Are you going to take it?’
‘That’s just it – I will have to be on site more than we were planning after the move. I might have to travel too. But it’s a heck of a pay rise.’
‘Travel?’ Ottilie tried not to frown. She wanted to be pleased for him – she wanted him to know she was pleased and proud and that she’d support his decisions the way he was supporting hers. ‘How often?’
‘Once every couple of months for about a week or so at a time. They want me to help set up a new office in Germany and then have a hand in its management. Liaise regularly with their onsite management team, that sort of thing, and they think the best way to keep good working relations is to have regular in-person contact. I happen to agree, but I’m not sure about all that time away from you.’
‘It’s not so bad, I suppose. We’d get used to it.’
He placed a gentle finger to tilt her chin up and studied her. ‘I’m not going to do anything that makes you unhappy. I can’t deny I think I want the job, but not if it affects us.’
‘It wouldn’t,’ Ottilie said.
‘It would also mean more commuting – which is what we’d said we wanted to reduce when we first mooted the idea of me working from Wordsworth Cottage.’
‘I suppose,’ Ottilie said slowly, ‘while Fion is with us it might not be a bad thing. She’s got the room that was going to be your office, after all.’
‘Yes,’ he said, and in his tone she thought she detected just the tiniest hint of the resentment she’d feared. If it was there, she appreciated that he was doing his best to keep a lid on it for her sake. The life they’d been planning had been put on hold, after all. ‘And I’m wondering whether I ought to keep hold of my place in Manchester for days when I finish late and it’s easier to stay over.’
‘But we were going to use the money from the sale for the wedding.’
‘I know that, but things have changed since we made that plan. If I’m earning a lot more,’ he continued thoughtfully, ‘perhaps it would pay for a little flat there or something. A bolthole, you know?’
‘Seems a bit of an unnecessary expense to me. Isn’t there someone in Manchester who doesn’t mind you staying over with them if you need to?’
‘Depends how often it will be. I don’t want to take advantage.’
Ottilie nodded. She understood that only too well – she’d have felt the same. This development complicated things, but how could she forbid him to take the opportunity that was being offered?
‘The MD has told me to come and talk to you and take some time to consider,’ he continued.
‘How long?’
‘A couple of weeks. I suppose it could be more if I needed it, but I’d hate to keep him waiting too long, especially if it’s going to be a no – that would piss him right off.’
‘Do you think it will have any bearing on our wedding plans? I mean, we could go for a longer engagement if we needed to – I wouldn’t mind. There’s no rush, is there?’
‘Anyone would think you don’t want to marry me,’ he said with a faint smile.
‘More than anything, but I’m also trying to avoid creating more stress for you than is necessary. For either of us, for that matter. Life isn’t as calm as it was when we first started to plan it – I don’t think it would be all that bad an idea to give ourselves some breathing space for things to settle before we get on with a big event like that.’
‘I don’t want to put it off. Unless you absolutely do. I want us to be married. I don’t even know if me taking this job is the best thing for us yet – that’s why I wanted to get your take on the offer. And I want you to be honest with me. Don’t just say what you think I want to hear. If you’re not happy with me doing it, then I won’t.’
‘How could I say such a thing?’
‘That alone tells me you have doubts.’
‘Of course I have doubts – there’s no point in lying about that. But what kind of girlfriend would I be if I stood in the way of your career?’
‘Talk to me about your doubts.’
‘I don’t want to because they’re probably silly. You know how cautious I am in just about everything. Any doubts I have come from my annoying nature, not you.’
‘You could never be annoying, and I’d rather you talk to me.’
‘It’s only that I worry it will be a mistake for you to move to Thimblebury after all because it will make life a lot harder work if you’re doing this new demanding role that needs you to be on site more often. And I worry we’ll end up seeing less of one another than we do now.’
‘I would never let that happen.’
‘You might not have a choice. If the job demands it, you’ll feel obliged to be there. I know what that’s like – it’s how things were at the hospital. It’s only since I came to Thimblebury and started at the surgery I have any kind of work-life balance at all. But I wasn’t going to say that to you because I don’t want it to influence your decision.’
He nodded, deep in thought as he reached for his pint. ‘I know,’ he said finally. ‘I’ll have to give it some thought.’
‘What’s your gut telling you?’
‘That’s just it.’ He looked over the rim of his glass with a droll expression. ‘Even my gut can’t decide. I’m flattered by the offer, and I think the pay rise would be amazing, but the thought of all that time away from you…I wonder if it will be exhausting to be travelling so much, and I might soon get sick of it. I suppose the only real way of knowing if it’s going to be the right thing or not is to do it. But once I do it, it will be difficult to get out of without basically ruining all my future career prospects. If the MD thinks I’m unreliable and prone to changing my mind…’ He shrugged, and Ottilie nodded.
‘Whatever you decide, you know I’ll back you up.’
‘At least you’d have Fion with you,’ he said. ‘That would make me feel better about being away from home when I have to travel.’
Despite her fondness for Fion, Ottilie would rather have had Heath. But she didn’t say so because she didn’t want to influence his decision-making process either way. The conclusion he came to had to be his because what she wanted had to take a back seat. This was his career, and only he could decide what to do with it.