Chapter Sixteen
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
It was raining again. Ottilie had left Fion in bed and headed up to Hilltop Farm for her daily call to check on Darryl, and then down to Thimblebury surgery to start her official working day. Fion had a later start with Damien, where they were going to work out some production systems together, but he was going to collect her from Wordsworth Cottage. She’d been so jittery the night before that Ottilie guessed she hadn’t slept well, so when her own alarm had gone off and Fion hadn’t emerged from her room, she hadn’t worried. She supposed that their working days would overlap and clash at times, and it was just another thing they’d have to get used to.
The morning’s load for Ottilie had been straightforward enough, patients coming in and out of her treatment room with brisk regularity. Lunch was chicken soup made by Fliss, the bread and butter provided by Ottilie, with a pudding brought in by Simon and freshly squeezed orange juice provided by Lavender, shared, as always, between the four of them at the surgery’s kitchen table.
The afternoon promised to be as routine as the morning, until Ottilie opened her list and realised it had been overbooked by a considerable amount. Before seeing the first patient of the afternoon session, she dashed through to the reception to talk to Lavender about it.
‘I told you not to take the safeguards off,’ Lavender said. ‘The system is supposed to flag up when the session is full, but you will insist on disabling it to fit your sneaky extras on. And then I forget to enable it, and then we’re both booking people in at the same time and this is where it gets us.’
‘Sorry.’ Ottilie offered a sheepish and apologetic smile. ‘I’m usually more careful.’
Lavender pulled up the clinic list and displayed it on her computer screen so they could both study it. ‘A lot on your mind, I suppose. This once I’ll let you off, but I don’t know what we’re going to do with all these people.’
‘I could ring round to see if any of them can come another time.’
Lavender glanced at the clock. ‘It’s probably a bit late for most of them; they’ll be on the way in.’
‘My fault again – I should have checked the numbers this morning, but…’ She shrugged. ‘I suppose I could try to see them. Clinic would overrun, of course, but it can’t be helped.’
‘You’d be here until midnight trying to see this lot.’ Lavender shook her head. ‘Leave it with me. I’ll see how many I can catch and get them to come later in the week. It will mean rejigging some of your other clinics too, though.’
‘Lavender, you’re a star. I don’t know what I’d do without you.’
As they began to discuss who they might be able to put off, the door to the surgery opened and Melanie walked in. She seemed anxious as she approached the desk.
Lavender nudged Ottilie. ‘You can leave the list with me and see your next patient if you like. I’ll do it in between reception stuff.’
Ottilie thanked her and then nodded briefly to acknowledge Melanie. She didn’t ask how she was because, in her line of work in her current environment, it could prove to be a loaded question. Ordinarily, when out and about it was a courtesy. Here it could lead to an unasked-for life story and an impromptu and badly timed request for a diagnosis.
As Ottilie left the reception, she could hear Melanie ask for a prescription that was waiting for her to pick up. She sounded as anxious as she looked. It was funny, Ottilie hadn’t been aware of Fliss or Simon seeing her in their clinics for anything, let alone prescribing. But she supposed they didn’t tell her everything that went on, and she was often too busy to notice without someone pointing it out. But she was so distracted by her uncharacteristic curiosity that she almost forgot to call her first patient through and had to go back out to the reception to get them. When she got there, Melanie was leaving.
‘What is it this time?’ Lavender asked as she raised her eyes to the heavens.
‘Forgot Mr Bond, didn’t I?’ Ottilie grinned, waving the old man over.
‘I think you might need a holiday,’ Lavender said.
‘I think you might be right!’
Clinic did overrun, despite Lavender’s efforts to move the excess patients, and when Ottilie arrived home, Fion had already done her day’s work and was cooking. The kitchen was a mess, with potato peelings and discarded cartons littering the draining board, but Ottilie bit her tongue.
‘What are you making?’
‘Cottage pie.’
‘I’d have thought you’d be sick of pies after today,’ Ottilie said, putting her bag on the chair and taking off her coat.
Fion smiled. ‘I didn’t eat any today. We mostly just talked about how we were going to set up the kitchen and protocols and stuff.’
‘Protocols?’
‘Like rules for how we’re going to do things.’
‘Yes, I know protocols; we have them in the health service. I just didn’t think you had them to make pies.’
‘Well, you know, we have to order things. Like how long the meat’s going to be in for one thing in one pan and then what that means for making other stuff. So we’re putting charts together and sizing up ingredient lists and that sort of thing.’
‘Sounds complicated.’
‘It’s really interesting.’
Ottilie raised her eyebrows as she stole a slice of raw carrot from the chopping board where Fion was working.
Fion laughed at her expression. ‘It sounds boring, but honestly it wasn’t. How was your day?’
‘Busy.’
‘Anyway, Damien gave me some minced beef and you already had potatoes in, so I thought I’d make a start on tea. You did say you hadn’t got anything planned, didn’t you? Is Heath coming?’
‘That was nice of Damien. Heath’s not coming over tonight – he’s got some works do on. Someone retiring or something.’
‘You didn’t want to go?’
‘Not especially. I don’t know any of them. And I’m shattered, so I’m glad I don’t have to go over to Manchester tonight. I’m happy with a quiet bite here with you.’
‘Damien’s wife was around a bit today too.’ Fion went back to her chopping. ‘I don’t know why, but I don’t think she likes me much.’
‘I don’t think she’s in the best of places right now,’ Ottilie replied, instantly regretting her words as Fion’s head snapped up.
‘What’s wrong with her?’
‘Nothing,’ Ottilie said. ‘Forget it.’
‘OK,’ Fion said, but Ottilie could tell that she was far from forgetting it. ‘I suppose you saw her at the surgery and you’re not allowed to tell anyone anything about it. She had a prescription in her hand when she came in, so…’
Ottilie went to the kettle without replying.
‘I’ll make tea for you,’ Fion said. ‘Or do you want coffee? Go and have a shower or a sit-down if you like. I’ll shout you when it’s ready.’
‘I can?—’
‘I want to. It’s my way of thanking you. Please, let me do things around the place. So far you’ve looked after me and I haven’t lifted a finger.’
‘You’ve worked today too.’
‘Yes, but it hasn’t been as hard as yours, and to be honest we spent quite a lot of it having drinks and talking.’
‘Sounds lovely. Maybe I should get a job with Damien.’
‘He’s so nice,’ Fion said with such earnestness that Ottilie almost had to do a double take. ‘I’m so lucky to have the job. He’s made me feel as if I’m helping to invent the company. Sounds silly, doesn’t it? But it’s sort of exciting to be there at the start.’ She was thoughtful for a moment as she scooped the chunks of carrot into a pan on the stove. ‘It’s weird how Melanie doesn’t seem to care about it. You’d think she’d want to be involved, but whenever she comes in and Damien says something to her about it, you can tell she doesn’t want to hear it. She pulls her face or changes the subject.’
Ottilie recalled how distracted Melanie had been earlier that day in the surgery. It was difficult to deny something was going on with her – perhaps a problem with her marriage – but it was none of her business. Unless either of them specifically brought it up to her, and even then it was probably wise to stay out of it. Knowing that and dismissing her curiosity, however, were two very different things.
She couldn’t deny she was also concerned about Fion getting too involved. It already seemed to Ottilie that her sister was becoming embroiled in a situation that was nothing to do with her, simply by spending her days in the middle of it. She was beginning to wish she hadn’t helped engineer this job opportunity for her.
‘I wonder if Magnus has made up his mind about going to see his family in Iceland yet,’ she said.
Fion took the kettle to the sink. ‘I don’t know if I could cover for him now. I think I might have too much to do with Damien. I’m not going to remind Magnus, I’ll wait to see what happens. Maybe he doesn’t want me after all.’
Ottilie didn’t like Fion’s plan, but she didn’t see how she could say so without seeming unreasonable. Fion was right – Magnus hadn’t mentioned taking time off and having Fion look after the shop since they’d first thrown the idea around, and for all they knew he and Geoff had decided against it. In a way, the onus was on them to come and ask if they wanted her to work, and they knew she had a job with Damien now, so the matter wasn’t as straightforward as it had been.
‘So you don’t want me to have a word with them?’ she asked.
Fion turned to her. ‘I don’t think you should have to keep fixing things for me. I could speak to them; I just don’t see any point. If they wanted me, they’d ask. They haven’t asked and so they must not, and as I now have work, I don’t see why I should chase them.’
That summary seemed a bit on the harsh side to Ottilie, but she couldn’t argue with the logic. And so she simply nodded, and Fion hummed softly as she got on with cooking their meal.
While Fion had settled into life in Thimblebury during the four weeks since her arrival, Ottilie couldn’t say it had been plain sailing. She’d enjoyed having her half-sister at Wordsworth Cottage and she’d loved getting to know her, but keeping her, Heath, Flo and just about everyone else who had an opinion on Fion’s presence happy was proving to be something of a juggling act. Heath was doing his best to be patient, and when he wasn’t feeling it, he tried to hide it for Ottilie’s sake. But if Flo was in the room and spotted the tiniest darkening of his mood, she wasn’t afraid to call it out and pontificate on the reason – usually something to do with Fion – whether Fion herself was there or not.
As for Thimblebury itself, the yearly ritual of hikers appearing on the hills had begun, which meant summer had properly arrived and brought with it the tourists. The closest they had to a tourist trade was the odd one of those hikers finding themselves in the village because they were lost, occasionally taking advantage of the meagre facilities to refresh and regroup before moving on to more famous landmarks.
Magnus and Geoff had taken advantage by installing a coffee machine in their shop – which had caused some hilarity among the older residents of the village – along with a pair of wooden benches outside so anyone who wanted to take a load off while they drank their machine coffee could do so. And Victor was now walking the hills for hours every day himself with his alpaca, and snaking lines of children and parents leading each one could be seen from the village below. When Corrine had time, she’d help him maintain order, sometimes Melanie or Penny would do it, and now, when everyone else was busy, Fion had been only too happy to step in and lend a hand. The first time Victor had come to Damien’s barn to see if anyone was available, she’d leaped at the chance, and Damien had sounded only too happy to let her go. From what Fion had told Ottilie, he was turning out to be a flexible and considerate employer, and Fion appeared to be very happy working with him – some mornings even excited to go up there.
‘I wish I could feel like that about work,’ Ottilie said one bright morning as she prepared for her trek up to Hilltop to check on Darryl and Ann.
‘Don’t you love your job?’ Fion buttered toast at the table. ‘It always seems like you do.’
‘I do, but I also love days off. When you have a day off, you’re miserable as sin.’
‘I’m not!’ Fion gave a self-conscious laugh. ‘It’s all new and the business is getting going, and it’s exciting to be a part of that. It almost feels like my business. That sounds daft, doesn’t it?’
‘No. But remember it’s not, so don’t wear yourself out because you’ll get paid just the same in the end.’
‘I don’t.’
‘You fell asleep on the sofa as soon as you got in last night.’
‘It’s all that fresh air up on the farm. And I went out with Victor and the girls for a couple of hours too.’
‘Hmm…’ Ottilie looked unconvinced as she pulled on a light jacket, more to keep her uniform clean than because she needed one. A glance out of the window promised a day that might be the hottest of that year so far. ‘Heath’s coming over tonight, by the way.’
‘That’s all right. I might be out anyway.’
‘Out?’
Fion nodded as she put the lid back on the butter dish. ‘I’m going for a drink in Kendal.’
‘Kendal? Oh. Who with?’
‘Just…’ It wasn’t the name that caused alarm in Ottilie when Fion said it, more the pause, heavy with forced casualness that came before it. ‘Damien’s taking me. He’s going to let me drive there for some practice, and then he’s buying me a drink to say thank you for all my hard work. We did ask Melanie,’ she added, rather too hastily for Ottilie’s liking. She’d heard evasion before, and the information Fion was providing reeked of it. It wasn’t what Fion was telling her but what she wasn’t that might be a problem.
‘Melanie’s going then?’
‘I don’t know.’
Ottilie studied Fion carefully as she cut her toast into triangles. Over the weeks, though she’d tried to deny it, she’d noticed every conversation about Damien had Fion speaking of him in tones that were warmer, fonder, perhaps, than they ought to be for a man who was her boss. A married man who was her boss. She’d thought about issuing a warning, but she wanted to believe that Fion didn’t need one, that she had enough sense of her own to keep away from a situation that might end messily for everyone. Was this the time for that warning?
‘Is she around a lot?’ Ottilie asked.
Fion looked up, toast halfway to her mouth. ‘Who?’
‘Melanie. Is she around much when you’re up there?’
‘She’s in the house mostly, so I don’t see her unless she wants something and comes to the barn, or I need to go to the house to get some bits. She doesn’t bother all that much with the business. Damien says she has work of her own – she books trips or tours for walkers or something. He says she says she had enough of getting her hands dirty on a farm growing up so she doesn’t want to be elbow-deep in pie filling all day. What time will Heath be here? Do you think I’ll see him before I go?’
‘I don’t know. What time are you going?’
‘Damien says he’ll pick me up at seven thirty.’
‘He’s going to pick you up? From here?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you think that’s a good idea? Especially if Melanie isn’t in the car with him?’
‘Why not?’
‘This is Thimblebury!’ Ottilie said, aware that her voice was rising but struggling to contain it. ‘What if someone sees you?’
‘We’re not doing anything wrong.’
Ottilie folded her arms tight across her chest. ‘That’s not how it’s going to look. You know what people are like around here – they don’t need any excuse to turn the most innocent thing into gossip.’
‘They can gossip all they want. Damien and me will know it’s not true and we’re not doing anything wrong, and that’s all that matters.’
‘If you say so.’ Ottilie shook her head as she studied Fion. The timid girl who’d arrived at Wordsworth Cottage a month before wasn’t sitting at her table now. This girl had unmistakable traits of Conrad, the dad they shared, a man with the sort of arrogance and disregard Ottilie had seen during their brief meeting and hadn’t cared for at all. ‘I’m only saying don’t underestimate how miserable some of these people can make your lives if they get the bit between their teeth.’
‘They can try; I won’t take any notice.’
She wanted to say more, but Ottilie could tell that it wouldn’t make any difference. Fion had made up her mind. In a way, she was right too – it was hard to argue the logic. If they were only going for a friendly drink, two colleagues getting to know one another outside work, there was no harm in it. The village gossips might whisper about it, but there’d be no truth and nothing for Fion or Damien to feel guilty about.
‘I’m going to call at Stacey’s on the way home,’ she said instead. ‘See how Chloe’s doing.’
‘Has she stopped being sick?’
‘I don’t think so. I’m sure it’s miserable, but she’s an old hand at this now – it’s her second, after all. I’ll pop my head in and see if they need me anyway. So I was going to say I might be in late to cook, but if you’re going to a pub, I’m assuming you’ll eat there?’
‘The pub we’re going to has started to serve our pies,’ Fion said.
‘I’d have thought you’d be sick of the sight of those,’ Ottilie replied, checking her phone before dropping it into her satchel.
‘I suppose we might have something else,’ Fion said. ‘But it feels like cheating on our business to do that. It’ll be nice to see them on the menu.’
Our business ? Ottilie resisted the urge to remind Fion that it wasn’t hers at all. ‘That’s fine then,’ she said. ‘If you’re not going to be with us, Heath and I might have something quick and go out for a walk or something.’
‘You could come and meet us at the pub.’
Ottilie suspected that Heath, even if he didn’t say it, had seen quite enough of Fion the past few weeks. His initial fears had been confirmed – whenever they’d felt like being intimate, they were reminded, by a sound or an actual appearance, that Fion was in the house. When they’d needed to discuss something private, she’d come into the room. When they’d wanted to watch something on television, she’d sat with them and dropped passive-aggressive hints that she was watching this programme with them but really wanted to see something on another channel. It was all minor stuff in the grand scheme of things, but these small incidents were snowballing into what Ottilie feared might turn into constant irritation, the sort of state that would eventually lead to him actively disliking her half-sister.
‘That’s all right,’ she said, hoisting her satchel onto her shoulder. ‘We don’t want to muscle in on your work thing. We’ll probably have a quiet one here doing something or other. We’ve still got things to sort out for the wedding now we’ve set a date. It’ll probably be a boring night looking at caterers or something – you’ll be glad you’re out.’
Fion gave a vague nod before going back to her toast. Ottilie left the house feeling uneasy and not really able to pinpoint why – it was more a general bad feeling about things that might be waiting somewhere down the line. But she had work to do, and there was no point worrying about what might never happen. So she put Fion out of her mind and headed to the hills.
Ottilie lay on Heath’s chest, his steady heartbeat in her ears. He was propped up on his pillows, a thumb idly stroking tiny circles over her shoulder. The day had been warm, and through the open bedroom window came the first hoot of an owl they heard often, beginning a night of hunting. The odd moth bumped against the glass and there was one chasing the light of the floor lamp. It wasn’t bothering Ottilie, but Heath had promised to put it out before they went to sleep. Other than that, the village was quiet. The tourists were in hotels or guesthouses or chalets in the more famous towns, and Thimblebury was once again, for the night-time at least, a small inconsequential village in the middle of nowhere. Though she never minded the summer visitors, that was always the way Ottilie liked it best. Her home: calm, tranquil, where life was at a pace so slow it was hard to get stressed.
Then again, at that moment, though she wasn’t exactly stressed, she was preoccupied with things beyond their life in the village.
‘The MD is happy at least,’ Heath said. ‘Obviously it was my choice whether to take the job or not, but I think he’d have been a bit annoyed if I’d turned it down. I’m guessing I’d figured in some grand management plan somewhere and I would have messed it up if I’d said no. They’d probably have never given me another opportunity either.’
‘I’m sure they would have done – you work hard.’
‘But you don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, do you? I suppose it might have looked ungrateful to some.’
‘Now that you have more details, are you still glad you took it?’
‘It’s never been about me. I’d always take it because it furthers my career. It’s how you’re affected – that’s always been my only concern.’
‘I’ll be fine.’
‘You’re just saying that?’
‘No. I’d love for you not to have to go away so often, but we’ll get used to it. And…’ She trailed a finger up his chest and twisted to look up at him with a cheeky smile. ‘You know what they say about absence making the heart grow fonder.’
‘Remind me,’ he said, sliding down the pillow and pulling her into his arms.
They relaxed into a lazy kiss, and then the sound of the front door slamming took Ottilie out of it.
Heath let out a groan. ‘Perfect timing. It’s like having a teenager.’
‘I wouldn’t know.’ Ottilie threw back the covers and sat up.
Heath propped himself up on an elbow and frowned. ‘Where are you going?’
‘To see how she got on at the pub…’ She glanced at the bedside clock. ‘They must have stayed until well after last orders.’
‘What does that matter?’
Ottilie gave a vague shrug. ‘It’s later than I expected. I want to see if…well, something might have happened.’
‘Something was about to happen here,’ Heath grumbled, flipping over to face the wall. ‘I suppose I might as well go to sleep.’
‘We both ought to have been asleep before now.’ Ottilie poked her feet into a pair of slippers. ‘We’ve both got early starts tomorrow.’
‘Yeah,’ Heath said, sarcasm dripping from his tone, ‘living the rock-and-roll lifestyle.’
She found Fion in the kitchen, at the table with a glass of water in front of her, typing on her phone.
‘Good night?’ she asked from the doorway.
Fion looked up and smiled. It seemed bright, but there was also something in it that was forced and anxious. ‘Yes. You?’
‘The usual. So you stayed for last orders?’
Fion went back to her messaging. ‘Uh-huh.’
‘You went somewhere after?’
‘No.’
‘But it’s a lot later than I thought?—’
‘Well, we stopped to look at the moon.’
‘What?’
Fion glanced up from her phone again. ‘It looked massive over the hills. Did you see it?’
‘Not really.’
It was an odd thing to do. At least Ottilie thought so. Romantic. Not the sort of thing she’d do with her boss, no matter how well they got along. She waited for more, but Fion simply locked her phone and stood up.
‘I think I’ll go to bed. I thought you’d be asleep by now.’
‘We were just about to turn the lights out when we heard you come in.’
‘Oh, good. As long as I didn’t wake you.’ She went over and gave Ottilie a peck on the cheek. ‘We’re starting work late tomorrow, so I probably won’t be up when you are for breakfast. Don’t worry – I can fend for myself. I’ll make sure to stack the dishwasher before I go out.’
Ottilie watched her as she sidled past and took the stairs. Something was up. Ottilie wondered if she ought to try and get to the bottom of it. She wondered if she even wanted to. Whatever it was, it looked as if she wasn’t going to get anything more from Fion tonight. With a last cursory check of the kitchen, she sighed deeply, turned out the light and headed back upstairs.