Chapter Eighteen
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
‘What happened to you?’
Fliss peered at Ottilie as she walked into the surgery’s reception the following morning.
‘Huh? Oh, bad night. A bit tired. You don’t mind if I skip lunch in the kitchen with you today?’
‘I made chickpea curry.’
‘I know; I’m sorry. I’ve got some things I need to see to.’
‘Everything’s all right, isn’t it?’ Fliss asked, her tone far more serious now.
‘Yes. I think so.’
Ottilie wasn’t foolish enough to think that Fion and Damien’s affair would stay secret for long, but it wasn’t her job to break the news to anyone, not even Fliss, who would be as practical and stoic about it as anyone could be.
‘Because if you need some time off for something?—’
‘I don’t. Thank you, but it’s really fine. It’s full clinics all week anyway, and it would only cause problems further down the line if I had to cancel today’s and try to fit everyone in another day.’
‘Well,’ Fliss replied, seeming satisfied, ‘you know where I am if you need me. If you change your mind or you simply need to talk, my door is always open. Don’t forget that.’
‘I know. Thank you.’
As Fliss went back to her room and Ottilie turned to go to her own, Simon arrived. She could hear him bidding Lavender a good morning. As he left the reception area and came into the hallway where Fliss had just left her, he noticed Ottilie and gave her a cheery wave. But then he stopped and stared.
‘You look exhausted,’ Simon said.
‘I’m all right – didn’t sleep very well.’
‘Things on your mind?’
‘Yes, but too much to go into right now.’
‘It’s fine.’ Simon said. ‘Tell me about it at lunch if you like.’
‘Sorry, I won’t be staying for lunch.’
‘That’s a shame. I’ve got one or two things to get off my chest.’
‘Oh? Do you need me to listen now?’
‘No,’ he said with a light laugh. ‘It’s only grumbling about Chloe and her mood swings. I never knew a pregnant woman could be so disruptive.’
‘Right,’ Ottilie said. ‘Sorry. Another time.’
‘Another time.’ He started to walk to his room but then turned back. ‘You’re OK? Nothing you want to tell me about?’
‘I’m fine. Thanks, Simon.’
‘Right. So I’ll see you at some point today, just not at lunch. More curry for me then.’
Ottilie forced a tired smile and went to her room. She switched on the computer and then logged into her clinic list. First patient was the notorious Mrs Icke. Then Flo for a blood pressure check. Ottilie laid her head in her hands and closed her eyes for a moment. Wasn’t it Sod’s Law she’d get the people who were the hardest work when she was at her lowest ebb?
Ottilie was halfway through one of Lavender’s ‘two-scoop specials’ by the time Flo had arrived. It was a coffee Lavender always made when anyone was in need of a pick-me-up, and it had definitely done the job. Ottilie was sure she could run on caffeine for the next week if she needed to.
‘How are you?’ she asked Flo as she led her back to the treatment room.
‘Same as ever,’ Flo replied. ‘What were you up to last night?’
Ottilie gestured for Flo to take a seat and shut the door. ‘Oh, you know, the usual. Why?’
‘Why was there so much noise coming from your place?’
Ottilie frowned. How could Flo have heard anything from where she was? There was no way her house was close enough to Wordsworth Cottage for that to be the case. And though Melanie had knocked loudly and had raised her voice, it surely hadn’t been that bad? ‘Noise? What noise?’
‘I don’t know. Magnus told me this morning something had been going on.’
‘He did? Nothing was going on.’
‘Then what was Melanie Tate doing there?’
Ottilie got the blood pressure reader out of the cupboard. ‘Roll up your sleeve for me.’
‘Something to do with Fion?’ Flo asked.
‘Your sleeve,’ Ottilie repeated with as much patience as she could muster. ‘Please.’
‘It was, wasn’t it?’
‘You know I can’t talk about any of this now,’ Ottilie said. ‘I’m at work, and right now I’m your nurse. I’ve got a busy clinic, and I don’t have time to sit chatting about what might have happened at my house last night.’
‘That’s all right.’ Flo pulled up the sleeve of her cardigan and flopped her arm out for Ottilie. ‘I’ll call later for tea if that’s all right.’
‘Can you make it the day after? It’s film club tonight.’
‘I suppose I’ll have to. Will Heath be there?’
‘I don’t know yet.’
‘If he is, then I can see him too. What are you having? Not pie again, I hope.’
They might never eat another one of Damien’s pies, but Ottilie thought better of saying so, even in jest. ‘What would you like?’ she asked. ‘I could do toad in the hole. How does that sound?’
‘That’ll do,’ Flo said.
Ottilie undid the cuff and removed the monitor from Flo’s arm. ‘All good. No problems with taking your tablets?’
‘Melanie is moving in with Victor and Corrine at Daffodil Farm.’
Ottilie froze. ‘Is she?’ she asked carefully.
‘So I’ve heard.’
Ottilie wanted to ask who’d given out this news, but she realised that if she began this line of enquiry, then it would end up eating into her clinic schedule. It would have to wait. ‘Oh,’ she said, not knowing what else she could say at this point. ‘She must have her reasons I suppose.’
‘I’m sure she has,’ Flo said, and Ottilie suspected from the mischief in her expression that she knew more than she was letting on about that too.
‘You’re all done,’ Ottilie said. ‘I’ll pop a follow-up appointment in the post for you, if that’s OK.’
‘Toad in the hole, you say?’ Flo asked as she got up and put her coat on. ‘Peas, not broad beans. Can’t stand broad beans.’
‘Peas – got it. See you later then.’
‘What time?’
‘Come whenever you want as long as it’s after six,’ Ottilie said. It was pointless giving Flo a time because she wouldn’t stick to it anyway.
Flo marched out of the room and Ottilie let out a sigh. She opened the page with her clinic list and marked Flo as seen before typing a few notes on the appointment.
Despite her annoyance at Flo’s inopportune interrogation, she couldn’t help but wonder what had happened with Damien and Melanie since she and Heath had dropped her off the night before. She also wondered what Victor and Corrine were making of it all. She hoped they wouldn’t be too hard on Fion when the truth came out.
Ottilie dashed out of the surgery, closing and locking the front door behind her. The kitchen had smelled amazing as she passed on her way out, and she wished she’d been able to join her colleagues for their curry, but if she didn’t go up to Daffodil Farm now, she’d be dwelling on her worries all afternoon.
She couldn’t be certain that what Flo had told her about Melanie moving in with Corrine and Victor was correct, but it seemed a safe bet that there’d be some truth in it. As a temporary fix, perhaps to allow Damien and her some space, it seemed like the most sensible idea. If Ottilie had been in their situation, probably the thing she’d do too.
Jumping in her car and starting the engine, she wondered again if she ought to have phoned ahead to say she was coming. She’d considered it a few times during the morning but had decided against it because she didn’t want Corrine or Victor to put her off. They’d tell her all was well, not to worry, and there was the added awkwardness that she’d have to admit she’d heard about developments in gossip that was clearly already on its way around the village. She didn’t think Corrine or Victor would be happy about that, even if Melanie herself didn’t care. So she’d invented another reason for going and would see how the atmosphere was when she got there. She also wondered if one of them would start a discussion for her. They’d know by now, presumably, about Melanie’s trip down to Wordsworth Cottage the previous night, and surely they’d have something to say about it.
The rain was heavier as she made her way further up the hill, the distant skies grey and grizzled with yet more. Ottilie passed a group of soggy walkers, hoods pulled tight around their faces, water dripping from the hems of their raincoats. There was mud on the lane, making it hard for the car, but there wasn’t time to park up and phone the farmhouse to see if Victor could come and get her. All in all, the view around her seemed to reflect her situation just perfectly: battered, grey, uncertain and difficult.
None of their current situation was her doing, and yet, as Ottilie pulled up outside Daffodil Farm, she was anxious. Victor and Corrine had been such good friends to her since she’d moved to Thimblebury that the thought of causing them strife – even indirectly – upset her. As she got out of the car, she could see Corrine at the kitchen window. Not looking out but head down. Probably doing something at the sink. But as Ottilie walked across the yard, she looked up. Where ordinarily she would have broken into a broad smile, today she barely had one at all. It didn’t help Ottilie to feel any better.
Before she’d knocked, Corrine had opened the door. ‘I wasn’t expecting to see you at this time of the day.’ She dried her hands on a teacloth and stepped back. ‘Come in.’
Ottilie stepped inside and closed the door behind her. Corrine was alone in the kitchen. ‘I won’t stay long,’ she said. ‘I just wanted to?—’
‘Melanie,’ Corrine said, taking all need of pretence right out of the conversation. It was the sort of practical approach that Ottilie should have expected from Corrine. Now that she thought about it, she wondered why she’d concocted any kind of ruse for her visit at all. ‘You want to know how she is and what’s happening between her and Damien. Ottilie, my love, I’m sorry you’ve been dragged into all this trouble.’
‘It’s not your fault,’ Ottilie said.
‘It’s not yours either.’
‘Some will say it is, I’m sure,’ Ottilie said ruefully.
‘They might – because they don’t know any better. You won’t hear it from me or Victor. You’ve been nothing but a good friend to our family.’
‘Maybe.’ Ottilie waited for Corrine to elaborate. She clearly knew some of what had passed between Melanie and Damien, but did she know the whole story? Fion’s involvement? How much did she know of that? Some, it would seem because she’d have worked out that Melanie had gone to Wordsworth Cottage for a reason. But Ottilie was afraid of making the situation worse by airing things that might have been better coming from someone else – or not being said at all.
‘We don’t blame your Fion,’ Corrine said. ‘But we do wish it had been someone else. It makes things difficult, doesn’t it? Between us all.’ Corrine let out a sigh as she flopped onto a chair at the table. ‘I don’t know what the fool was thinking. Starting… this . With the girl who was meant to be working for him. And so much younger too. It looks bad – nobody can deny it.’
‘What’s Melanie told you?’ Ottilie asked. She wondered whether to sit down. It was telling of Corrine’s state of mind that today there was no smell of cake coming from the oven, no offer of tea or sandwiches…Ottilie watched as she wiped her brow. She looked exhausted. Ottilie wondered if Melanie had turned up at theirs overnight, perhaps almost as soon as she’d sobered up enough to leave the house she shared with Damien. Her arrival might even have been his doing. Perhaps he’d persuaded her it was the best place for her to be while they decided what to do with their marriage.
‘Ottilie?’
They both turned to see Melanie herself at the doorway to the kitchen.
‘I know,’ she said as she went to the sink to get water. ‘I look like death. I feel like it too.’ She took a sip from her glass. ‘I’m sorry about last night, Ottilie. I shouldn’t have come to your place – I feel like a total idiot. I should say thanks for getting me home too.’
‘Are you feeling better?’ Ottilie asked.
‘Better in terms of my hangover or life in general? Actually, doesn’t matter. Whichever you’re asking about, the answer is no, I don’t feel better. I feel like shit about everything.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Ottilie said.
‘What for? You didn’t do anything.’
‘That’s not what…’ Ottilie flushed, realising that the next bit of her sentence was hardly going to help.
Melanie finished it for her. ‘That’s not what I said last night, huh? I can’t remember everything that I did and said last night, but I remember that. Listen, you can’t help what your sister does. I’ve got issues with her but not with you.’
‘She didn’t set out to make any of this happen, you know,’ Ottilie said. From the corner of her eye, she noticed Corrine get up. She went to a drawer and took out a stack of teacloths, folding them and putting them back, despite the fact they hadn’t needed it.
‘She didn’t exactly walk away from it. You want to say it was all Damien’s fault, is that it? I suppose you might have a point. I don’t think he was trying too hard to put her off either.’
Ottilie wanted to point out that their marriage must have already been on thin ice. If not, she was certain Damien wouldn’t have encouraged Fion in the way he’d clearly done. And Ottilie had heard and seen things that she now knew were clues to the state of things, even before Fion had got involved. She doubted Melanie wanted to hear it, though, and she recognised that even if that were true, being betrayed in such a way would still hurt.
‘Is she there now?’ Melanie asked into the gap. ‘With him?’
‘I don’t know. I’ve been at the surgery all morning. She didn’t say she was going up there, but…’ Ottilie shrugged.
‘They do have work to do,’ Corrine said, and while Ottilie was grateful for her trying to be reasonable, Melanie just offered her mother a withering look.
‘Do you think any work will be going on today?’
Ottilie couldn’t dispute Melanie’s logic. They might have every intention of keeping work and their personal lives separate, but it wasn’t likely to happen. Things would be horribly tangled. Time, she supposed, might help ease the situation, but she didn’t think that was likely either. It would take a big decision. Something was going to have to give, whether that was their working relationship or their romantic one. Fion had mooted leaving Damien’s employment, and as far as Ottilie could tell, that was becoming the most sensible course of action. It really didn’t seem as if either of them wanted to break off their affair. Was it even an affair now? It was out in the open, and when Ottilie thought of affairs, they were always clandestine, secret, sneaking things. But if it wasn’t an affair, what was it?
‘You’re not going over there, are you?’ Corrine asked.
Melanie shook her head. ‘Because that’s exactly what I need right now. To see them together.’
‘I don’t suppose you know what you’re going to do?’ Ottilie asked her.
‘Right now?’ Melanie sipped at her water. ‘I hardly know what day it is right now, let alone what I’m going to do.’ She pulled a blister pack from the pocket of her dressing gown and held it up. ‘I could down a few more of these to numb things. As a nurse, how many do you reckon is too many?’
Ottilie gave a start as she recognised the anti-depressants. So that was the medication? ‘I’d say don’t exceed the recommended dose,’ she said carefully, knowing full well that wasn’t the reaction Melanie wanted. But she couldn’t give the reaction Melanie wanted without alarming Corrine.
‘That’s what I thought,’ Melanie said, putting them back in her pocket. ‘I have thought about it, though. It would solve a few problems.’
Not for you , Ottilie thought, but she only glanced at Corrine, who was, thankfully, busy with her teacloths.
Should she discuss it with Fliss? She had to be careful here, and she wasn’t sure if she ought to do anything or not. Despite her words, Melanie seemed exhausted and upset, but she did seem stable. Was it worth rocking the boat? Might it make things worse if Ottilie got involved in her nursing capacity?
Melanie got up. ‘I’m going back to bed. Not much to stay up for, is there?’
Corrine spun round. ‘You’re not having breakfast? Not even a cup of tea?’
‘It’s lunchtime. And I don’t want any of that either. You can’t feed away a broken heart, Mum.’
It was the most vulnerable and the most telling thing Melanie had said since Damien and Fion’s affair had come out into the open. All she’d done so far was lash out and blame. She’d been angry and she’d been vindictive, but she’d never said how she was truly feeling about it, how she’d been affected as a wife – until this moment. Ottilie wanted to hug her and tell her it would get easier, but she knew she wasn’t the person Melanie needed for that. She doubted Melanie would welcome it, even if it did come from the right person. It would be some time before she’d be drawing those claws in enough to let anyone comfort her.
Corrine shook her head and watched sadly as Melanie left the kitchen with her glass of water. Then she turned to Ottilie.
‘I don’t know what to do with her.’
‘I’m sure. I wish I could help, but I don’t know what to say.’
‘It was good of you to come up.’
‘I don’t feel as if it’s made a lot of difference.’
‘Probably not,’ Corrine agreed. ‘I appreciate you trying. Don’t be too hard on yourself or Fion. It wasn’t all down to her. If the truth be known, if not her, it would have been someone else. They weren’t happy. They hadn’t been happy for a while, not since…’
Corrine switched the kettle off. Ottilie could tell there was more, things she wanted to say but didn’t think she ought to. She wasn’t going to push it. She wasn’t even sure she wanted to know what those things were. Her thoughts went back to more pressing matters. Like the afternoon surgery that would be running late if she didn’t make a move to get back for it.
She stepped forward and hugged Corrine briefly, and when she pulled away, Corrine had tears in her eyes.
‘Don’t mind me,’ she sniffed. ‘A little cry will do me the world of good. I might have one when you’ve gone.’
‘But you’ll be all right? Because if you need me to stay a bit longer, I can phone Lavender to?—’
‘No, no…’ Corrine forced a watery smile. ‘Don’t be daft. You have patients to see. On your way. Oh…’ She looked around the kitchen as if suddenly dazed. ‘I didn’t offer you anything.’
‘I think you might have had a reasonable excuse today,’ Ottilie said. ‘You’ve got my number. If you need anything, any help with…’ Her gaze wandered to the doorway Melanie had just disappeared through. ‘Call me.’
‘Thank you,’ Corrine said.
Ottilie left her and walked to the car. Corrine was thanking her, but for what? None of this was her fault, and everyone had gone out of their way to reassure her of that. So why did she still feel as if it was?