Chapter 8
It was cold but bright, and so Zoe decided it would be a pleasant walk to see Ottilie, who’d been discharged from the hospital and was now home with her baby.
Zoe always looked forward to seeing her latest newborns, but she was particularly excited to visit Ottilie and baby Anthony.
Not only was there surgery gossip to catch her up on, but she always felt better in Ottilie’s company – calmer, more capable.
It was a strange thing, something that Ottilie obviously didn’t even know she was doing, but she had a certain aura that was just…
the only word Zoe could think of was lovely.
It was a word that was overused, but in Ottilie’s case, the truest, most perfect word to sum her up.
And fussing over Ottilie and her baby would take Zoe’s mind off her parents – particularly her mum’s impending visit.
Luckily – for Ottilie at least – though Zoe and Ottilie were friends who went way back to Zoe’s student days, her mum had never really spent much time in her company, so she wouldn’t be too keen to visit.
The sky was the colour of old denim, and the starkness of the sun on the hills made it seem so close, Zoe felt like she could reach out and touch it.
The wind of the previous evening had died down but was still fierce enough to lift her hair in all directions, whistling around her neck to chill her.
Despite the blustery conditions, the walk had made Zoe hot. She was unfastening her coat and trying to check through her emails on her phone at the same time as she walked the lane, and, not looking where she was going, almost ran into the vicar with enough force to knock him off his feet.
‘I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you at all! Too busy with this…’ He held up his mobile. ‘If any one thing is the devil’s work, I think it might be this blasted device! All in our own worlds when they’re switched on, aren’t we?’
‘Same here.’ Zoe showed him hers. ‘Trying to make sure I’ve seen all my urgent emails.’
‘How are you?’ he asked. ‘Recovered from our little drama in the church at Christmas?’
Zoe gave a broad smile, reminded forcibly of the event. Drama was one word for it. It didn’t get much more dramatic than your best friend going into labour in a blizzard, trapped in the church on Christmas Eve. ‘Just about.’
‘I’m glad I’ve bumped into you, actually,’ he said.
‘I’ve been on the phone to your charming…
’ He cleared his throat. ‘Chantal Smith. Come to think of it, I’m not sure…
what’s her relationship to you? She did mention she knew you well, but she didn’t say what the connection was.
Or if she did, I wasn’t listening properly. ’
‘My dad’s fiancée. I’m not sure what that makes her now, but…
’ Zoe was reminded of their wedding, and then another thought occurred to her that hadn’t before, though she couldn’t for the life of her see why it hadn’t.
Once Chantal married her dad, that would make her Zoe’s stepmother.
The notion was quite mad, especially considering Chantal was younger than her.
‘Well,’ she continued, desperately trying to shake the thought, ‘she’s my dad’s girlfriend.
They’re getting married. At least, they want to…
I suppose that’s why she was calling? Dad did say… ’
‘Yes, yes. She was asking if we had availability. I must say it’s a bit out of their way, isn’t it? I expect it’s because you’re here that they’re considering St Cuthbert’s?’
‘And do you?’ Zoe asked, not entirely sure what she wanted to hear as an answer. ‘Have availability, I mean?’
‘Well, as a matter of fact, because Valentine’s Day is a weekday, we do. People aren’t keen to marry on weekdays on the whole.’
‘So she’s booked you?’
‘Not yet. There are some formalities that must be observed before we can dry the ink, so to speak. But I certainly have the space if Chantal and your father can get their ducks in a row. Forgive me,’ he added with a shrug, ‘I’m rather mixing my metaphors, aren’t I?’
‘I don’t know about that, but I get what you mean. Are these formalities difficult to sort out?’
‘That all depends on what the council services are like where they live. If it’s an office that’s quick to process this sort of request, I don’t see they’ll have a great deal of difficulty.
I must say, however, it will be a tight turnaround.
I did try to persuade her to perhaps allow more time to organise the wedding, but she was quite adamant on the date. ’
‘She would be,’ Zoe said, more to herself than to him, and then looked up to see him regarding her with a faint look of confusion. ‘She’s the spontaneous type,’ Zoe said. ‘Likes to do things the minute she thinks of them. I’m not saying it’s a bad quality, only that’ll be the reason.’
‘She did mention being pregnant.’
‘Is that a problem?’
The vicar gave a bemused smile. ‘Should it be?’
‘No, I thought…’
‘Being the vicar of a tiny village parish, you thought I might not approve of “living over the brush” or whatever the term is these days? It may surprise you to know I have married one or two couples in my time who might already have been sharing a bed.’
Zoe flushed. ‘I didn’t mean…! I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking!
To tell the absolute truth, it’s all a bit sudden for me – my dad’s wedding, I mean.
I’m still at odds and ends with it all. And now I’m mixing metaphors too!
Ignore me, I have a lot on my mind and I’m not thinking as straight as I might be otherwise. ’
‘Anything you’d like to get off your chest?’
Zoe looked up at him. Apart from the previous Christmas, she’d never had much cause to cross paths with Thimblebury’s amiable clergyman, but she’d always noticed how kind and open his face was.
It was tempting now to let rip, let all her resentful niggles out and cleanse herself of them.
But she recognised that they were just that – resentful niggles.
She didn’t want to be that person, especially in front of him.
‘Thanks, but I’m all right. A lot on at work, you know.’
‘Oh dear. I’d offer help, but that’s one area I’m definitely out of my depth with – as no doubt you noticed at Christmas. How are they, by the way? Georgia and Brett and the baby? I must call to see them.’
‘They’re all doing brilliantly, and I’m sure they’d love to see you if you have time.’
‘I’ll make time. After all, we have a special connection, don’t we?’
‘You do.’ Zoe forced a smile. ‘I’m sorry but I have to…’
‘Of course; don’t let me keep you.’
Zoe’s smile stayed firmly in place until he was gone, but then she let it go, her shoulders sagging with it.
It looked as if Chantal was serious about a wedding at St Cuthbert’s.
Which meant that Zoe would inevitably end up very involved because she lived in Thimblebury.
There would be pre-visits, arrangements that they’d expect Zoe to help with, being in situ, not to mention everyone who had known the couple and was still friends with her dad convening in the village to celebrate, while her mum would be left in the cold.
How in the hell was Zoe going to square this?
More to the point, she was going to have to tell her, probably at the weekend when she came to visit, and the thought of it made Zoe feel sick.
But to keep it to herself would end up making things worse when the truth came out.
She’d had a lovely few months of relative peace in Thimblebury – at least, the things that had happened there were only a drama for her and her own life, and she could cope with that – but she might have known it couldn’t last.
Flo opened the front door. She was wearing an apron and had her sleeves rolled up, which suggested to Zoe she was in the middle of some chore or other she was doing for Ottilie.
And while Zoe approved of family members offering help while mum and baby were still getting to know one another, she also suspected that Flo would be there sticking her nose in, whether she’d been asked to or not.
‘Oh, about time,’ she said, stepping away from the front door and shuffling down the hall, leaving Zoe to see herself in. ‘Ottilie said half two. It’s twenty-five to three.’
‘I got waylaid.’ Zoe took her coat off. ‘Where’s Ottilie?’
‘On the settee.’ Flo nodded at the door to the living room. ‘Little one is in there with her – she’s trying to get him off to sleep.’
‘Hmm, so she’s not going to like me very much in a minute,’ Zoe said.
‘I suppose you want a cup of tea…’ Flo added as she disappeared into the kitchen. ‘Not that I have time to make tea for all and sundry when I’ve got all this other work to do…’
‘I’m fine for tea,’ Zoe said. ‘Don’t worry, get on with… whatever it is you’re doing.’
She pushed the living-room door open and found Ottilie in her pyjamas, stretched out on the sofa with baby Anthony lying on her chest. Her sandy hair – usually glossy and neat, was pulled into a loose bun, the odd flyaway escaping to cling to her face.
‘Hey…’ she whispered in a voice that still sounded weak. ‘I was just trying to get him off… think I might finally have managed it.’
‘Flo told me, but I might have to wake him.’
‘Really?’
‘I’ll give it as long as I can, but I do need to do his checks. And he needs his vitamin K, which is bound to wake him.’ Zoe sat down on the chair across from her. ‘How are you feeling? I see you have help.’
‘Flo?’ Ottilie rolled her eyes. ‘Yes, she’s been here a lot – and don’t I know it!’
‘Where’s Heath?’
‘Popped out for cake. He seems to think I need an endless supply of cake for some reason. And crisps and chocolate and anything else Magnus and Geoff can get in.’
‘I’m surprised Corrine hasn’t been down yet with enough cake to bury you. I know she’s dying to see the baby.’
‘I’m surprised Heath hasn’t been up to ask her for some. Corrine did call, bless her. I was asleep and Flo answered the phone, so I think that might be why she hasn’t been to visit yet.’