Chapter Seven
CHAPTER SEVEN
When Ottilie let herself into the kitchen of Hilltop farmhouse the following day, there was no smell of cooking breakfast. Darryl was sitting at the table with his beloved train book, but he didn’t have his usual mug of blackcurrant cordial – his only drink of choice and something that Ottilie was trying very hard to wean him off, if only for the insane things it did to his blood sugar – and he was alone.
‘Good morning.’ Ottilie frowned as she looked for signs of his mum. ‘On your own this morning?’
He looked up from his book, but his usual recognition at the sight of Ottilie wasn’t there this morning either. ‘Yes.’
‘Where’s your mum?’
He gave a vague shrug.
‘Ann?’ Ottilie went to the door that led to the living room and called through. Getting no reply, she went to the foot of the stairs and shouted up. ‘Ann? Are you up there? Just letting you know I’m here!’
From upstairs there was a muffled reply.
‘Shall I wait down here?’ Ottilie shouted. ‘Is everything all right?’
She had no reason to believe any different, and yet she’d never been to Hilltop Farm and found Ann absent from wherever Darryl was. She watched him like a hawk, bending over backwards to cater for his every whim. To find him at the breakfast table without breakfast and without her was the thing setting Ottilie’s alarm bells ringing.
She went back through to Darryl, recalling bits of the conversation she’d had with Ann the previous day. She hadn’t been feeling quite herself – had her situation worsened?
‘Has your mum got out of bed yet?’
‘No.’
‘Have you had your insulin?’
He shrugged, which Ottilie took to mean that he hadn’t but he didn’t want to let her know that because he often made a fuss about having to take it. But she didn’t want to give him a double dose by mistake. She could check his blood sugar, but she could just as easily get the answer from Ann.
Making a snap decision, Ottilie went back to the stairs and started to climb them. With the way the last few days had gone, she wasn’t about to risk putting anyone else in danger.
‘Ann…?’ She tapped lightly at the first door, unsure if it was the right one. ‘Ann…are you in bed? Is everything all right?’
‘Ottilie…’
Ann’s voice was small but coming from beyond the door.
‘Can I come in?’
‘Yes. Sorry, I…’
Ottilie pushed open the door and peered around it. Ann was in bed, lying on her side with her blankets pulled up around her chin.
‘I feel rotten,’ she said.
‘You don’t look so good.’ Ottilie made her way over and perched on the edge of the bed, putting the back of her hand to Ann’s face. ‘Bit hot.’
‘My back…it hurts so much. Is Darryl…?’
‘He’s fine – he’s downstairs at the table. I’ll make him some breakfast. Has he had his insulin?’
‘I don’t know. I didn’t give him…’
‘That’s all right – don’t stress. I’ll see to him. I’m going to phone the doctor to come up and see you.’
‘No, I’ll be up in an hour or so?—’
‘You won’t, Ann. He’ll be able to tell us better, but I’d say you’re going to need some antibiotics and a bit of bed rest.’
‘I can’t stay in bed – I have too much to do on the farm, and Darryl?—’
‘Don’t worry about any of that. We’ll get you some help. You need rest or you’ll end up being out of action for a lot longer.’ Ottilie gave her a reassuring smile. ‘I’m going to make a phone call downstairs, make Darryl some toast and then I’ll be right back up, OK?’
Ann gave a weak nod, and Ottilie left her to phone the surgery, thankful that she’d been here to catch this before it got a lot worse.
After a long conversation with Simon, the cover GP, Ottilie had tried to persuade Ann to let her call an ambulance to take her to hospital, but Ann wouldn’t hear of it. Ottilie wasn’t entirely convinced she needed one either, but as Simon was busy in clinic and wouldn’t be able to make a house call for a few hours, he’d decided it would be the safest option. In the end, Ottilie had been forced to leave Ann, with some very detailed instructions for her and Darryl if things should take a turn for the worse – though how much of it had gone in with either of them was anyone’s guess – and a promise that the doctor would be up as soon as his morning clinic was done.
At lunch, Ottilie drove Simon up to Hilltop. It seemed easier than trying to direct him around an area he was new to, and she knew Darryl would feel less stressed to see a familiar face alongside one he didn’t know.
‘These aren’t roads designed for healthy suspension,’ Simon said, grimacing as they jolted over a pothole.
‘I hate to break it to you, but there’s a possibility that any minute now my wheels will start spinning and we’ll have to abandon the car and walk the rest of the way to the farm too.’
‘Yeah, I forgot how much I hated the countryside.’
Ottilie laughed lightly. ‘You can’t mean that. Surely nobody could hate the countryside.’ She threw him a sideways glance before turning back to the road. He wore a wry smile.
‘No, I don’t suppose so,’ he said. ‘At least when the sun is shining and it’s all green and lovely you can’t. But in the winter.’
‘It’s spring.’
‘Is it? I wouldn’t have noticed if you hadn’t said.’
Ottilie laughed again.
‘How long have you lived here?’ he asked.
‘Not quite a year.’
‘So you came for this job, or did you want to move here anyway?’
‘The job mainly, but I did want a move out of Manchester. I saw this advertised and it looked like the perfect fit.’
‘And is it?’
‘Yes. I’m happy here and I love the work. How about you? Is Liverpool home? You don’t have much of an accent.’
‘I was born in Essex but, a bit like you, moved up to Liverpool for my first GP post. I met my wife there. She was studying there.’
Ottilie carefully noted the suddenly melancholic tone of his voice. What did that mean? They were no longer together? Or something sadder, more like her own situation? She wondered whether to ask, but then the wheels of her car started to slip, and she decided to pull over before she got well and truly stuck, unable to move up or down.
‘That’s it, I’m afraid. We’re going to have to walk the rest of the way.’
‘You need a tractor,’ he said, getting out of the car.
‘I definitely need to invest in a sturdier car,’ Ottilie replied. ‘An old jeep or something. But it’s a lot of money and I manage well enough for now.’
They began to walk. It was steep and she noticed Simon was soon a bit breathless. Simon looked far from unfit – in fact, he had a good physique from what Ottilie could see – but these hills could defeat even the hardiest sportsman if you weren’t used to them. Ottilie had grown used to going up and down to Hilltop over the past few months and found it challenging but not quite as strenuous as she had in the beginning.
‘Who looked at this hill and thought “I really want to build a house up there”?’ he panted.
Ottilie turned to him with a smile. ‘I know what you mean. But I suppose if you can build anywhere around here, you might as well have the views. I mean’ – she turned and swept a hand across the vista – ‘look at that. You can’t say that’s not amazing.’
Simon turned to look. Sunlight and shadow were racing across patchwork greens of fields, sectioned up with darker strips of hedgerows and stone walls, hillsides dotted with houses and trees, the lines of valley floors struck across them. They stretched out as far as the horizon.
‘What’s that water?’ he asked, pointing to a glittering basin.
‘Um, I think that’s Windermere.’
‘OK,’ he said, turning back to the hill. ‘It’s not so bad. Still not happy about this climb, though.’
‘You get used to it.’
‘You do this a lot then?’
‘Every morning, more or less. Darryl – Ann’s son – has quite complex needs, so I call in before I come to work to make sure everything is OK. It’s only because of that I found Ann in bed.’
‘What kind of needs does he have?’
‘Mostly learning difficulties, diabetes, occasional seizures, though Ann says he hasn’t had any of those for a long time. Certainly not since I started to visit.’
‘And you have to come up every morning? Isn’t that within a social care remit?’
Ottilie turned to him with a wry smile as they started to walk again. ‘You’re in Thimblebury. We’re miles from anywhere, with a population smaller than some inner-city schools. Social care availability is limited around here. Besides, Darryl has got used to me now and he trusts me, so it seems easier to carry on as we are. It doesn’t take that long – usually, anyway – it just means me leaving the house half an hour or so before I would ordinarily.’
‘Well, I applaud your dedication.’
‘Thank you. And I applaud yours right now – you’re doing a sterling job of climbing this hill.’
‘Is that sarcasm?’
‘Of course not! Wouldn’t dream of it.’
‘Because I’d like to remind you,’ he replied with a smile of his own, ‘that I may only be temporary cover, but I’m still the GP.’
‘Yes, Doctor.’
‘That’s better. I knew it was a bad idea to have you calling me Simon – all sorts of dissent going on left, right and centre.’
‘You’ll know for next time.’
‘I will. Never had any of this in Botswana.’
‘Botswana? Is that where you’ve been?’
‘Got back about three weeks ago. I was there for a year.’
‘Working as a GP?’
‘On a voluntary basis, yes.’
‘Wow, that’s impressive.’
‘Not really. I’ve always felt I had a moral obligation to give back. You know, I’m lucky enough to have been born in a country where I was afforded the time and space and finances to pursue a career that pays me well and is good to me. I need to somehow repay that…Well, at the risk of sounding like a raging hippy, I like to think of it as a karmic debt. It’s only dumb luck that you and I were born here – we could just as easily have been born in a place a lot less kind to us.’
‘What did your family think about you going off for a year?’
‘They were fine about it. We’re not that close anyway really.’
‘And your…’ Ottilie wanted to say wife, but that doubt crept in again. He’d been so sad when he’d talked about her. And were there children? He hadn’t said so. ‘So you were pretty free to do what you wanted?’
‘As a bird,’ he said. He nodded at a wide metal farm gate. ‘Is that the way in?’
‘Yes.’
‘Thank God. If I go much further you’re going to have to find me some oxygen.’
At the front door, Ottilie knocked briefly and pushed it open, as she did every morning. Darryl was still sitting at the same spot at the table, empty crisp packets littering it and three more mugs with the unmistakable purple stains of blackcurrant juice. Simon gave them a critical once-over. Darryl started to smile at the sight of Ottilie, but it froze halfway to his face when he noticed she wasn’t alone.
‘Who’s that?’ he asked her.
‘This is Dr Stokes. He’s come to see your mum. Is that all right?’
Darryl gave a sullen nod.
Simon strode over and held out his hand. ‘I’m pleased to meet you, Darryl. I’ve heard lots about you.’
Darryl looked at the outstretched hand and then at Ottilie as if for reassurance.
‘It’s fine,’ she said. ‘I’ve been telling Dr Stokes how much you like trains.’
At this, Darryl seemed to brighten. He held up the book Ottilie had bought for him. ‘Here,’ he said. ‘There’s loads in here.’
Simon went to look over Darryl’s shoulder as he flicked through it, pointing to each glossy photo and reading out the name of the train.
‘That’s very cool,’ Simon said. ‘Listen, I’m going to take a look at your mum. Why don’t you find the page with your absolute favourite train and show me when I come back down?’
Darryl’s head went down and he began to rip through the pages with a feverish excitement.
Ottilie smiled at Simon. ‘Nicely done,’ she whispered. And then in a louder voice: ‘I’ll show you where to go.’
At the top of the stairs, Ottilie called out, ‘Ann…it’s me. I’ve brought the doctor to see you. Are you awake?’
‘I thought I could hear you…’
Ann’s voice came from beyond the bedroom door. Ottilie pushed it open. Ann was still wrapped up tight in her blankets, her face flushed, but she seemed more lucid.
‘The ibuprofen helped a little bit then?’ Ottilie asked. ‘You seem brighter.’ She turned to Simon. ‘This is Ann. Ann…Dr Stokes.’
‘Oh,’ Ann said. ‘Where’s…’
‘She’s off right now,’ Ottilie said, not wanting to get into it. Clearly gossip from the village took a little while to get up this far, and Ann had probably been in no state to follow it even if that wasn’t the case. ‘Dr Stokes is filling in. He’s brilliant, so don’t worry, you’ll be in safe hands.’
‘You’re staying, though?’ Ann asked uncertainly.
Ottilie nodded. ‘Of course. I’ll be just here by the door.’
Ottilie watched as Simon gently encouraged Ann to sit up on her pillows and started to question her. She had to be impressed. He had a bedside manner as pleasant as he seemed to be. She’d enjoyed their walk up to the farm, and she’d been intrigued enough by what few details he’d shared of his life to want to know more. She’d been worried about his cover for Fliss, but she was beginning to realise that she needn’t have been – she could see he was capable and gentle and very thorough. As long as the surgery could keep him for however long Fliss had to be off, they were going to be absolutely fine.