Chapter Fifteen
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Rustic pasta had never smelled so good. Ottilie arrived at Fliss’s house at the same time as Lavender and she could smell the herbs even from outside the front door. They both held up their bottle of red.
‘Snap,’ Lavender said. ‘You can’t go wrong with red when you’re coming to Fliss’s house.’
‘Has it been in the fridge?’
‘Of course!’
‘Mine too. Is it just me who finds that cold red thing weird?’
‘It’s weird. She’s weird, but she’s our weirdo.’
Ottilie smiled and knocked. ‘I wonder if Charles will be eating with us.’
‘Me too. I hope so. I like Charles and it feels as if we haven’t seen him in ages. Too much excitement for him, right?’
‘Us? You might be, but I’m definitely not!’
A moment later a smiling Charles opened the door.
‘Speak of the devil!’ Lavender kissed him lightly on the cheek.
‘And he shall appear – yes, I know. Hello, Lavender.’ He turned to Ottilie. ‘Hello, Ottilie. Both bang on time, of course. And of course, we’re not. Fliss is still cooking, so I thought I’d better rise up from my sickbed to get the door before she finished the job the heart attack didn’t manage. Come on in. Simon’s already in the sitting room.’
‘How are you doing?’ Ottilie asked as she and Lavender followed him inside.
‘I’m no expert, but I appear to be doing very well,’ Charles said. ‘Or so I’m told, though I confess I don’t feel like someone who’s doing well. I’m exhausted all the time, but I suppose that’s to be expected for a while.’
‘You look well,’ Lavender said.
‘Thank you. I have a good GP on hand, which gives me a head start on most.’
‘It must do.’ Ottilie smiled as she handed him her bottle. He looked tired and she could see now why Fliss was refusing to let him start work again. He was probably fretting about it – both he and Fliss were committed to their jobs – but he didn’t look strong enough to Ottilie to be stressed this soon, even if he did look and feel better than he had straight after his heart attack.
‘Ooh, lovely, thank you.’
Lavender did the same.
‘Take a seat in the sitting room,’ he said, making his way to the kitchen with the wine. ‘We’ll call you through in a minute. Just got to go and mop the chef’s brow.’
Simon was browsing a vast, ceiling-high bookcase when they went in. He turned at the sound of Lavender’s greeting.
‘Hello, Dr Stokes. Fancy meeting you here.’
‘Ah, Lavender! Indeed!’ Simon gave a low chuckle. His gaze flicked to Ottilie. ‘Hello. You both look lovely.’
‘Now I know he’s buttering us up for a good reason,’ Lavender said with a wink at Ottilie. Then she turned back to Simon. ‘So you’re being extra nice to us. Is that because you’re going to be asking us for lots of favours at work soon? Is there something you want to tell us about staying at Thimblebury surgery more permanently?’
‘I don’t know what you mean.’ Simon smoothed his face into a picture of innocence. ‘Can’t a bloke give his colleagues a compliment these days?’
‘Charles looks well, doesn’t he?’ Ottilie said as she took a seat on the sofa.
‘I thought so,’ Simon agreed. ‘I’m sure Fliss is making sure he doesn’t overdo it.’
‘Well, if you can’t have a speedy recovery when your wife is a doctor then you’ve got no hope,’ Lavender said, taking a seat next to Ottilie. But if she’d meant to make Simon laugh again, he didn’t. In fact, he suddenly looked strangely reflective.
‘Yes,’ he said, though his gaze went to the window, as if he wasn’t acknowledging Lavender’s comment at all, but something else.
All three turned at the sound of Charles poking his head around the door and announcing that dinner was finally ready. Ottilie might have been tempted to ruminate on Simon’s strange response, but dinner was calling and all else would have to wait.
Fliss was ruddy-cheeked as they filed in to take a seat at the table. Ottilie bit back a grin. She suspected that rather than it just being from cooking, there might have been some wine involved.
‘Hello, hello…welcome…Take a seat, everyone – never mind where, no place cards or that nonsense at my house. Wherever you like…Wine, everyone?’
Lavender shot Ottilie a look that told her she’d thought the same, and that Fliss was probably way ahead of the wine game already.
‘Thank you,’ Ottilie said. ‘It smells amazing.’
‘Oh, it’s nothing special,’ Fliss replied, nodding for Charles to take a seat too and then going to the fridge.
‘It’s your dirty macaroni,’ Charles said with a hint of pride in his voice as he sat down. ‘It’s always special.’
‘What’s that?’ Simon asked. ‘Sounds…interesting.’
‘Oh, we had it on holiday in Dubrovnik years back,’ Fliss said. ‘It’s actually called sporki macaroni, but sporki means dirty in Croatian so that’s what we always call it. It’s not exactly the way they cooked it there, but I’ve been experimenting for years, trying to recreate it. I don’t think I’m far off.’
‘I think it’s spot on,’ Charles said.
‘That’s because you’ve forgotten what the original tasted like,’ Fliss replied, going to the stove. ‘You’ve been eating my version for so long you think that’s how it was back then.’
‘What’s in it?’ Simon asked.
‘Slow-cooked beef and red wine and other odds and sods.’ Fliss stirred the contents of a large steel pan. ‘You did say you eat meat, didn’t you?’
‘Oh yes. Sounds amazing.’
‘That’s good, because if not that then you’d have to go to the cupboard and open some crisps – I don’t have anything else to offer you.’
After one last sniff, a quick taste and a final sprinkling of salt, Fliss brought the pot to the table and set it down on a trivet. Next to it she’d already placed a basket of bread, a butter dish with a fresh pat of creamy yellow butter in it and a large bowl of leafy green salad. She’d also put out olives and breadsticks and other bits and pieces. It was all very informal but elegant – effortlessly so, in fact, a bit like the way Ottilie always saw Fliss. Even when she was trying to be casual she had a sort of class that shone out from her.
‘This all looks incredible,’ Lavender said. ‘We must have done something very good to deserve such a treat.’
‘You have,’ Fliss said. ‘I don’t know what I would have done without the support of this wonderful little team over the past few weeks.’
‘Me neither,’ Charles said. ‘Because Fliss was able to have such confidence in you all to take care of the surgery, she was able to take care of me. I’m quite sure I wouldn’t be sitting here with you all now if not for her.’
‘Of course you would,’ Fliss said briskly. ‘Don’t talk rot.’
Lavender let out a giggle. ‘Poor Charles.’
‘I know.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘Pour my heart out, try to give the woman a compliment and what do I get? You see now what my married life is like? People think I must have it made but they don’t see this.’
Ottilie smiled. Despite how they teased or reprimanded or chided one another, she knew that there were few more devoted couples than Fliss and Charles. The villagers of Thimblebury gossiped about them often, speculated on the fact that they’d never shared a home, how they appeared to have entirely separate lives. Some saw what Ottilie and Lavender did – that no matter what anyone thought about it, the way they inhabited their marriage worked for them, and it worked brilliantly. Others couldn’t understand it, and some were convinced it was a marriage of convenience, though Ottilie couldn’t imagine what they thought there was to be gained from such a strange one, where there was no reason to do it.
Ottilie held out her plate and Fliss scooped a ladleful of the pasta onto it. ‘More?’
‘God, yes, please!’ Ottilie grinned. ‘If it’s not depriving anyone else.’
‘There’s buckets of the stuff,’ Fliss said. ‘Eat as much as you like. I’ll be happy if you approve enough to eat more than one plate.’
‘If it tastes as good as it looks, I might run off with the pan,’ Simon said.
Fliss beamed at him. ‘I know it’s not done to blow one’s own trumpet, but I like to think that it does. Should I booby-trap the pot just in case?’
‘I think you might have to.’
Lavender had her plate filled, and then Simon, and then Charles. Finally, Fliss served some for herself and took a seat, reaching for her glass. ‘Bon appétit.’
A chorus of complimentary and contented voices rippled around the table as everyone tucked in and gave their opinions on the dish. Ottilie had expected it to be good, but she was surprised to find it was incredible. She wasn’t sure she could replicate it, and if she tried it would never be as delicious as this, but she quickly decided to ask Fliss for the recipe before she went home so she could make it for Heath.
Despite the relaxed conviviality and polite chatter, Ottilie couldn’t help but feel a sense of anticipation hanging in the air. Fliss’s decision was the reason they’d all gathered, but as yet, the subject of her retirement hadn’t been broached, and Ottilie wondered whether she’d save it until they’d eaten.
As usual, Lavender was less inclined towards tact and jumped straight in with both size sixes. ‘So, are you are going to tell us your plans?’
Fliss exchanged a look of amusement with Charles.
He smiled. ‘Nothing changes, I see.’
‘Sorry, but I thought…’
‘Yes, there’s an update,’ Fliss said. ‘I was going to wait until we were on the pudding course and a bit more wine, but as you seem so eager to know, I’ll tell you.’ She glanced at Simon, who smiled. It was obvious he knew what was coming. ‘I’ve decided not to retire just yet, but I am going to cut my hours. And Simon has kindly agreed to stop on.’
‘For how long?’ Ottilie asked.
‘I’m looking into making him a partner. There are some details to iron out, but…’
Lavender sat up. ‘That’s brilliant!’
‘It is!’ Ottilie agreed. ‘Congratulations, Simon. I’m so happy you’re both going to be staying at the surgery.’
Simon inclined his head, his smile growing. ‘Thanks. I’m happy too. I wasn’t sure about being in such a small village at first, but it’s weird how Thimblebury grows on you. I had to think about it for a bit?—’
‘For far too long,’ Fliss cut in. ‘A woman could be offended by that, you know.’
Simon’s smile turned into a grin. ‘Sorry about that. But now that it’s all sorted, I’m really looking forward to getting started properly.’
‘When will that be?’ Lavender asked.
‘Well, I suppose I’ll have to serve some sort of notice to the agency, but the good thing is I can do that while I continue to work here, so the transition ought to be so smooth nobody will even notice it. The only thing that will really change is who pays my salary.’
Ottilie reached for her wine. ‘That’s really good news. Looks as if everything has worked out pretty well.’
Fliss nodded. ‘I’ll say. Certainly better than I ever could have hoped for.’
Ottilie turned back to Simon. ‘So are you still going to commute back and forth? It’s a long way to do that many times a week.’
‘Well, that’s the other big change,’ Fliss jumped in again. ‘Sorry, Simon, don’t mean to steal your thunder but…’
‘No, go ahead. It’s your news really.’
‘This one won’t affect either of you,’ Fliss added, looking at Ottilie and Lavender. ‘But Charles and I have finally decided, after thirty-six years of marriage, that we’re going to move in together. I’m sure there will be many in the village who would say it’s about time.’
‘Wow,’ Ottilie said. ‘I didn’t see that coming. What’s changed your mind?’
Perhaps it was obvious really, but Charles was happy to elucidate.
‘I think,’ he said, ‘that she wants me where she can keep an eye on me in case I decide to almost die again.’
‘That’s a good enough reason as far as I can see,’ Lavender said. ‘Which house is going up for sale? That’s going to be news in itself – nothing ever goes up for sale round here. I think the last one was Wordsworth Cottage.’
‘I think so,’ Ottilie agreed. ‘Lucky for me.’
‘Charles is going to move in here.’ Fliss topped up her wine and then began to work her way around the table doing the same for everyone else. ‘We’re going to keep hold of Rosemary Cottage, though. Simon is going to rent it from us for the foreseeable future.’
‘A handy escape route, eh?’ Lavender said with a wry smile. ‘Don’t buy, in case you don’t settle.’
‘Actually,’ Charles said with a laugh, ‘it’s more to do with us wanting to keep hold of it in case our domestic arrangement doesn’t work out. We’ve never lived together before – we might end up hating each other. And you said yourself, nothing comes up for sale around here, so once we’ve let it go then that’s it, gone.’
‘But what if that happens?’ Ottilie asked. ‘What about Simon?’
‘Oh, I expect I’ll find something,’ Simon replied in Charles’s stead. ‘If not here I could look a bit further afield. Even a couple of towns away isn’t going to be as bad as driving back and forth to Liverpool every day like I am now.’
‘Quite.’ Fliss glugged a mouthful of wine from her glass to make room for the last drops in the bottle. Charles raised his eyebrows meaningfully and she waved it away. ‘You’re only jealous because you can’t have any.’
He picked up his glass to show her. ‘I’ve got some here.’
‘You can’t have any more then. That had better be the last one. You’ve barely set foot out of hospital – I don’t want you rushing back in there again.’
Charles turned to Simon. ‘Actually, I’ve changed my mind. Can I have Rosemary Cottage back?’
Everyone started to laugh except Fliss, who shot a sour look Charles’s way, though nobody was convinced she meant it.
Ottilie’s smile lingered even as her laughter faded and she gazed around the table at every face, happy. This promised to be the best possible outcome for the surgery. If she’d had all the powers in the world to make anything happen, she couldn’t have made any of this better. She loved working with Lavender and Fliss and she had a feeling she was going to love working with Simon once the post was official too.