‘Most people deserve to have things they want, but it’s rare anyone does. That’s life. I’ve got everything I need now and that’s enough.’
She turned back to her work to signal the discussion was at an end. She’d meant what she’d said – she didn’t need anyone’s pity, and it didn’t help her.
Half an hour later, both of them working in companionable silence as a local radio station provided inoffensive pop tunes for Zoe to hum along to, Alex’s voice brought her back to the room as he put down the brush. ‘I don’t know about you but I’m starving.’
‘You’ve barely started!’ Zoe said with a light laugh, glad the more serious tone of their recent conversation had been banished. ‘How are you hungry already?’
‘I don’t know, but I am. I’m going to make a sandwich – shall I do one for you?’
‘I suppose I could fit something in. It will save us bothering later, so we can carry on and get a bit more done here.’
Zoe put the lid on her paint and wrapped the brush in cling film while Alex went to the kitchen. She’d just washed her hands when her phone started to ring from where she’d left it charging in the living room.
‘Want me to see who it is?’ Billie shouted through.
Zoe went in to find Billie hauling herself from the sofa where she’d been lying down. Her fair hair was scraped into a low ponytail, her slender hands unconsciously going to her baby bump in a gesture of protection as she waddled to the side table.
‘Don’t worry,’ Zoe said, but Billie was already there, phone in hand, showing her the screen. Zoe sucked in a breath. She was suddenly alert, excited even. Ottilie, Thimblebury’s nurse and the person Zoe had to thank for her own move there, was pregnant with her first baby, and they’d been expecting labour any day now. Zoe had always felt the privilege of her job, but in this case, caring for her best friend and her unborn baby was an honour.
‘Do you think this might be it?’ Billie asked.
Without reply, already mentally preparing for the eventuality, Zoe took the phone from her and swiped to answer.
‘Sorry about this,’ Ottilie said, her voice calm despite her next words. ‘But I think I’m going to need you. Like right now.’
2
The wind had got up in the ten minutes or so since Ottilie’s call. Now that Zoe had a moment to reflect as she drove down the hill to the village, she realised Ottilie’s tone wasn’t quite as untroubled as she’d tried to pretend. At least it was still daylight. She often had to, of course, but Zoe had never been a fan of driving down from Hilltop Farm in the dark. The new year had not long got underway, so the days were still short, and it wouldn’t be long until the evening drew in.
Her mind raced. She was ready for action, but she wondered what to expect when she arrived at Wordsworth Cottage, Ottilie’s home. There had been no plan for a home birth, for one. Ottilie had been sensible enough to realise that as an older mother expecting her first child, a well-equipped and well-staffed hospital was the best place to have her baby. All along, Ottilie had coped well with pregnancy and had followed Zoe’s advice to the letter. They were both medically trained, and so she’d known as well as Zoe what was good for her. The fact that she was home, asking Zoe to come, meant things hadn’t quite gone to plan, though Zoe hoped it would simply be a timing issue and nothing more problematic. She’d find out soon enough.
At picture-perfect Wordsworth Cottage, Ottilie’s partner Heath was pale as he opened a front door shaded by trees and climbing shrubs cut back for winter. ‘I’ve called for the ambulance. I said hours ago we should have gone to the hospital, but you know Ottilie…she didn’t want a fuss, and she refused to bother anyone until she was sure. Well, she’s bloody sure now!’
‘Where is she?’
‘In the bedroom. She went to have a lie-down.’
Zoe stepped in, only to be immediately accosted by Heath’s grandma, Flo. Holding back a groan of frustration, she nodded curtly. ‘All right, Flo.’
‘I came to see if I could help,’ Flo said. For once, her usual shortness was absent.
Flo was known in the village for being temperamental. That was the politest description Zoe had heard, but most thought she could be an absolute pain. However, Zoe was also aware that, despite her brusqueness, Flo was very fond of Ottilie and had come to think of her as family, even before Ottilie and Heath’s relationship had become serious. Zoe softened as she recognised the old lady’s concern.
‘I only popped round to see if Heath could get a lid off some jam for me,’ Flo continued. ‘And I find all this. Well, I was hardly going to go home and put the kettle on, was I? Anyway, I couldn’t have my toast without the jam, so that was that.’
In any other situation, Zoe might have seen the funny side to Flo’s statement, but she simply gave a tight smile. ‘Of course not. Perhaps you could make Ottilie a cup of tea?’ she added, not because she thought Ottilie needed tea at this precise moment, but because it would give a visibly worried Flo something to focus on. It would also keep her out of the way while Zoe did her initial assessments.
‘Tea…’ Flo hesitated and then gave an emphatic nod. ‘Tea…good idea! Shall I make a pot? We’ll all have one, won’t we?’
‘If you’re making a pot, that would be lovely.’
Zoe headed for the stairs, hardly noticing as Flo bustled away to the kitchen.
‘Nicely handled,’ Heath said in a low voice as he followed her up. ‘Better than I could do.’
‘I’ve had plenty of practice,’ Zoe replied. ‘She just wants to be useful – I’d feel the same. What did the call handler tell you about the paramedics? How long until they get here?’
‘She didn’t say, just that it would be as soon as they could. She didn’t sound overly worried.’ He ran a hand through hair that was already standing up as if he’d been doing it like a nervous tic for the past hour at least. ‘I don’t think I should have called them, should I? Ottilie said not to; she said to put her in the car, but I wouldn’t have it. I mean, she looked so rough, and I was like there’s no way she can tolerate a car journey to the maternity unit, and I don’t mind admitting I’m scared half to death right now. Is it always this hard?’
