That Time When... Ollie Met A Barton

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Three days had passed since Ollie's arrival in Emmerdale and she had to admit that the peace and quiet of the tranquil hamlet was just what the doctor ordered.

When Chrissie had invited her to stay she'd originally turned her down. Peace and quiet was the last thing she needed. Or so she thought. The idea of being surrounded by acres of green fields and wide open space terrified her; because then she'd be forced to confront her thoughts and acknowledge her pain and if she did that, if she thought about her Dad for more than a minute, she would fall apart. What she needed was to continue working at her job as an equine veterinarian twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week; leaving no time to think about anything and especially no time to mourn all she had lost in her twenty-four years.

Chrissie had talked her round though, insisting that she needed her family around her. Now that she was here she realised she did need time to properly grieve for her father, and Home Farm was the perfect place for a person to rest and relax. The house itself was gorgeous - she expected nothing less from her big sister - and the stables were just an added bonus for Ollie. She'd spent most of the weekend working alongside the stablehand, helping to groom the horses and clean out the stalls. Chrissie hadn't bothered insisting she should be relaxing not working. She was just glad that she had something to help take her mind off her dad. Spending time with horses wasn't work to Ollie, for her it was the perfect way to relax. There was something therapeutic about being in the company of the majestic animals.

On arriving at Home Farm her sister had showed her to what would be her bedroom. One of the larger rooms that overlooked the fields out back of the vast property and at the opposite end of the hallway from Lachlan's room. Knowing how much her son enjoyed playing his music, Chrissie decided this room was perfect for her little sister. Plenty of quiet, lots of space and with her own private bathroom. The room was filled with gorgeous solid oak furnishings and a Queen size bed. Soft peach and pink décor was the theme throughout and - because her sister knew how much she adored them - vases of freshly cut wildflowers adorned the dressing table, the window sill and nightstand. Ollie had been touched. Her sister had put a lot of thought into making her stay as comfortable as possible.

Later that Monday afternoon Lawrence and Chrissie decided to take Ollie into the village and to The Woolpack for a spot of lunch. After parking up they were on their way inside the pub when Ollie's phone rang. Taking it from her bag and seeing who the caller was she immediately sighed. Mark Hawtrey. Her ex boyfriend.

"It's Mark," she said tucking a strand of dark blonde hair behind one ear. "I should take this."

"Mark?" Chrissie turned to look at her sister. "I thought that was over months ago?"

"It was. But when dad died he was there for me," she shrugged. She didn't bother to add that while she was grieving, and unable to do so herself, she had appointed her ex as Executor of her father's estate. She was now beginning to question that decision. Mark was a brilliant solicitor but she knew how his mind worked - he viewed the move as a 'green light' - hoping to one day win her back. She had just needed a friend, someone to take the pressure off.

Chrissie pulled her 'worried big sister' face. It seemed she'd been pulling that face too much lately and Ollie hated being the reason behind her sister's worry. Now that mum, dad and Tom were all gone she knew Chrissie felt almost responsible for her youngest sister. Even though she was twenty-five and had been living her own life since graduating University a year earlier.

"You don't want to get messed up with him again, Ollie," Chrissie gently reminded. "He's bad news."

Ollie didn't need the reminder. She knew exactly what Mark was about, and what he had done. They'd been together almost two years and he'd cheated on her numerous times and with a few of her so-called friends. She wasn't about to forgive, nor forget, so easily.

"I know," she murmured. "Just give me five minutes, okay?"

"We'll be inside."

* * * * *

After ending the call Ollie shoved her phone back into her bag with a heavy sigh. Chrissie was right. She usually was. She really didn't need to get messed up in Mark again but, damn him, he was being so helpful and she was appreciative, and right now her fragile state of mind meant that people being nice to her was her weakness.

I'm a sucker for his punishment.

Pushing all thoughts of Mark from her head she was on her way into The Woolpack as a young, dark-haired guy was on his way out. Neither were looking where they were going and so they slammed into one another. Hard.

"Oh, sorry!" Ollie immediately apologized.

"Watch where you're going," spat Ross Barton as he pierced her with a dark, deathly stare.

"I did apologize," she said. He shoved by her, hands deep in the pockets of his black bomber jacket.

"What, and I'm meant to be grateful or something?" he said making his way onto Main Street.

"Wow. You're not at all rude, are you? And I think you'll find the bus stop's the other way," she called after him.

He turned back, eyes narrowed. "You what?"

"I assume the reason you're in such a hurry is because you're on your way to charm school. Although I think you should ask for a refund as the lessons are clearly not working."

Ross smirked. "Seems you've got me beat on charm, dahling," he said in an over-the-top plummy accent. "Don't you have some horses to be riding or daddy's money to be spending?" He waved her off. "Run along, there's a good girl." Giving her one last look, he turned and walked away, still smirking.

Ollie watched him leave in utter disbelief. His bigoted, personal assumption of her was highly offensive and as for his rudeness...Maybe the tranquil little hamlet wasn't quite so perfect after all. As he swaggered down the road she glared after him, before making her way inside The Woolpack to join her sister and Lawrence.

* * * * * * * * * *

[Bleeding Love] COPYRIGHT. © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Debra Jay 2015



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