Hattie Goes to Hollywood: Shenanigans, fun & intrigue in a new mystery series!

by Caroline James

  Hattie stood and stretched. She was hungry, having only nibbled on the meagre supplies in her cupboards. She thought about Reggie and felt a wave of guilt. He really hadn’t deserved her off-handedness that morning. Reggie had always treated her well and perhaps a holiday wasn’t such a bad idea. If she made it clear that they were travelling as companions who were just friends, maybe a break would do them both good. Time away might do her good and she would return with renewed interest and answers.

  Yes, Reggie was right, Hattie thought, she must be mad to have turned him down so abruptly. Deciding to kill two birds with one stone, Hattie made her mind up. She would satisfy her hunger over dinner in the pub and say ‘yes’ to Reggie’s holiday idea.

  Taking the stairs slowly, Hattie reached her bedroom and drew back the curtains. Thick, cloying air seemed stagnant in the room; there was no breeze and Hattie wondered if they were in for a storm. She never listened to the news but as she looked out, she wondered if she should have checked on the weather. The clouds were now a molten silver as if preparing for a downfall but as Hattie showered and dressed, she thought that the weather would probably pass. After all, Alf would have told her if she needed to batten down the hatches; he was a walking weatherman and harbinger of doom, should a drop of rain threaten.

  Hattie dried and styled her hair and applied what make-up she could. Her skin was clammy, despite her shower. She applied a coat of lipstick and sprayed her body with perfume and deciding that she was the best that she could be, given the furnace-like conditions, grabbed her bag and set off for the village.

  She walked slowly across the green. It was a perfect evening, despite the heat and Drake followed behind. ‘Get off with you,’ Hattie told her duck, ‘you have a family to protect, go home.’ But Drake was oblivious and waddled his way alongside her.

  The pub was busy, as Hattie had anticipated, and she wondered if Reggie needed a hand. But as she reached the bar, she could see that it was fully staffed, though Reggie was nowhere to be seen. There was a new barmaid dispensing drinks and she wasn’t familiar to Hattie. She didn’t recognise the pretty woman who smiled and chatted to customers as she served them.

  Hattie picked up a menu and, making her choice, ordered a drink with her food. She looked around for somewhere to sit and with every table occupied inside, she went out to the garden and sat down at a bench. Reggie didn’t come out and when the barmaid bought Hattie’s food, Hattie asked if the landlord was about.

  ‘No, sorry, he’s not,’ the barmaid said as she put Hattie’s dinner on a mat on the table. She stood back and looked at her nails, admiring the pearly pink polish. ‘He’s gone away, I don’t know where but I’m a relief manager from the brewery and he’s asked me to cover the pub for a couple of weeks.’ Her smile was sweet and her lovely face attractive. She smoothed her hands over her slim body and said, ‘My name’s Elaine, did you want to speak to him? I have his mobile number.’

  I bet you do! Hattie thought angrily. Damn! Reggie certainly hadn’t wasted any time in sorting out his holiday and without so much as telling Hattie what was going on, he’d packed a case and left, within hours of their conversation.

  ‘I’m on my own, since my husband passed on.’ Elaine seemed to be making a point. ‘He was much older than me.’

  ‘How sad, I’m sorry to hear that.’ Hattie wasn’t, but she decided to be pleasant.

  ‘Yes, he passed on to Bridlington and is running a social club there.’

  ‘Oh, very nice.’

  ‘Gives me my freedom, we’re getting a divorce.’

  ‘You must get lonely.’

  ‘Not really, I like doing relief management, but I’d like to stay on when the owner gets back.’ She smiled and raised her eyebrows. ‘He’s a bit of dish, the owner.’

  ‘Reggie?’ Hattie asked.

  ‘Yes, I wouldn’t mind a full-time job here, to be honest.’

  ‘Well, you could always ask him.’ Hattie picked up her knife and fork, willing the woman to go away.

  ‘Oh, I intend to,’ and with a wink, Elaine turned and walked away.

  Hattie picked at her meal and felt annoyed with herself. What did she expect? She hadn’t given Reggie any encouragement and had knocked him back whenever he’d indicated that he couldn’t hide his feelings. Now there was a replacement, at least ten years her junior, waiting in the wings, and by the look of things, she would be stepping into Hattie’s shoes before Reggie had time to unpack his suitcase.

  Disgruntled, she pushed her plate to one side and finished her drink. There wasn’t much point in hanging around here, she may as well walk back to her cottage and, settling her bill at the bar, Hattie nodded curtly to the new barmaid.

  As she stepped out of the pub, she saw Drake. He was on the grass, scratching about for titbits amongst the tables of diners. ‘Come on, old son,’ Hattie said, ‘let’s get you back on your pond with your family.’ She wiped the perspiration from her face with a hanky. ‘It’s cooler there and I might just get in the water with you.’

  They set off together, walking slowly through the village. The sky had darkened, and trees creaked as the wind began to pick up. Hattie felt like she was wading through treacle. The air was thick and as she glanced at Drake, she wondered if the duck was finding it hard going too.

  ‘A storm is going to break!’ a voice called out and Hattie looked up to see Joan standing on the pavement outside her shop. She was dressed in a gigantic playsuit and her hair was rolled into large curlers. ‘Just heard it on the news,’ she said. ‘There’s a weather warning out for the county and it’s advised not to go out of your house for the next few hours.’ Joan’s thighs quivered as she rocked on the balls of her feet, her fluffy pink slippers no protection from the rain that was about to come.

  ‘You’d better go in then, and settle down,’ Hattie replied.

  ‘I’m helping Arnie with the shutters.’

  Arnie had appeared. He wore a plastic dustbin bag over his clothes and stared at Hattie.

  ‘Evening, Arnie,’ Hattie said, not expecting a reply. ‘You’re dressed for the weather.’

  Arnie turned away. He placed his fingers on the edge of a metal shutter and pulled it down with a crash. It covered the front of the shop, protecting the glass from anything that might be blown against it.

  ‘Did you hear about Nancy?’ Joan yelled. The wind had announced its arrival and begun to blow hard and Hattie had to strain to catch her words.

  ‘Eh?’ Hattie shouted back. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘She’s been arrested! The Old Bill caught up with her in Wales!’

  Arnie had opened the door of the shop and, taking Joan’s shoulder, began to bustle her in. Joan waved a pudgy arm and grinned as she disappeared through the doorway and Arnie gazed out at Hattie, as he stared through the glass and locked up.

  ‘Bloody hell!’ Hattie muttered as the first drop of rain fell and bounced off her face. She wondered what Nancy had been charged with and determined to call Harry as soon as she got home.

  Suddenly, a flash of lightning lit up the sky and Drake began to quack. Alarmed, Hattie felt as though she was going to jump out of her skin as the sky grew dark and thunder rolled overhead. She grabbed her bag and tucked it under her arm and, with her head down, began to run. ‘Come on, Drake,’ she called out, but her words were lost by an oppressive boom, tumbling towards her. The sky was now charcoal as more thunder cracked the air and, despite her laboured breath, Hattie ran on. Rain cascaded from the sky and Hattie’s dress clung to her body as Drake raced ahead, flapping his wings as he guided Hattie through the almost opaque deluge of water. They turned into Lover’s Lane which was awash with drains gurgling and gutters overflowing. Hattie battled on to reach her cottage and was about to open the gate when she realised that Drake had stopped. He flapped his wings with more fury and hopped up and down.

  ‘Come on, you daft duck!’ Hattie shouted. ‘Stop mucking about!’

  But Drake refused to follow her and, as he waddled back
and forth, Hattie realised that he was trying to guide her to something in the lane.

  ‘What is it, old fella?’ Hattie wiped sodden hair away from her eyes. ‘What are you trying to tell me?’ She squinted through the blinding rain. Something was lying on the pavement, by the wall on the opposite side of the lane. Dear God! Hattie’s heart hammered as her eyes began to focus. It was a body! She threw her bag over the cottage wall and, taking a deep breath, raced through the torrent of water surging along the road.

  ‘Oh, my good grief!’ Hattie called out as she reached the heaving shape, lying half-propped against the wall. ‘Penny, whatever are you doing out here?’ It didn’t take Hattie a moment to realise that the girl was in labour and if they weren’t careful was about to pop a baby out at any moment.

  ‘Come on, my precious,’ Hattie said and, putting her arms under Penny’s shoulders, lifted the young woman to a standing position. Out of nowhere, Hattie found the strength to lift Penny into her arms and stagger across the lane. She kicked at the gate of the garden and, with buckling legs, teetered to the door. In moments, she had laid Penny on the sofa in the conservatory and was gripping both her hands.

  ‘Now, my lovely, I’m just going to make a phone call and I want you to be very brave and hold on here.’ ‘Agh!’ Penny shouted; her face contorted in pain. Her contractions were building, and she began to scream.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ Hattie whispered and, as white-hot lightning split the sky and rain battered the conservatory roof, she knew that no one was going to reach them in time. With the storm raging, the roads were probably blocked. She wracked her brains to try and remember what to do in such an emergency and soon a distant memory of the births of her own two sons became clear. Hattie took a deep breath and composed herself. ‘Now try and concentrate and remember your breathing exercises,’ she said and held Penny’s hand as the young woman gripped hard.

  Having calmed the young mum, Hattie broke away and searched around the cottage for towels and anything she could think of to help with the birth.

  But in moments Penny’s labour had intensified and, knowing that she would have her work cut out to save this child, Hattie strove on.

  JOHN HARGREAVES STOOD at the cocktail bar in his lavish lounge and poured himself a glass of brandy. Outside, wind buffeted against the glass panes of the floor to ceiling windows and, despite triple glazing, the extreme weather shook the very core of the old Victorian house and the structure seemed to rock with each new raging gust.

  John gulped his brandy and felt the expensive cognac warm his throat, but it did little to ease the tension in his body. He was drinking the second half of a bottle that had cost over three hundred pounds and, as he poured more, he knew that he fully intended to finish it. In this unforeseen squall, everything outside felt as though it was tumbling down. The weather forecasters had got it wrong and hadn’t predicted a storm of this magnitude and emergency services were no doubt struggling to cope with the volume of calls that would be flooding in.

  John’s life too, was tumbling down.

  On the smooth marble surface of the bar, a neatly typed two-page letter was open. The letter had been delivered by courier, earlier that day. John had begun to read the content, but the words had blurred and as he reached out to take the letter again his hands shook, and his knees buckled. He suddenly felt as though he was unable to take his weight and, grabbing the brandy bottle, stumbled to a chair.

  John felt cold all over. He took a deep breath and fumbled with the paper balled in his hand. Straightening it out on his knee, he read on. The words were to the point and explanatory, spelling out in no uncertain terms a course of action that had already begun.

  Venetia had left him and from the detail of her letter, had been planning it for some time.

  My dearest John,

  By the time you read this, I will have been away “visiting friends” for several days. Had you taken any interest, or enquired who the friends were, you would have realised that their existence is imaginary. I am not in Suffolk, riding horses along the downs, nor am I sipping cocktails in a country house with a group of long-standing acquaintances from college. Oddly, it has never come to your attention that my passport has been used on a very regular basis over the past year and I am, at this moment, at our home in Spain. Correction - my home in Spain. In all your frantic efforts to put our properties in your name, you missed this one and I own the villa outright. Having had it valued recently, I am pleased to say that our Spanish investment, unmortgaged, is now worth over two million pounds.

  My concerns were first alerted when we had a robbery at our Penrith property and some of my jewellery went missing. The bungled attempt at a break-in didn’t make sense. You foolishly hid certain items in the safe in your office, unaware that I have always known the combination. No doubt the precious family heirlooms raised much needed cash. But from that day I too began to plan my exit from our loveless relationship.

  For some time, a gentleman named Victor Manning has been following you. It has been an expensive exercise for me, to pay a private detective to keep a trace on my husband, but Daddy, despite his frailty, has helped with all the costs. I must say that you should consider being more discreet with your extramarital affairs; it was so easy for Victor to compile the photographs and files that you will find in a manila envelope on your desk. I had hoped that your tastes were of a higher standard than Nancy, but I understand why you persisted in courting her. How sad that she won’t be able to help you refinance your properties. As I write, I have no doubt that Nancy will be in police custody.

  For you see, Victor has been tailing Nancy too.

  As your world begins to topple down, spare a thought for Camilla. I’m unsure of the reason why she is so angry with life, but I am certain that you are behind her pain. Help her in any way that you can through the difficulties that she is facing.

  And also, do the decent thing with Marjorie. Find a sum of money to ease her into a life without Barry. Whatever happened to your Operations Director was a tragedy but one that we may never know the answer to. He was a loyal employee, do the right thing.

  I’m glad that we never had a family.

  When I saw you walk away from the cries of two children who’d fallen into a pond, at the village pub, I knew what a cold and callous man you’d become.

  A removal company will be at the house in the next few days. Don’t try and change the locks. I know how heavily the house has been mortgaged to fund your wasteful projects and as you have no cash flow, the bank will soon step in. As the majority shareholder of Castle Care Communities, I have agreed to a take-over by one of your competitors. The purchase price will only just cover the debts and they are aware that the business is haemorrhaging money, but their financial forensic team know that this is because you have used it as a cash cow for your lavish lifestyle and poor property investments. They will take over in the next few days and you will be ousted as MD.

  My jewellery and most of my clothes are already here in Spain; I’ve had them sent by airfreight over the last few months. Had you cared, you would have noticed.

  I have begun proceedings for divorce and suggest that we get it over with quickly. You will soon be very short of funds, but my assets are completely protected. Victor has been terribly helpful, especially when you’ve been at work or in a liaison with your female friends.

  Watch your back, dear John; despite my growing fondness for Victor, he is still in my employ.

  Venetia.

  As John read Venetia’s words, his eyes blurred, and fat tears fell on the paper in his hand. He knocked back the remains of the bottle of brandy and, as he fell into a confused stupor, his last conscious thoughts were of a faraway island, tropical music and swaying palms. A paradise that he’d planned for, but now would never see.

  31

  Hattie was in a terrible lather. Try as she might to stay calm and help the young mother through her labour, as time went by, she was finding it harder to cope.

  The c
ontractions had slowed, giving Hattie time to reassure Penny and soothe the exhausted girl and, in between bouts, Hattie had called for an ambulance. The operator told her that one was on its way, but a tree was down on the main Penrith bypass and what traffic was out on the roads was backed up for nearly a mile. Kendal was the next option but the emergency crews there too were struggling with blocked roads and flooding.

  The storm hadn’t abated, and wind and rain still howled outside.

  Hattie made them both a cup of sweet tea and, finding the remains of a loaf of bread, cut a slice and toasted it. ‘Now try and have a sip of tea and a bite of toast,’ she said to Penny as she sat down beside her and held the warm drink to her lips. ‘We need to keep you nourished, that little one won’t make its way into the world if Mum is tired.’

  Penny groaned and lay back on the sofa and Hattie mopped at her forehead with a cold damp towel. They’d been at it for nearly two hours and Hattie hadn’t a clue what to expect next. To say that she was anxious was an understatement. She’d tried to keep Penny comfortable and engaged her in conversation to take her mind off things. But now, Penny seemed to be drifting off into another pain-filled world.

  ‘Where is that daft lump of a vicar?’ Hattie cursed to herself as she held Penny’s hand and muttered soothing words.

  Hattie had found Penny’s mobile phone and tried Roger’s number, but the call rang out and in desperation she’d left a message, telling him to call her as soon as he picked it up. Penny’s phone had rung a little while later and a woman asked Hattie whether Penny would be coming for Josh and Hannah? The woman was worried that she’d not heard from Penny and the children wanted to know where their mum was. Hattie explained the dire situation and the woman, named Jill, who ran the church group, said that she would take care of the little ones. She also reassured Hattie that the sit-knit-and-chit ladies would all be praying for the safe arrival of a new baby brother or sister for Josh and Hannah. The good Lord would guide Penny on her way. Would Hattie let Jill know as soon as there was any news?