Hattie's Home for Broken Hearts: A heartwarming laugh out loud romantic comedy

by Tilly Tennant

  ‘No idea,’ Melinda said absently. ‘She doesn’t tell anyone anything.’

  ‘I’ll bet it was an inheritance,’ Lance said sagely. ‘It’s how most of us get money, isn’t it?’

  Hattie blinked. ‘Is it?’

  ‘I suppose she could have borrowed it,’ Melinda said.

  ‘Yes,’ Hattie replied, ‘but who would lend money to someone to start a donkey farm?’

  Melinda shrugged. ‘I didn’t say that was the answer; I was just saying it’s a possibility.’

  ‘She could have stolen it. A huge big heist,’ Lance said with a wicked grin at Melinda. ‘Perhaps she’s a fugitive and that’s why she doesn’t let anyone go up there.’

  ‘Yes! Or maybe she did some elderly relative in to get their money.’

  Hattie sighed, though she couldn’t bring herself to feel annoyed. ‘You two are impossible.’

  ‘I just hope you don’t set fire to her gothic drapes – she’d skin you and feed you to her donkeys,’ Melinda said.

  ‘She can’t be that bad,’ Hattie insisted.

  ‘Daffodil bursts into tears every time she sees her.’

  Hattie frowned. ‘I’m sure it will be fine.’

  ‘I’m sure it will,’ Melinda said serenely as she went back to her cake. Lance left them to serve a customer at the counter because Mark was now talking to Melinda’s children in the toy corner. But then Melinda spoke again. ‘Have you told your parents yet?’ she asked, her tone still casual but loaded with meaning nonetheless.

  ‘I haven’t had the opportunity yet.’

  ‘But you think they’ll be OK with it?’

  ‘I’m sure they will. And even if they’re not, I’m an adult now so they can hardly stop me taking a job if I want to.’

  ‘Oh, but they know how to complain, though, don’t they?’

  Hattie dug into her own cake and shoved a wedge into her mouth. ‘They know how to do that alright,’ she said as she chewed. ‘World champion complainers.’

  ‘I suppose you’ll just have to be world champion at not listening then,’ Melinda said innocently. They both knew the not-listening thing was harder than it seemed. Melinda had been friends with Hattie for years and even she’d been on the receiving end of Nigel or Rhonda’s – or even both their – displeasure on occasion during that time. It had usually happened when Hattie had got into trouble and her parents had decided it had been Melinda’s fault.

  Melinda pushed her plate away with a contented sigh. ‘So good!’

  ‘I don’t know how you stay so slim,’ Hattie said. ‘You inhaled that cake.’

  ‘I run around after four kids all day, that’s how.’ Melinda reached into the pushchair and unfastened a now restless Daffodil to sit on her lap.

  ‘She’s so cute,’ Hattie said. ‘The absolute image of you.’

  ‘Everyone says that.’ Melinda smoothed Daffodil’s curls from her forehead. ‘Stu hates that none of them look like him.’ She turned to Daffodil again, kissing her lightly on the head. ‘But we all know that’s a blessing, don’t we?’ she cooed.

  ‘I think Stu would probably agree if it came to it,’ Hattie said with a smile. ‘How is he anyway?’

  ‘Good,’ Melinda said. ‘Working too hard but there’s no change there.’

  ‘And you’ve finished now?’ Hattie asked with a meaningful nod at Melinda’s children playing over in the corner.

  ‘Finished?’

  ‘Having kids. Surely you’ve got that covered now?’

  Melinda grinned. ‘I do say that after every one. But then they start to grow up and I think, maybe just one more. I don’t think you can ever have enough really, but there’s a limit to your time and money that even I have to acknowledge. So, I think enough for now but I never say never, and I’ve got plenty of years left to change my mind.’

  ‘I think you might have earned a break.’

  ‘When the big ones are older it’d be easier to have another baby because they’d be able to help a little.’

  Hattie shook her head with a wry smile. By the look on Melinda’s face, she wondered whether she and Stu weren’t already hard at work on baby number five, despite what she’d just said. She supposed she’d find out soon enough – Melinda and Stu were about the most fertile couple in Britain and if they were trying for another baby it probably wouldn’t take them long to conceive.

  ‘You still don’t fancy motherhood?’ Melinda asked serenely. ‘I can recommend it.’

  ‘That’s because you’re good at it. Besides, I’d need a man first.’

  ‘You haven’t left anyone behind in Paris then? No hot-to-trot Frenchman whispering “Je t’aime” in your ear? Nobody after the dreaded Bertrand?’

  ‘The men I met mostly shouted rather than whispered. And it was usually “Out of my way” when they were trying to push in front of me on the Metro. And they weren’t even hot. So there was nobody waiting to mend my broken heart after Bertrand, but really, I wasn’t all that bothered anyway. You get burnt by one dodgy Frenchman and they all look a bit dodgy after that.’

  ‘Well, that’s disappointing. I don’t think I’ll bother visiting Paris then.’

  ‘I don’t think you need to visit Paris if you’re only going to look for a man to father children,’ Hattie laughed. ‘I think you’ve got that well and truly covered. Leave poor Paris alone – what’s it ever done to you?’

  Melinda giggled. ‘How rude! As you’re free, I can give you the inside info on the very yummy new vet at Castle House practice. Although, after that last insult I’m not sure you deserve my inside information.’

  ‘Come on – spill!’

  ‘Well, he’s a new vet…’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And he’s very yummy.’

  ‘That’s it?’ Hattie crossed her arms in mock annoyance. ‘That’s your insider information? How old is he? What does he look like? Is he single?’

  ‘I don’t know how old he is and I think he might be single. He looks like that man who does the history programmes.’

  Hattie looked at her blankly.

  ‘You know,’ Melinda said, ‘the Scottish one.’

  ‘I haven’t been watching a lot of British television in Paris and what I have seen certainly hasn’t been about history. I have no idea who this man is.’

  Melinda pulled out her phone and typed something into a search page. She turned the screen to Hattie to show a selection of images of the man she was talking about. In most of them he was wearing a forest-green corduroy jacket with brown elbow patches teamed with a pair of jeans and heavy walking boots, dark silky hair resting on his shoulders and pushed back from his face, or sometimes tied in a ponytail at his neck.

  Hattie burst out laughing. ‘Are you serious?’

  ‘I think he’s good-looking,’ Melinda said defensively.

  ‘Have you seen his hair?’

  ‘I think long hair looks good on some men.’ Melinda snatched away the phone and locked the screen. ‘I wish I hadn’t shown you now.’

  ‘You think he’s attractive?’ Hattie asked. ‘But he looks nothing like Stu…’

  ‘That doesn’t mean anything. I’m not saying I’d marry him or anything. I’m just saying that if I was single I wouldn’t kick him out of bed for eating crackers – that’s all.’

  Hattie grinned. ‘I’m sorry. It’s not that I don’t appreciate the heads-up but I really don’t think your vet sounds like my type.’

  ‘Well, that’s all I’ve got, I’m afraid. If you’re going to be that fussy then you’re going to have to look a lot further afield than Gillypuddle. Apart from the new vet there’s only one other eligible bachelor and he’s got BO that could cut cheese.’

  ‘Bobby Wye?’

  ‘See – some smells just haunt you forever.’

  ‘I’ll bear it in mind if I ever get my sense of smell removed. I appreciate your concern, but I don’t see me meeting my very own Stu any time soon.’

  ‘You’re not going to find him when you’re being
so fussy.’

  ‘I don’t think turning down a walking cesspit and Mr Corduroy Jacket is being fussy. Besides, I’m not going to worry about it – I’ve got bigger fish to fry. Like what I’m going to do with the rest of my life now that I’m home from Paris.’

  ‘I suppose I can see why that might be a little concerning,’ Melinda said with a solemn nod. Daffodil was trying to prise the phone out of her hand so she lifted it out of reach, prompting a petulant squeal from the toddler that momentarily had the entire café – including Daffodil’s siblings – turning to look. But everyone soon decided that their own affairs were more important – including Daffodil’s siblings, who were very probably used to her tantrums – and went back to their own business while Melinda dug into the changing bag for a doll for Daffodil to play with.

  To Hattie, watching Melinda care for her children was like watching a swan glide across a lake. Her friend made motherhood look so effortless, and yet every minute of every day she had to be frantically paddling beneath the surface just to keep the barest order. Life was no easier or better for her than anyone else, but she seemed to make it look so. Hattie had never been very good at hiding the frantic activity beneath the surface where her own life was concerned – when things were going awry everyone could see the desperate paddling to stay afloat.

  ‘So, what is it you’ll be doing for Jo Flint?’ Melinda asked.

  ‘I don’t know exactly – something to do with her donkeys.’

  ‘That’s one thing I do have to give her. People around here find her difficult but they would help if she asked because it’s for a very good cause. She just doesn’t give anyone a reason to offer.’

  ‘But they’d want to help if they were allowed?’

  Melinda shrugged. ‘It’s hard to say. People have busy lives and, even though they love the idea of what she’s doing, nobody wants to give their precious time to someone who’s so ungrateful.’

  ‘Maybe she’ll turn out to be different than everyone thinks. I suppose I’ll find out when I get to know her.’

  ‘Well, good luck with that because we’ve been trying to get to know her for two years and we’re still no further on than when she arrived.’

  ‘But she took me on so she’s not completely averse to company.’

  ‘All I can say is that she must really be desperate for help around the place.’

  Hattie raised her eyebrows. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘You know what I mean.’ Melinda laughed. ‘You’re a better woman than most round here for trying to make friends with her.’

  ‘I’ve got to do more than make friends with her – I’ve got to live with her.’

  Melinda’s eyes widened. ‘What?’

  ‘She said she needed someone twenty-four-seven. She says donkeys need someone there all the time so she’d only give me the job if I agreed to live on site.’

  ‘She’s there all the time! Why do you have to be?’

  ‘Maybe she’s sick of being there alone all the time. Maybe it’s a cry for help. Maybe it’s her way of telling the world she needs company.’

  ‘It’s a funny way to go about it,’ Melinda said doubtfully. ‘If she wanted company she could just come down to the village every now and again and she’d have all the company she needed.’

  Hattie nodded. She was forced to agree with Melinda on that point, but there had to be more to it. Maybe there was something else going on, some deep trauma, something that made Jo nervous of human company. Yes, Hattie decided, that had to be it.

  Chapter Eight

  Nigel didn’t need to rant – the disappointment was plain enough on his face. Even Rhonda looked bitterly let down and she often tended towards the more tolerant position where Hattie was concerned.

  ‘What on earth would you want to do that for?’ she asked now, shaking her head in disbelief.

  ‘I know you think it’s a terrible job, but sometimes jobs are about more than money. Like nurses and carers. This is a caring role, isn’t it? I just think it will be good for my spiritual fulfilment…’

  Spiritual fulfilment. Even Hattie thought that sounded ridiculous but it had come out anyway. Clearly her mother and father agreed, and Rhonda repeated the phrase, looking blank.

  ‘You know,’ Hattie struggled on valiantly though she knew her argument was going nowhere, ‘working to care for animals without any of the trappings of luxury I have here…’

  ‘It’s hardly Médecins Sans Frontières,’ Nigel said haughtily. ‘And this excuse for your current madness is only marginally better than the excuse you gave us last time you suffered a bout of temporary insanity.’

  ‘I’ve never suffered temporary insanity,’ Hattie replied, her own patience fraying a little at the edges now. She was trying to ignore the quiet voice in her head that was telling her that, even though she disagreed outwardly, her dad might have a bit of a point. Sometimes, it was possible she gave way to spontaneity just a little too easily.

  ‘What do you call running away to Paris?’ he asked. ‘And that time you were learning to stand on your own feet or some such nonsense. You could have done that by finishing your education and embarking on a worthwhile career.’

  ‘I told you I didn’t want to do any of that.’

  ‘Your father and I have done a lot of things over the years we haven’t wanted to do,’ Rhonda put in. ‘It’s called being an adult.’

  ‘I am an adult,’ Hattie replied testily. Why did everything have to be their way? Why couldn’t they accept that not everyone embraced their vision of what a successful and happy life looked like? ‘At least, I could be an adult if you treated me like one.’

  ‘We just feel that your choices are sometimes…’

  ‘You deliberately set out to rebel like some silly teenager,’ Nigel finished for his wife. ‘If you insist on acting that way then how else are we supposed to treat you?’

  ‘I’ve never set out to rebel,’ Hattie said. ‘I mean, I suppose sometimes it just happened that it might look that way, but I’ve never done any of it to hurt you. I just need—’

  ‘We only want you to make the right decisions,’ Rhonda said gently.

  ‘I am making the right decisions! I’m making the right decisions regardless of whether they seem bad or good because they’re my decisions – that’s what makes them right. They’re my choices, made for me by me, and they feel right to me.’

  Nigel fired a look of exasperation at Rhonda, but she simply gave a heavy sigh.

  ‘I suppose we can hardly stop you from going.’

  Hattie relaxed. She was sure they’d come around eventually, even though it didn’t look that way now. She hated to be at loggerheads with her parents, who only wanted what they thought was best, but they had to start accepting that what they thought was best for her wasn’t always what she felt was best for her, and it was her life, after all. She knew they wanted another Charlotte, but she’d never pretended she could be that for them and she wasn’t about to start now. She just wished they’d stop trying to interfere all the time and accept her choices more readily. Melinda’s parents had never made any secret of the fact that they’d considered her and Stu too young to marry and that they thought the couple were taking on too many children at once. But they’d never tried to interfere so forcefully and, once the choices had been made by Melinda and Stu, they’d supported them fully, no matter what they might have said on the matter. That was all Hattie was asking for from her own parents. She didn’t want to seem ungrateful, of course. Materially, she’d had everything she could ever want from them, but money and comfort weren’t everything.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘I need to get my stuff packed then.’

  ‘How are you going to get it all up to Sweet Briar without transport?’ Rhonda asked.

  Hattie looked sheepish because she knew her reply was going to be a cheeky one, especially given the conversation they’d just had.

  ‘I was hoping you might be able to drive me up in the Range Rover?’

  At thi
s, Nigel stalked off, making his feelings on the request very clear.

  ‘I suppose I could take you,’ Rhonda said wearily. Hattie had often felt sorry for her mother over the years. She was caught between wanting to make her only surviving daughter happy and her agreement – at least in part – with her husband’s stance on the matter of Hattie’s life choices. It must have been hard when she was forced to take sides in an argument she wasn’t entirely certain of herself.

  ‘I could pop next door and ask Rupert if it’s a problem…’ Hattie began. ‘Or Stu might be able—’

  Rhonda shook her head. ‘Of course not. I’ll take you. When do you want to go?’

  ‘Give me an hour or so to get some things together?’

  Rhonda nodded. Without another word, she went through to the conservatory – presumably to find her husband and smooth some ruffled feathers – which left Hattie, feeling partly guilty but also relieved that the conversation was out of the way, to go and finish packing.

  Hattie sat in the passenger seat of the Range Rover, arms wrapped around the overnight bag on her lap.

  ‘Thanks, Mum – I really do appreciate this.’

  ‘There’s no need to thank me again,’ Rhonda said briskly. ‘It’s no bother – it’s not all that far to Sweet Briar Farm.’

  ‘I don’t mean the distance or the inconvenience,’ Hattie said. ‘I mean for not siding with Dad on this.’

  ‘What makes you think I haven’t sided with him? Frankly, I think he makes a very good point even if I might not agree entirely with the way he makes it. I just don’t see how we’re supposed to stop you from doing what you want to do and I don’t think being deliberately obstructive is helpful.’

  ‘I don’t mean to make things difficult.’

  Rhonda gave a tight smile. ‘I know.’

  ‘I just can’t be something I’m not – even for you or Dad.’

  ‘You’ve never been good at taking advice, even as a little girl – we should have realised by now that you’re never going to be good at it; it’s been going on for long enough.’