Hattie tried to reply but she didn’t know what to say. It all seemed very cryptic, but, then again, perhaps it wasn’t. Perhaps the answer to the conundrum was more obvious than she realised. Believe me, I know. Was he referring to his girlfriend? What had happened between them? Was that what he meant or was Hattie seeing a hidden meaning that just wasn’t there?
‘Anyway,’ he said, ‘I’d better go and take a look at Norbert.’
‘I’ll go with you. If you don’t mind, that is. You know he means a lot to me too.’
‘Be my guest. We’d better drive up; I’m a bit busy for leisurely walks today, even on your delightful farm.’
Hattie could have reminded him that it wasn’t her farm but she was certain that Jo would take the first opportunity to remind everyone of that fact anyway. Instead, she followed him out to the car and climbed into the passenger seat.
It was such a short journey to the top field by car that it was hard to believe that Hattie and Jo spent hours walking the donkeys up and down every day. Hattie had to admit that, even so, those times were her favourite parts of her working day. The donkeys seemed to enjoy the exercise and, occasionally, Jo would even engage in a little small talk with Hattie – nothing important, perhaps a comment on the weather forecast or what funny thing one of the donkeys had done that day, but Hattie liked it. She was always hopeful that it would lead to something more meaningful but, of course, it never did.
As they bumped along, Seth turned to Hattie.
‘Alright there?’
‘Yes.’
‘Are you sure about that? Something tells me you’re not.’
‘I’m just worried about Norbert.’
‘I’m sure Jo would have mentioned it to you if she thought it was something serious.’
‘I suppose so,’ Hattie said. ‘And I suppose he does have a habit of eating things he’s not supposed to.’
‘Exactly,’ Seth agreed. ‘Chances are he’s done just that. I know Jo keeps any plants she thinks might be poisonous clear from the enclosure so I’m sure there won’t be anything to worry about.’
Hattie could have pointed out that Jo wouldn’t have phoned him first thing if there wasn’t anything to worry about, but she appreciated that Seth was probably trying to put her at ease so she didn’t.
‘How long have you been in Gillypuddle?’ she asked instead.
‘About six months now. Are you happy to be back? Settling in again? It must be weird after Paris.’
‘It’s not so bad,’ Hattie said. ‘Things are a lot different than they were before I left though.’
‘How’s that?’
‘Well, I’m not living with my parents for a start.’
‘Oh, right. Your dad seems like a good man. Very smart. He used to be the GP?’
‘That’s how we ended up living here. He came to take the post before me and my sister were born and, after he retired, he and Mum decided to stay.’
‘You have a sister? I didn’t realise. Does she live here?’
‘She died when she was eighteen.’
‘Oh… I’m sorry.’
‘You weren’t to know. I don’t suppose anyone’s told you. People in this village gossip about just about everything but they don’t ever mention that. I suppose they feel they can’t, but it makes it seem sometimes like she never existed.’ Hattie shook herself. ‘Listen to me – as maudlin as they come today.’
‘Maudlin?’ He smiled. ‘That’s a good old-fashioned word. I don’t think there’s anything maudlin in remembering your sister.’
‘I understand why people are scared to mention her, though. Mum and Dad have never got over her death.’
‘What about you?’ he asked gently. She turned to him. He was wearing such a look of tender concern that all she wanted to do was throw herself into his arms. It wasn’t about sex appeal or attraction – though he had all of that – it was about finding someone who understood her. Something told her that Seth would be like that, that he’d understand her no matter how little she understood herself. His arms looked like a place she’d be safe.
‘I think about her a lot,’ Hattie said, tearing her gaze away and turning it onto the fields as they rolled by. ‘I don’t suppose our situation is any more special or difficult than anyone else’s though; I don’t think we deserve any special sympathy. Most people have sadness in their pasts once they’ve lived long enough. I’m sad about Charlotte, but I think we owe it to her to live where she couldn’t, to make the most of our good fortune. I think she’d want us to do that too.’
‘And you don’t think your parents see it that way?’ he said, instant understanding in his expression.
‘Sometimes I don’t think they do, no. Sometimes I think they still haven’t let go of her.’
‘Maybe they never will and maybe that’s no crime.’
‘You’re right; it’s not – I only lost my sister, but they lost their child. It’s no wonder they see it differently than me.’
‘I’m not trying to detract from your loss by saying that.’
‘I know. Anyway,’ she said, turning back to him, ‘that’s a long time ago and life goes on.’
‘It does that.’
‘Is there…’ Hattie paused. She wanted to ask about his past, about the rumours she’d heard, but the moment had come and she couldn’t. She didn’t want to ruin this now, the understanding he’d shown her, the recognition of something deeper than just acquaintance made through his work. She thought, in time, he was someone who could be a good friend and she didn’t want to jeopardise that by bringing up a bad memory that might become associated with this day and with Hattie herself. ‘Jo moved to Gillypuddle shortly after I left for Paris,’ she said instead.
‘So I believe.’
‘I don’t know where she lived before; I don’t think anyone does.’
‘She seems very private.’
‘So she’s never told you?’
‘No.’
‘Or about how she got involved with the sanctuary here? Or how she paid for the farm?’
‘No, but then it’s really nothing to do with me.’ He glanced at her. ‘She’s never told you any of this?’
‘She doesn’t tell me much at all.’
‘I’m surprised at that. She thinks a lot of you.’
‘She’s got a funny way of showing it sometimes.’
‘Maybe she just thinks she can ask of you what she can’t ask of others. Sometimes that’s the biggest compliment someone like her can give.’
‘You mean that because she bosses me around and hardly says two pleasant words it’s because she likes me? I’d hate to see her with someone she doesn’t like then.’
Seth gave a soft chuckle. ‘Trust me, she does.’
‘What makes you say that?’
‘You’re here, aren’t you? She lets you have access to her donkeys and not many people get that. She must think a lot of you.’
‘I suppose,’ Hattie said doubtfully.
‘You two make a good team. Those donkeys are lucky to have found homes here.’
‘I’m not very good at looking after them; there’s so much I need to know that I haven’t learned yet.’
‘But you care and that’s the most important thing. The knowledge and skill will follow in time.’
Seth slowed the car a few hundred yards from the paddock fencing and turned off the engine. Hattie wished the journey could have lasted a bit longer because she’d been enjoying their chat. It had been nice to talk to someone who was genuinely interested in Hattie’s emotional well-being. Jo didn’t care, Melinda was too busy to notice and her parents were too wrapped up in trying to push their own agenda. She felt like Seth would be someone who would always care. If the Gillypuddle gossip was right and his girlfriend really had left him to take up a research post in another country, then Hattie thought she might not be as clever as her education would suggest.
Jo was in the field when they got there, standing with Norbert, her face close to his and
talking softly to him. The other donkeys were milling around close by, sometimes coming to take a closer look at Norbert before wandering away again, but they never strayed far when Jo was around. Only Blue stayed close, seeming jittery, as if he knew something was wrong. As Seth and Hattie came in through the gate, Jo looked up and watched as they walked across the field towards her. If she was irked to see Hattie had turned up she didn’t show any signs of it; she was simply her distant self, although Hattie had to admit that that didn’t really tell her anything about her boss’s current mood.
‘Hello, fella,’ Seth said, rubbing a hand down Norbert’s shaggy nose. ‘What have you been up to now?’
Norbert did look under the weather. He’d always make a fuss of Hattie when he saw her, but today he simply stood in the middle of the field, barely reacting to her arrival at all. Seth turned to Jo.
‘What do you know?’
Jo put her hands up to Norbert’s neck and gave it a rub. ‘You can see for yourself he’s not as lively as he usually is. Doesn’t seem hungry at all – I came up with a pocket full of sugar beet and he’s not interested.’
‘He seemed fine last night,’ Hattie put in, and Jo looked coldly at her.
‘How would you know? You weren’t here last night.’
‘I didn’t leave for Melinda’s house until after eight.’
‘Then it wasn’t last night you saw him.’
‘So…’ Seth interrupted, ‘how long do you think this has been going on? Have you noticed anything before now?’
‘I wondered if he didn’t take a dip in form from time to time but I thought I was mistaken,’ Jo said. ‘I wish I’d called you now.’
‘Sometimes it’s hard to tell,’ Seth said kindly. ‘How are his stools?’
‘I’m not sure. He’s been with the others so it’s difficult to know which are his.’
Seth rolled up his sleeves and began to feel around Norbert’s abdomen.
‘Anything?’ Jo asked.
‘Not sure.’ He walked around to Norbert’s head and looked into his eyes and ears. Then he peeled back Norbert’s lips to look at his gums. The donkey barely flinched and usually he found anyone trying to prise his mouth open most offensive – Hattie knew this; she’d tried to rescue inappropriate foodstuffs from his mouth often enough.
‘Colic?’ Jo asked.
‘Could be.’
‘Like babies get?’ Hattie put in, and Jo shot her such a withering look that Hattie felt a sudden rush of anger, something she’d never felt for Jo before, even at her most exasperating moments. But Hattie was doing her best and it was constantly being thrown back in her face – surely Jo could see that eventually it would wear down any goodwill Hattie had for her? She’d successfully alienated the rest of the village. Was she actively trying to do the same with Hattie?
‘Not quite,’ Seth said patiently. Perhaps he’d seen something of Hattie’s mood in her expression because his tone was far more conciliatory. ‘It’s more serious than that in donkeys. It could be symptomatic of a big underlying problem and we need to get to the bottom of what that is.’
‘What sort of problems?’
‘It could be any number of things – I’d need to take a proper look to establish what’s going on. I might even need to hospitalise him.’ He looked at Jo. ‘Happy for me to do that?’
‘I’d be happier if you could treat him here,’ she said.
‘I’ll do what I can, but it might be too big and complicated in the end.’
She gave a grim nod. ‘Do what you have to.’
They all knew that what Seth was really asking was could Jo afford to hospitalise Norbert? And they all knew that the answer to that was a big fat no.
‘I’ll get my kit,’ Seth said.
Hattie watched him walk to his car. She turned to Jo, but Jo was watching him too and she didn’t even look at Hattie, though she must have been able to feel her eyes on her. So Hattie turned to Norbert, standing very still in the field, and she rubbed a hand along the scruffy teddy-bear fur of his neck while she tried very hard not to cry.
Chapter Twenty
Hattie knew when she wasn’t needed and, though she was worried about Norbert, she decided that Seth would be able to do his job better with Jo’s assistance. So she went to finish the list of chores Jo had given her that morning and when she’d done those she decided to wash the bed linen. The rain of the morning had cleared completely and now, although it wasn’t exactly a heatwave, it would dry her washing nicely.
She was hanging the sheets on a line at the far end of the courtyard when she noticed Seth’s car drive past the gate and away from the farm. She’d half hoped he might pull in and let her know how Norbert was, but she supposed that he would have expected Jo to do that and he probably had other patients to get to. Feeling a little let down anyway, she turned back to the washing line. Jo would probably stay up in the field for a while yet so she might as well keep busy for now. Later, she decided, they would have to talk about the argument they’d had that morning, whether Jo liked it or not. It wasn’t healthy to let it fester and they needed to clear the air.
She’d just turned back to the washing when her phone rang. She dug into her jeans pocket.
‘Dad?’
It was rare for Hattie’s father to call out of the blue, even rarer during the daytime.
‘What’s wrong?’ she asked.
‘Nothing’s wrong? I can’t call you unless something’s wrong?’
Hattie smiled. ‘Of course not.’
‘I just wondered if you’d checked the charity page we set up together for Sweet Briar?’
‘I meant to this morning but I haven’t had time. Why?’
‘I think you should look when you can; I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.’
‘There’s been more donations?’
‘Yes.’
‘That’s brilliant! How many? Are they decent amounts? Are we finally on our way?’
‘I’d say you are,’ Nigel said with a chuckle. ‘Go and look when you have a minute. There’s one in particular that you’ll be very pleased with.’
‘Will I?’
‘Oh yes.’
‘Is it big?’
‘Fairly.’ Nigel chuckled again and Hattie could tell by his playful tone that he was trying not to spoil what might be a nice surprise.
‘Oh, how much?’
‘I’m not telling you; go and look!’
‘I will!’
But then a thought occurred to her. ‘Dad…’ she said sternly. ‘This donation… it doesn’t have anything to do with you, does it?’
‘Why would you think that?’
‘Well, why were you checking the page? You didn’t need to.’
‘I was just curious.’
‘Are you sure? I don’t recall you ever being just curious about anything.’
‘Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think. I get curious. It was curiosity that made me study medicine.’
‘Alright then, you haven’t been curious since 1965.’
‘Cheeky!’
Hattie laughed. ‘So this donation has absolutely nothing to do with you?’
‘I still don’t know why you’d think it would be down to me.’
‘I don’t know… to make me feel better about what a terrible failure it’s been so far?’
‘I’m not silly enough to think that I could sneak that past you. I can assure you that it’s nothing to do with me.’
‘Hmm. Well, in that case, thank you for letting me know about it – I’ll take a look later.’
‘Oh, and your mother says I need to ask when you’re coming to see us. She says she wants to know about that journalist fellow.’
‘Journalist? How did…’ Hattie let out an exasperated sigh. ‘Melinda?’
‘She might have mentioned it when we saw her in the village yesterday.’
‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, Dad. It’s just that I’ve only had one date with him so it didn’t seem worth menti
oning yet.’
‘That’s what I told your mother. You’ll come down anyway?’
‘I’ll try. Can I get back to you on the arrangements? I’m kind of up to my eyes in it right now but I promise to try to get over soon.’
‘I hope you keep that promise. Your mother says we saw more of you when you lived in Paris.’
‘I don’t think that’s true.’ Hattie laughed. ‘I’ll try to make it one evening this week then.’
‘That’s good – I’ll tell her.’ Nigel paused, and in the pause Hattie heard uncertainty. ‘Is everything still going well for you?’ he asked finally. ‘Your mother got the impression from Melinda that you might have some regrets about your move up to Sweet Briar, and—’
‘It’s fine, Dad,’ Hattie said. She wasn’t about to tell him what had happened that day, or how wretched she’d felt since, otherwise he’d be driving up there, bundling her into his car and locking her in her old bedroom at home until she agreed not to go back. She knew he would have acted from love but she still wanted to make her own decisions, no matter how wrong they might turn out to be or how much he disagreed with them.
‘But if there was anything…’ he continued.
‘I’d tell you,’ Hattie said. ‘Dad…’ she added, another thought occurring to her, ‘do you know much about Jo from before she arrived in Gillypuddle?’
‘Nobody does,’ he said. ‘I think that, and her harsh ways, is what makes everyone so suspicious. Why do you ask?’
‘Oh, no reason – just curious,’ she said brightly. ‘So I’ll call you about coming over.’
‘Good – don’t forget.’
‘I won’t. Bye, Dad. Thanks for calling.’
‘And don’t forget to look at your page later.’
‘I won’t.’
Hattie put her phone away. She’d finish what she was doing, go to see how Norbert was and check if Jo wanted any help bringing the donkeys down to bed, and then she’d look at the page. And maybe she’d start to do a bit of digging too. Why didn’t anyone know about Jo’s past? Why was she so secretive; what did she have to hide? And who was Jenny?
Hattie's Home for Broken Hearts: A heartwarming laugh out loud romantic comedy Page 18
