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

by Tilly Tennant

  ‘Whenever you’re ready.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  Hattie looked at Norbert. They’d got this massive donation, but all the money in the world was no good if they couldn’t help him.

  ‘I’ll do what I can,’ Seth said, perhaps following her train of thought.

  ‘I know – I just hate to see him like this.’

  ‘He’s a tough old character so that’s a good start.’

  Hattie nodded.

  ‘Right,’ he said, springing into action again, ‘I’d better finish my examination and then I’d better talk to Jo.’

  Hattie hadn’t much felt like going out on a date, but when she’d told Melinda that she was thinking of cancelling her plans with Owen, her friend told her in no uncertain terms that she was to do no such thing. Melinda was sure that Hattie needed something to take her mind off Norbert, who had been taken away from Sweet Briar for more tests and to try to get his symptoms under control. Blue was already beginning to pine for his best friend, and Hattie was often greeted with the heartbreaking sight of him wandering the field like a lost soul or staring out to sea as if expecting to find Norbert there. Jo seemed to be more closed than ever before, and Hattie was now attuned to listening out for her violent nightmares which meant, as a consequence, now heard them nightly. Hattie had to admit that she was physically and emotionally drained and, if she felt like this, then she had to consider that Jo must be feeling ten times worse, and Jo wasn’t lucky enough to have a hot journalist boyfriend to take her out and cheer her up. On reflection, she decided that Melinda had a point – blowing off Owen was a bit like looking a very handsome gift horse in the mouth.

  So she kept her date and Owen turned up on that Saturday morning as arranged to collect her from the farm. Jo hadn’t expressed any opposition to the plans when Hattie had informed her of them, but then, relations between the two of them were so frosty and strained with all the added external stresses that they were barely speaking anyway. Hattie was fed up, and the only thing stopping her from packing up and heading back to her parents’ house now was that she felt Jo needed her – or, rather, the donkeys did, because Jo was at Seth’s practice checking on Norbert almost as often as she was at the farm.

  Hattie hadn’t known what to wear for her date, as the pile of discarded clothes still lying on her bed attested. In the end, she’d gone for simple and basic with her best jeans and an embroidered cotton blouse.

  ‘Where are we going?’ she asked as she got in the car and Owen leaned over to give her an unexpectedly shy kiss. She glanced up to see Jo at her own bedroom window, watching them.

  ‘It’s a surprise,’ Owen said. ‘No amount of questioning will get the information out of me yet.’

  ‘It’s still a surprise? How long do you think you can keep this up?’

  ‘Until you guess it.’

  ‘Well, have I at least dressed appropriately? At least you can tell me that. If we’re mud-wrestling I’d rather put something less white on.’

  ‘No mud-wrestling.’ He grinned. ‘You’ll do just fine.’

  ‘Wow – you’ll do? Two dates and already complacency has set in!’

  ‘OK, what I meant to say is that you look gorgeous.’

  ‘That’s better.’ Hattie grinned.

  ‘Ready?’

  ‘I’d say yes but I have no idea as I don’t know where I’m going.’

  Owen gave a grin of his own as he pulled out of the courtyard. Hattie looked back to see that Jo was still watching at her window like some unhinged antagonist from a cheap thriller.

  ‘So, how’s your week been?’ he asked as they emerged onto the road that led away from the farm.

  ‘Not the best if I’m honest. Norbert is still really ill. I know I’m not supposed to have favourites but he kind of is.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Owen said, though he didn’t sound like he really got how Hattie was feeling. She supposed it was difficult when you weren’t close to the donkeys like she’d become. ‘You still don’t know if he’s going to be OK?’

  ‘Not yet, no. The vet had to take him to hospital and he’s keeping him there for the weekend.’

  ‘Donkeys have hospitals?’

  ‘It’s just like us needing specialist treatment, isn’t it? We’d go to hospital, so why not them?’

  ‘It just seems like a weird idea. I suppose it makes sense when you really think about it.’ He glanced at Hattie. ‘You’re cut up about it, aren’t you?’

  ‘I’m fond of him. Jo is too – we’re both worried.’

  ‘I can’t imagine her being moved by anything.’

  ‘You’re not alone there. She gives that impression but, don’t forget, she runs that place from her own pocket – at least she has done up till now – and she gives up a lot to take care of those donkeys, so she must have some compassion in her.’

  ‘That’s true.’

  ‘It’s honestly the only reason I take her bullshit,’ Hattie said, a note of bitterness creeping into her tone. ‘I’d have left anyone else by now if they treated me the way she does.’

  Owen turned to her with a look of surprise before focusing on the road again. ‘I thought you loved it there. It has been a tough week.’

  Hattie sighed. ‘Sorry – I shouldn’t be ranting about this to you. We’ve just had a few disagreements and we’re not exactly seeing eye to eye at the moment.’

  ‘She must take a lot of work to get on with, even for someone as easy-going as you.’

  ‘She does.’

  ‘You know…’ Owen continued thoughtfully, ‘I can’t help feeling there’s something about her I ought to know.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘The first time I saw her something about her rang a bell, but I can’t quite place it no matter how hard I try. Trust me, I will though.’

  ‘That’s strange. If you do remember what it is I’d love to know. I’ve lived there for weeks now and I still know absolutely nothing about her. I don’t even know where she lived before she came to Gillypuddle, where she was born, whether she has family… it’s crazy. I don’t even know how old she is! How does that work? She could be anyone and I wouldn’t have a clue!’

  ‘Think you might be living with an axe murderer?’

  ‘I could be!’

  ‘Don’t you think she’d have done the deed by now?’

  ‘Maybe she’s waiting for a special moon – the equinox or something.’

  Owen laughed out loud. Hattie liked his laugh – it was fearless, irreverent. It didn’t care what anyone thought.

  ‘Maybe I should rescue you like a knight in shining armour and take you to my flat in London that is most definitely big enough for two.’

  Hattie gave him a sideways look. ‘Wouldn’t I cramp your style?’

  ‘Probably, but for you I could suffer.’

  ‘Seriously though, it does bother me that I know so little of Jo.’

  Hattie wondered whether she ought to mention the nightmares. They troubled her, but did she know Owen well enough to talk to him about it? It still felt inappropriate enough that Hattie should know about them, let alone anyone else, but she was convinced now that they were a clue to Jo’s past. Hattie had heard the name again coming from Jo’s room during her more restless nights, a couple of times now, always with the same fear and urgency: Jenny. She had to be someone significant, but who? If Owen’s intuition was right and he really did know something about Jo that currently evaded him, perhaps that information might help to trigger something more?

  ‘If it really bothers you, how about I see what I can dig up?’ he said.

  ‘Like spy on her?’

  ‘Not spy, exactly. Just see if we have anything in our archives. I can do a search with her name easily enough.’

  In light of her thoughts on the subject it was tempting, but Hattie shook her head. It didn’t feel right to pry, no matter how frustrating the gaps in her knowledge of Jo’s life were.

  ‘I don’t think so; it doesn’t seem right some
how.’

  ‘You’re saying it’s a little bit unsavoury?’

  Hattie gave a sheepish smile. ‘Sort of. Sorry.’

  ‘Well,’ Owen said, slowing for a red light, ‘it’s your loss. You’re the one losing sleep over this thing. But if you don’t want to know…’

  His flippant statement was more accurate than he could know. Hattie was losing sleep. Maybe not entirely because of Jo, but it certainly wasn’t helping. She wanted a reason to understand Jo’s moods, she wanted a reason to forgive her when she was being awkward, a reason to like her, to tolerate the brusqueness, because she wanted to believe that everything she’d thought about Jo, about a good soul buried deep within the thorny exterior, was true. Again and again, Hattie came back to the same conclusion: anyone who sacrificed so much to care for defenceless animals couldn’t be all bad.

  ‘It’s good of you to offer,’ she said. ‘And I do appreciate it but honestly, I think it’s better to keep persevering with her the straight, old-fashioned way.’

  Owen smiled. ‘OK – I won’t do anything if you don’t want me to.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  Hattie turned to the window. The coast was behind them and she could tell they were moving inland now. The scenery became flatter, with fields of wheat and yellow rapeseed blocked out across the landscape like a giant chequerboard.

  ‘So, exactly where are you taking me?’ she asked.

  ‘Don’t think if you keep asking you’ll trip me up,’ he said with a laugh. ‘I told you it’s a surprise.’

  ‘Can’t I even get a little clue?’

  ‘No, because then you might guess and ruin the surprise.’

  ‘Spoilsport.’

  ‘No, that’s you.’ He laughed. ‘Wait and see!’

  ‘I can’t. I’m impatient – ask my dad. In fact, ask anyone who knows me.’

  ‘I don’t think I’ll ask your dad just yet, if it’s all the same to you.’

  ‘Scaredy cat.’

  ‘Of your dad? Hell yeah! Of any girl’s dad! All guys are scared of their girlfriends’ dads.’

  ‘My dad’s a softy even when he pretends to be strict.’

  ‘To you, maybe. To me he’s licensed to kill.’

  Hattie giggled. ‘So you’re still not going to tell me where we’re going, even if I threaten to get my dad on you?’

  ‘Nope. Not on pain of death.’

  ‘Aren’t you worried I’ll hate it?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘Confidence, eh? I like it.’

  Owen grinned and Hattie turned back to the windows, looking for clues in the road signs.

  An hour later, they ran into a queue of traffic. Owen drummed on the steering wheel in time to the song on the radio as they inched forward. He didn’t seem overly concerned at the development.

  ‘It’s weird that we should run into this suddenly,’ Hattie said.

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘But the road’s been clear and there aren’t any roadworks that I know of. It’s not even a very main road – this one is always quiet whenever I’ve been down it.’

  ‘It wouldn’t be today.’

  ‘You expected this?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  Hattie wondered why he hadn’t avoided the route if he’d expected to run into traffic but she didn’t say so because she didn’t want to sound as if she was complaining. She was happy just being out with him, even if they were sitting in traffic together. She looked out of the window instead. There were fields and farmhouses, the odd bit of scrubland and distant forests. Nothing to queue in traffic for.

  They moved another half mile, crawling in much the same way, and then Hattie saw a large, colourful sign and she burst out laughing.

  ‘Monster truck rally! Please don’t tell me that’s where we’re going!’

  Owen grinned. ‘Well, I did tell you I’d give you something totally unexpected.’

  ‘What! That’s seriously our date?’

  ‘You don’t like it?’ he asked, sounding less sure of himself now.

  ‘I’ve no idea! It’s not something I’ve ever considered doing.’

  ‘Trust me, it’s more fun than you might imagine.’

  ‘You’ve been to one before?’

  ‘My dad used to bring me.’

  ‘Well, you definitely had a very different upbringing to me,’ Hattie said with a laugh. ‘You wouldn’t have got my dad within ten miles of one of these – his idea of a wild time is watching back-to-back episodes of Countryfile.’

  ‘It’s honestly not that wild,’ Owen said. ‘Not like I imagine they would be in the States – it’s all quite British and civilised here.’

  ‘Well, I definitely can’t complain that you don’t surprise me,’ Hattie said. ‘First a beer festival and now this; I can only wonder how you’re going to keep your roll going. What’s the next date going to be? A zero-gravity flight or something?’

  ‘You know, that’s not a bad idea,’ Owen said with a grin.

  They continued to move with the traffic until, at long last, they made it through the entrance and parked up. Owen got them past the ticket booth while Hattie took a look around, marvelling at how huge the crowd was. The place was buzzing: gangs of teenage boys, families with young children, fathers with sons and grandfathers with grandsons, dads with daughters who looked surprisingly more enthusiastic than them. As they made their way to the arena Hattie noted rows of kiosks selling everything from alcohol and fast food to souvenir programmes and merchandise.

  ‘Want a hat?’ Owen asked with an impish grin, nodding towards a stand that sold peaked caps with the logo of the rally emblazoned on the front.

  ‘Do you know what, maybe I’ll pass on that,’ Hattie said.

  The day was turning into a warm one and Hattie peeled off her cardigan and tied it around her waist, glad now that she’d opted for the more casual choice of clothes rather than the tiny dress and heels she’d almost settled on. Owen reached for her hand. She smiled up at him and he bent to give her a quick kiss.

  They emerged into the main space of the arena. It was vast, and looked like perhaps during the rest of the year it made up an extensive part of a farmer’s land. Not that Hattie was any expert. There were low stands placed around the central space, standing room in front cordoned off at a safe distance and another stand close to the action labelled ‘VIP and Press Area’. Owen started to lead Hattie there.

  ‘This is us?’ Hattie asked, looking up at the stand. ‘Did you have to pay a lot for these tickets?’

  ‘Actually,’ he said a little sheepishly, ‘I thought I’d kill two birds with one stone. I thought I’d write a piece about the rally as I was coming anyway so I contacted the organisers and… well, there has to be some perks in anyone’s job, doesn’t there?’

  Hattie wasn’t a naturally suspicious person but even she was beginning to get the sneaky feeling that this day and the VIP tickets might actually be a press freebie. Part of her felt she ought to be annoyed at the idea, but part of her liked Owen so much she didn’t want to dwell on the possibility, which would take the shine off her day out. And after the week she’d had at Sweet Briar she felt like she’d earned this day a hundred times over, no matter where it came from. So she said nothing about it and followed Owen to their seats, feeling slightly conspicuous as the people in the cheap seats watched them make their way to the press box.

  Up there was better quality seating and a small, manned bar area. Owen left Hattie to get comfortable while he went to get drinks. As she watched him go, she wondered why she wasn’t more put out by the idea of him bringing her here as part of a job, but that didn’t stop her snapping a photo of her seat and sending it to Melinda with the caption:

  Finally living the high life! VIP area at a monster truck rally – talk about classy, lol!

  Keeping her phone to hand, she waited for a moment to see if Melinda would respond, but as Owen returned with a Pimm’s for her and beer for himself (the only one, he promised, and the drive back was hours a
way, plenty of time for it to pass through his system), she decided to tuck her phone away and settle down. As she did, the public-address system announced that the show was about to start.

  Hattie was forced to admit she’d enjoyed herself more than she could have imagined had someone suggested a show like this to her. Of course, it was as loud and brash as she’d expected it to be, with blasting music, revving engines, fireworks, pyrotechnics and general whooping and hollering, but it was good-natured, mindless fun. She’d never been a petrolhead, but even she’d been impressed by some of the outlandish vehicles and highly advanced driving skills they’d seen. Owen was clearly having the time of his life and, as Hattie hadn’t seen him make a single note throughout the event, she had to wonder how on earth he was planning to write about it.

  As the last show ended and the crowds began to file out of the stadium, Hattie and Owen joined them, slowly making their way back to his car. The air had cooled and, despite the heat of so many people around them, Hattie pulled her cardigan back on. Owen reached for her hand again. All afternoon he’d been tactile and attentive – little touches, affectionate looks – but he’d been modest and respectful when it came to anything more. Perhaps he was mindful of where they’d been sitting and his professional appearance. But when they got back to the car and locked themselves in, he reached for her and pressed his lips urgently to hers.

  ‘God, I’ve been so desperate to do that,’ he said.

  ‘Well…’ Hattie began slowly with a dreamy look that she couldn’t hide, ‘maybe you ought to think about that next time you decide to take me on a free trip.’

  He gave her a sheepish smile.

  She smiled now too. ‘I suppose I ought to be thankful you didn’t take me on a death knock,’ she added.

  ‘You looked it up?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, and it sounds just as horrible as the name would suggest.’

  ‘Luckily I don’t have to do them these days. Monster trucks are about as traumatic as it gets.’