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

by Tilly Tennant

  ‘You can’t help everyone,’ Nigel said with a tone of exasperation as they sat at breakfast a few hours later. ‘I keep telling you this. You can’t help someone who doesn’t want to be helped.’

  ‘Your dad has a point,’ Rhonda put in.

  ‘You needed help after Charlotte; you had counselling…’ Hattie began, but instantly clammed up at the look on both her parents’ faces.

  ‘That was different,’ Rhonda said briskly.

  ‘I know, but…’

  ‘I don’t want to hear it again,’ Nigel said. ‘It’s none of our business.’

  ‘She lives in Gillypuddle – of course it’s our business!’ Hattie insisted. ‘She’s one of us!’

  ‘She’s made it quite clear that she doesn’t want to be,’ Rhonda said. ‘I’m afraid I have to agree with your father.’

  ‘She won’t talk to me if I go up.’ Hattie reached for the teapot as Rhonda put a plate of toast in front of her.

  Rhonda rolled her eyes. ‘Then don’t go up.’

  Hattie poured some tea, tight-lipped now. What was the point in talking to her parents about this? They didn’t want her to make peace with Jo anyway – they’d much rather things stayed this way so they could persuade her to pursue a career that was far more agreeable to them. Maybe Hattie was a perpetual meddler, maybe it was an aspect of her personality she couldn’t control, but she couldn’t leave things with Jo as they were; she had to try and let her know that there was someone out there who understood. If nothing else, it was what Charlotte would have wanted her to do.

  It was mid-morning when Hattie started out on the walk to Sweet Briar Farm. Summer was breathing its last and the breeze that chased her up the cliff path was fresher than it had been of late. It felt like a long time since she’d first made this walk to see if Jo would give her a job; so much had happened in such a short space of time.

  Hattie’s hand shook as she pushed open the gates to the courtyard. It was silly to feel this much trepidation and yet she couldn’t help it. How would Jo receive her? Would she even listen, or would Hattie be sent away before she’d even opened her mouth? And there was a moment, too, when Hattie wondered if she wasn’t quite mad for even attempting this.

  The courtyard was silent and still. Hattie could just make out the grumbling clucks of the hens in the orchard and the distant bray of a donkey carrying down from their field up the hill. She missed the donkeys – at least that was one warm welcome she might get if she went up to see them. She called out for Jo.

  ‘Hello! Jo, it’s me… Hattie!’

  There was no reply.

  It was easiest to check the orchard first, then maybe the field, and then the house last, because going into the house really did feel like trespassing when she wasn’t expected or invited, and Hattie would only do that if she really had to. Hattie went through and crossed into the shadow of the neat rows of plum trees. Jo wasn’t at the chicken coop and she wasn’t tending to the trees. Hattie checked the vegetable garden. The soil was freshly turned in places and she guessed that Jo had harvested something, but she couldn’t tell what. Despite the signs of recent activity, there was no Jo here either.

  Hattie was about to make her way up to the top field when she heard a scream from the open window of Jo’s bedroom. She looked at her watch. Jo was sleeping now? It hardly seemed likely at this time of the day – Jo was always up at the crack of dawn – but there was no mistaking the sound of her recurring nightmare; Hattie had heard it often enough.

  She hesitated. To go up there would undoubtedly be breaking some sacred unwritten Jo rule. Not to mention that, technically, it was probably close to breaking and entering (though she could perhaps scratch the breaking bit if Jo’s old habit of never locking her doors still persisted). Jo could easily ring the police and she’d be within her rights to. But then there was another, lesser scream, but no less rattling, and Hattie blew out a breath.

  ‘For God’s sake!’

  She went inside. The usual order of Jo’s kitchen had given way to unwashed pots piled in the sink and leftover food still sitting on plates by the bin. A ginger tabby cat sat amongst the debris, eyeing Hattie with some suspicion.

  A cat? Clearly, Jo hadn’t finished taking in waifs and strays when she’d rescued her chickens. The cat looked a bit older than a kitten. Hattie wondered how Jo was managing to keep it away from the hens – perhaps she wasn’t letting it out of the house, though Hattie couldn’t imagine that.

  Leaving the cat as a puzzle for another day, Hattie moved through the house and up to Jo’s room. For a moment she waited, ear pressed against the wood of the door. All was quiet now.

  And then the bedroom door was flung open, knocking Hattie off balance and back towards the stairs, almost sending her down them. Jo stormed out in a nightie, hair wild and face full of fury, a length of pipe held menacingly above her head.

  ‘You!’ she cried. ‘You nearly gave me a heart attack – I thought you were robbing me! What do you mean by coming here? Didn’t you understand what I said last time?’

  ‘I know, I just want to talk—’

  ‘No more talking! All you ever did was talk and I was stupid enough to listen!’

  ‘But—’

  ‘Get out! I don’t want you here!’

  ‘But, Jo—’

  ‘Are you deaf? I said—’

  ‘I know about Jenny!’ Hattie cried.

  Jo lowered her arm, her face now white. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I know about Jenny,’ Hattie repeated, her eyes darting to the length of pipe Jo was still holding and hoping that she’d never really planned to use it.

  ‘My sister, Jenny…?’ Jo asked.

  Hattie nodded. ‘I know it wasn’t your fault.’

  ‘Nobody said it was.’

  ‘But I think you do. I think you blame yourself.’

  ‘I was cleared.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Not my fault.’

  ‘I know that too. It was an electrical fault on the boat. The fire… you couldn’t have done anything about it. It said so on the inquest report – right? You were out at sea, you’d gone off course, it was dark…’

  ‘We’d gone out in my uncle’s boat,’ Jo said slowly, her eyes looking at a spot in the past. ‘He’d told us it needed checking over and I said I’d do it and we’d take it out.’

  ‘And you checked it over?’

  ‘I was too quick. It looked fine…’

  ‘But there was a fault you hadn’t seen?’

  ‘She was supposed to be getting married. She was moving away… this was… a last trip on the boat – just me and her – for old times.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘I survived.’

  ‘It was five years ago, Jo. You can’t spend your life feeling bad about it. You can’t really believe that you ought to be punished forever because you made it out and she didn’t?’

  Jo stared into space. ‘I couldn’t help her… it was dark… the water, the fire… the boat was sinking and I held onto something. I couldn’t see Jenny… I thought she’d got something to hold onto too…’

  ‘It’s not your fault.’

  Jo snapped back to the room and scowled at Hattie. ‘How would you know? You can’t possibly understand.’

  ‘I lost my sister,’ Hattie said.

  Jo looked at her now, as if she’d never seen her before.

  ‘She died when I was thirteen,’ Hattie continued.

  ‘That doesn’t change anything,’ Jo said, but Hattie could tell that it did.

  ‘It was sudden,’ Hattie said. ‘I couldn’t do anything to save her – none of us could.’

  ‘Was it your fault?’

  ‘No, but—’

  ‘Then it’s not the same at all. I should have checked that engine!’ Jo prodded herself in the chest. ‘I should have found that fault! It’s because of me she died. It’s because of me—’

  ‘You couldn’t have known!’

  ‘What would you know? Wh
at would anyone else know? Everyone blamed me and they were right! Nobody would talk to me, nobody wanted to know me… I spent so long trying to make it right with my family but they didn’t want to know and they were right to shun me – it was my fault!’

  ‘Everyone blamed you?’

  ‘Why do you think I came here?’ Jo asked. ‘Why do you think I came to a place where nobody knows me, where nobody wants to know me? They don’t want to know me here just the same as they didn’t at home, but I was OK, because at least nobody here knew what I’d done… but then you come today and act like you know everything and all you’ve done it make it worse.’

  ‘I had no idea…’ Hattie said in a small voice.

  ‘I should never have invited you into my home,’ Jo said savagely. ‘I should have managed, like I always did.’

  ‘You don’t look like someone who’s managing now,’ Hattie said. ‘And I don’t think you were before. I want to help, Jo, I can—’

  ‘I don’t want your help! Why can’t you understand that I don’t want you meddling, bringing outsiders in! I don’t want to be reminded of Jenny. Why did you have to come back? Why couldn’t you have left it alone?’

  ‘I didn’t mean to make things worse. I found out and I thought… well, I thought we both went through the same thing and if I’d had someone else when my sister died then… maybe things would have been different for me too.’

  ‘You’re saying the way I live is wrong?’

  ‘Of course not!’ Hattie let out a sigh. ‘I just want to help.’

  ‘Who told you?’ Jo asked quietly. ‘How did you find out?’

  ‘Owen.’

  Jo shook her head, a silent question.

  ‘My boyfriend.’

  ‘The journalist,’ Jo said stiffly. ‘I might have known.’

  ‘He wasn’t trying to cause trouble.’

  ‘It’s his business to cause trouble.’

  ‘Owen’s not like that.’

  ‘Owen is exactly like that. These people thrive on the misery of others. They wouldn’t leave me alone… knocking on my door, hounding my parents, making everything worse!’

  The death knock, Hattie thought vaguely; the thing that Owen had hated doing as a new journalist. Owen’s not like the rest, she thought. She had to believe that, but… hadn’t there been just a little too much glee in his discovery of Jo’s past? Hadn’t there been just a little less compassion than there ought to have been?

  ‘So…’ Jo said, cutting into Hattie’s thoughts, ‘is that it? Have you said what you came to say?’

  ‘No… I mean, yes, but—’

  ‘Then you’ll kindly leave.’

  ‘Can I at least go and see the donkeys?’

  ‘No. You had your chance.’

  Hattie’s eyes swam with tears. She sniffed them back and, for the first time, noticed that Jo was crying too. Hattie had wanted to breach the defences of Jo’s heart, to reach inside and bring the real Jo out into the sun, but not like this. What had she done?

  ‘I’m sorry…’ she said.

  ‘I don’t need your sorry,’ Jo replied, rubbing a hand over her eyes. ‘I don’t want to hear it; I just want to be left in peace – is that too much to ask?’

  Hattie shook her head. ‘No,’ she said in a tiny voice. She turned to take the stairs, feeling Jo’s eyes on her back.

  Well, Hattie, you’ve played a blinder, once again.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Hattie dialled Owen’s number. When it went to the answering service, she took a breath to leave a message but then hung up. What was the point? How could she say the things that filled her head to a machine? Pulling out the business card he’d given to her, she dialled the number for his desk phone.

  ‘Hello?’

  It was a man’s voice but not Owen’s.

  ‘Oh… is Owen there?’

  ‘Not right now, he’s out on a story. Can I help you?’

  She began to pace up and down the bedroom floor. She really needed to speak to him about Jo. She wanted to know if he could find out anything else, anything that might help – though she had no idea how anything would help now.

  ‘No… thank you,’ she said, frustrated but ultimately stuck.

  ‘He’ll probably be back briefly around five if you wanted to try him then. Only for an hour, though; I know he’s got arrangements to pick someone up from the airport shortly afterwards.’

  ‘Oh,’ Hattie replied, suddenly thrown. The airport? It wasn’t as if he had to tell her every detail of his life or what he did on a daily basis when he was in London, but picking someone up from the airport would be quite significant, wouldn’t it? You picked people up from the airport when they were important to you, didn’t you? He’d never mentioned anyone significant flying in. ‘Who?’

  ‘I really don’t think it’s my place to say.’

  ‘Of course,’ Hattie said. ‘You don’t know me from Adam. It’s just… well, I’m his girlfriend and I really need to speak to him so I was wondering how long he might be.’

  ‘His girlfriend?’ The man sounded confused. ‘But aren’t you on the flight right now?’

  ‘No, I’m at home.’

  ‘So you need me to tell him not to come to the airport? Hold on, let me leave a message on his desk…’

  Hattie’s mind raced as she tried to process what she’d just been told. What flight? What was going on? She heard the receiver being put down and footsteps, and then he came back.

  ‘So, tell me again…’

  Suddenly filled with panic as she worked it out, Hattie ended the call. Owen was picking up a girlfriend from the airport, but it wasn’t her. How stupid was she? How could she have missed the signs? Why on earth would she think that someone as charming and handsome as Owen would be available? God, she was an idiot! Of course Owen had a girlfriend waiting for him at the airport. He probably had one in every town he visited.

  Her mobile rang and her blood boiled as she saw his name flash up. He must have just seen he’d missed her call.

  ‘Hey,’ he said breezily as she picked up. ‘Sorry; I was just doing some piece about the new Japanese wood-carving collection at the British Museum, and I was stuck with the curator – couldn’t get to you, didn’t want to seem rude or anything, but I did see your call come through. Did you want me for anything in particular or just to tell me how sexy I am?’

  ‘I don’t suppose you have time to speak to me right now, do you?’ Hattie asked coldly. ‘I imagine traffic will be bad on the way to the airport at this time of the day.’

  There was a moment’s silence on the line.

  ‘Who told you?’ he said finally.

  ‘I have absolutely no idea, but I think he’s definitely more confused than either of us.’

  ‘Hattie, let me explain—’

  ‘Seriously? You’re even going to give this a go? Come on then, I can’t wait to hear it.’

  ‘Neeve is… well, it’s complicated. She lives in Dublin—’

  ‘Oh, so that makes it alright? She doesn’t live in England so… what? You have an open relationship? You’re allowed to date other people as long as they don’t get in the way when she comes home? Is this why you didn’t always have weekends free?’

  ‘I’m not getting this across very well. I’m trying to break up with her. I’ve wanted to break it off ever since you and me started dating but… well, the timing’s always off.’

  ‘Well, it’s off now alright!’

  ‘You don’t understand – she needs careful handling.’

  ‘And I don’t? I can be handled any damn way you like?’

  ‘No, Hattie… please… I promise I’ll do it this weekend and then we can be together – properly.’

  ‘How very kind of you,’ Hattie replied in a voice dripping with sarcasm. ‘I’ll look forward to that.’

  She heard Owen’s exasperated sigh, and it did nothing to calm her temper. How dare he be exasperated with her! What sort of reaction had he been expecting when all this ca
me out? Did he want her to be patient and understanding? Perhaps she would have been if he’d found the decency to be more honest with her in the first place. He might well have intended to finish things with this Neeve girl, but how could he expect Hattie to believe anything he said now?

  ‘What do you want me to say?’ he asked.

  ‘How about sorry?’

  ‘I’m sorry – you know I am.’

  ‘And how about you follow that up with: I won’t ever bother you again, Hattie?’

  ‘That’s it? You’re dumping me?’

  ‘I don’t know what else you expected? Goodbye, Owen – have fun with whatever her name is.’

  Hattie stabbed at the screen to end the call. First Jo and now this. Her day was getting better and better.

  Hattie sat in her parents’ garden listening to the birds going home to roost as the sun set over her dad’s perfect rose bushes. Rhonda had been out with glasses of wine for them both and asked if Hattie was alright, and they’d talked for a while about this and that – about Melinda’s pregnancy and Phyllis’s latest disaster at the Willow Tree, about Rupert’s leg and how long it was since his wife had died. Hattie didn’t mention Owen to her mum. She didn’t want to tell anyone about Owen because she felt too stupid, though she realised she’d have to tell people soon – especially Lance. She wondered whether Lance had known about this girlfriend tucked away in Dublin, but she’d known Lance a long time and was very fond of him, and she liked to think that he was very fond of her. She wanted to believe that he would never have tried to throw her and Owen together if he’d known. They were only second cousins anyway, and Lance had already said they rarely saw each other most years – perhaps they really weren’t that close at all. One thing was for sure, it was going to make visiting the Willow Tree awkward for a while.