Heart in the Right Home

by Lisa Hill

  Hilary had the decency to look uncomfortable. ‘Perhaps I’ll come back this afternoon, when you’re less busy.’

  ‘Louise doesn’t mind, do you, darling?’ Johnnie drew himself up to his full six-foot-three height and pushed forward his chest under his checked shirt.

  He looked like a lumberjack.

  Louise was about to object when even more mums filtered in through the front door with their pushchairs.

  ‘No, darling, you go ahead.’ She reached for a copy of Yorkshire Life from the display in front of the till. ‘I’m sure you won’t mind serving all our regulars while you’re down there either.’

  Chapter Eight

  Lottie was beginning to wonder why she had ever wanted to be a working mum when she’d got precious little work done today. Everyone had decided it was the day to bring her their problems to sort out. She’d chosen the wrong career; she should have trained to be a counsellor.

  And it certainly didn’t help when you’d promised yourself to stop interfering.

  First it had been Jude, worried about leaving Lottie in charge of not only her own three children, Ant, Cam and Eve, but Jude’s two, Jacob and Emily, and Tom’s daughter, Rori, for a fortnight while they honeymooned in St Tropez. If Lottie didn’t think she could cope she wouldn’t have offered, although she was beginning to regret the decision a little. Drew had joked that they would be better off moving into Clunderton Hall for two weeks – there were certainly enough bedrooms – but between juggling the children, the household and HG1 – Lottie and Drew’s estate agents – Lottie didn’t need the added headache of having to dash back to Church Cottage every time she ran out of fresh pairs of pants.

  Anyway, it was simple enough; Ant and Rori got the village bus into town where they went to Harrogate Grammar and Lottie turfed the other four out at Clunderton Primary on her way into the office. Only this morning, Jude had met Lottie at the school gates to express her concerns that she was putting on Lottie too much, but really – in Lottie’s humble opinion – she had just wanted to discuss the cliff-hanger James had left them all with at the wedding on Saturday afternoon.

  Which she would throttle James for, when she next saw him.

  Understandably, Tom was spitting feathers and Jude was worried it was going to spoil their honeymoon. Lottie said she’d sort it, which was a lie. She hadn’t a clue how to go about getting James to back down, especially when she knew who was behind it. Edward was used to getting his own way. Perhaps her dad might be the voice of reason? Jack had managed to go where no other man had gone before and told Edward to sling his hook. Although, now he was shacked up with Pamela, perhaps he wouldn’t have the leverage she might have hoped.

  Lottie sighed and looked at the chaos that enveloped the ten-seater, oak kitchen table at Church Cottage. When she’d arrived at the office this morning, all Drew had wanted to talk about was this bloody development – which was nothing to do with them; they had left Hardwickes to escape such drama! – so, she had slung her MacBook back in her bag and told him she was working from home this afternoon. She’d just taken on new clients, looking for a country pile on the outskirts of Harrogate or Wetherby. The relocation arm of HG1 was proving very successful and she was proud of what she was achieving.

  When she got to work on it.

  Arriving back at home, an hour before the school run, she’d made herself a cuppa, flicked her laptop back on, ready to flex her fingers over a few search engines, when the backdoor had heralded the arrival of Audrey, all in a fluster as Pamela was hell bent on being reunited with Jean. Audrey – not speaking to Jean herself – didn’t have a clue how to make this happen.

  Now, Lottie was standing looking at a table of screwed up cake wrappers, crumbs, property brochures, paper, crayons and spilt drinks, pondering what the hell she was going to cook for tea which was reminding her very much of her life when she only worked Saturdays. Proving that however much she tried to change, bugger all had changed around here.

  ‘Only me,’ came the dulcet Somerset tones of Jack from the backdoor.

  Lottie smiled; a welcome distraction. ‘You know you don’t live next door anymore? You could use the front door?’

  ‘Why change the habit of a lifetime?’ He slipped his wellies off and Sky, Jack’s Border Collie, snaked past him, heading for her basket by the radiator. She didn’t get to use it much now she had moved with Jack to the Old Rectory. Lottie had expected to inherit Sky when Jack moved; Lottie couldn’t imagine muddy paw prints and Pamela’s cream carpets living in harmony together, but Pamela had surprised them all by taking Sky on too.

  Lottie flicked the kettle. ‘Well, this is a nice surprise, and to what do I owe such pleasure?’

  Jack wandered across the kitchen tiles and pulled out a spindle-back chair. ‘Go on, admit it; you miss me really.’

  It was true; she did. It was lovely having Audrey living next door at Church End, but she loved her dad dearly and part of her did miss their little chats over the breakfast table, when Drew had gone off to work, before the school run every morning.

  ‘Of course, I do, and the kids.’ She popped a teabag in a mug and poured hot water over it. ‘Come on then, spit it out; everyone else has sought my counsel today. But if it’s about that bloody development, I’m all talked out!’

  Jack rubbed his hand over his jawline. ‘Doesn’t surprise me. That Hilary Preston-Jones accosted me when I was walking down the lane. She’s putting up posters all over the village. She’s resurrected VOCAB and there’s a meeting in the village hall this coming Thursday.’

  Lottie made a mental note not to go anywhere near the high street on Thursday. As a Hardwicke, it sounded like her name was blasphemy in the village already.

  ‘Bloody, James! I could quite merrily strangle him the next time I see him; it was the talk of the playground this afternoon. Mums worried they won’t get their little darlings into the primary school if more houses are built.’

  ‘They could always buy one instead of taxiing all their sprogs in from Clun St Mary.’

  ‘That’s true.’ Lottie idly fished the tea bag out and poured some milk in. ‘What’s come over you? I didn’t have you down as someone pro the development?’

  ‘I’m already public enemy number one to Edward, I can hardly afford to upset another Hardwicke, especially living in the same house as him.’

  Lottie waved a dismissive hand as she passed Jack his mug. ‘James is harmless, he isn’t Edward, you won’t have a problem there.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Jack took a sip of his tea. ‘Either way, best not go upsetting the applecart. Anyway, that’s not why I came to see you; I’ve got problems closer to home, or at least they will be if I don’t get on and tell you.’

  ‘Oh?’ Lottie raised an eyebrow. Part of her was annoyed that this was yet another interruption to her day, someone else with another problem they thought she might hold the answer to. On the other hand, she was self-confessed as naturally curious; she needed to know now. ‘Go on.’

  Jack took a deep breath. ‘I’m just going to come out and say this. I thought we were going to keep it a secret for a little while, but Pamela’s already told Audrey and I don’t want you finding out from someone else, so—'

  ‘Oh my God, you’re getting married!’ Lottie’s hands flew to her face, covering her eyes.

  ‘Yes, but how did you…?’ Jack sounded thoroughly confused.

  Lottie lowered her hands. ‘I should have sussed something was up when Audrey came around prattling on about how was she meant to get Pamela and Jean talking to each other when she isn’t on speaking terms with Jean herself.’

  ‘Are you angry?’ Jack asked, sounding nervous.

  Lottie’s brain was racing at a hundred miles an hour, making connections over the enormity of what Jack had just said. ‘Pardon? Angry? Why would I be angry?’

  ‘You’ve hardly been Pamela’s number one fan.’

  It was true that Lottie had never had the most harmonious relationship with her mother-in-law.
In fact, Lottie had welcomed their move from Bath to Yorkshire to avoid Pamela’s nit-picking and had thoroughly enjoyed living without interference for three years until Pamela and Edward had returned to Yorkshire last year, shattering Lottie’s tranquillity and almost ending her marriage.

  ‘True.’ Lottie wrinkled her nose, ‘but she makes you happy.’ God knows why. ‘And if you’re happy, I’m happy. Or I will be once I’ve got over the shock of having her as my step-mother as well as mother-in-law.’ She winked at Jack.

  He averted his eyes. ‘Thought you might be cross,’ he said, gruffly. ‘You know she’s no replacement for your mother.’

  ‘Oh, Dad!’ Lottie squeezed his forearm. Mary, Lottie’s mum, had died of breast cancer four years ago. Jack had taken a long time to come to terms with it. ‘Of course, I know that, but how many times do I need to tell you that you can’t go on living half a life!’

  Jack nodded, blinking back what suspiciously looked like tears. ‘I know. Got a bit caught up in the moment on Saturday and popped the question. Hope I’m not going to live to regret it.’

  Lottie nodded and they both picked up their mugs and sipped in silence. She knew what Jack was referring to; Edward. When he found out, things were going to get unpleasant.

  ‘Um, how are things going with divorce proceedings?’

  ‘I was hoping this proposal would have coerced her into doing something. Instead she hot footed it around here this morning to talk to Audrey about a reunion with Jean and colour schemes for the bridesmaids.’

  ‘Bridesmaids!’ Lottie almost spat her tea out.

  ‘She didn’t have a proper wedding first time around; she’s ever so excited.’

  ‘Well, there isn’t going to be one anytime soon if she can’t get a divorce. She’s only been separated a year; Edward could contest and hold things up for at least another year, or more. Oh, my life!’ Lottie’s hand flew to her mouth. ‘I’ve just realised something!’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Drew’s going to be my step-brother as well as my husband!’

  They both dissolved into fits of giggles. Tears spilled onto Jack’s cheeks and he wiped them away, still laughing.

  ‘Is this a private party or can anyone join in?’

  Lottie and Jack both turned to see James nonchalantly leaning on the kitchen doorframe.

  ‘Who let you in?’ Lottie asked, realising she didn’t sound very friendly.

  ‘Ant answered. I could hear you two laughing from the front door.’

  Lottie stifled another giggle and looked at Jack. ‘Can I tell him?’

  ‘I’m not sure, I came around here to tell you. Only fair James and Drew hear it from their mother.’

  ‘Christ,’ James said, pulling out a chair and thudding into it. ‘Either Dad’s died and you’re celebrating, or you and Mum are getting hitched. I’ll take it to be the latter,’ he said, raking his hands through his hair.

  Lottie pursed her lips together, unsure if it was appropriate to carry on laughing about the preposterousness of it all. She watched Jack waiting for James’ reaction.

  James smiled. ‘Congratulations,’ he said, leaning across the table to shake Jack’s hand.

  Lottie giggled again. ‘Welcome to the family, step-brother!’

  ‘Hey, perhaps we should merge HG1 and Hardwickes and call them all Sellwoods,’ James said, laughing out loud.

  ‘Very funny,’ Jack said, standing up. ‘Best I get home to my wife-to-be and let you two continue with your quips; who knows, you could have come up with a ‘Son of the Bride’ speech before the evening’s out. I’ll see you for supper, James.’ Jack patted James on his shoulder and went to fetch his wellies.

  ‘It’s okay, I’ll eat down the Clunderton Arms; I don’t want to cramp you lovebirds’ style.’

  ‘Oh, don’t be like that. It’ll be nice to have some different conversation for a change.’

  ‘Face it, Jack, you’re going to be talking flowers and table seating for the foreseeable future; you can join me for a pint after supper if you need to escape.’

  ‘Right oh,’ Jack said, laughing. ‘Come on Sky.’ Sky stretched out in her basket. ‘See you soon, love.’

  ‘Bye Dad, love you,’ Lottie called as he disappeared through the backdoor. She eyed James suspiciously. ‘It’s been an odd day. A vast array of people visiting me to share their problems; I’ll assume you’re here to do the same.’

  James put his hand to his chest. ‘You know me too well.’

  ‘Hmmm, I probably do,’ Lottie said, standing up to start the supper without any idea what sort of problem James was bringing to her door. ‘As long as it’s not about that bloody development; I’ve had an earful of that already today. Want to stay for supper?’ she asked, the anger she had been holding for James all day quickly dissipating, making way for sympathy as she knew full well James was only going to frequent the pub so that he wasn’t in Pamela and Jack’s way all evening.

  ‘I thought you’d never ask. Any chance of a cuppa too?’

  Lottie nodded to the kettle as she flicked the oven on. ‘It’s over there, help yourself. Now, come on then, spill,’ she said, feeling like a broken record and, truth be told, a little deflated that although it was lovely that everyone valued her opinion, she had more important things to do. Like find her clients a new home.

  ‘Ah, well, that’s why I wanted to speak to you before Drew got home.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Yes, it’s about Rebecca.’

  Oh really. She slammed her laptop shut. ‘I’m all ears.’

  Chapter Nine

  Light was streaming through the bedroom curtains when Louise awoke.

  ‘Botherations!’ She sat bolt upright in bed. It must be gone six o’clock if it was light; she was late for starting to make today’s fresh batch of scones.

  ‘Happy birthday, Mum!’

  Rubbing her eyes, she focused to see Megan and Cerys standing there, in their school uniforms and aprons, dusted in flour, holding out a tray of croissants and steaming coffee in a cafetiere.

  ‘What time is it?’ she asked, scraping her hair up and reaching for a hairband from her bedside table.

  ‘It’s your birthday! You didn’t expect us to make you get up early today, did you?’ Cerys said.

  ‘But my alarm?’ Louise crashed back down on the bed feeling totally confused. ‘What about the fresh scones for this morning?’

  ‘All in hand,’ Megan said, sitting down on the bed next to her and handing her the tray. ‘You just sit back and relax.’

  ‘Oh, thank you, girls.’ Louise took the tray and attempted to put on a happy face, all the while one hundred questions racing through her mind.

  ‘Aren’t you going to open your presents?’ Cerys asked, joining them on the bed. ‘This one’s from me.’ Cerys picked up an envelope and handed it to her.

  ‘Thank you,’ Louise said, tentatively taking it, fingering the paper open. She glanced at her phone, lying on the side of the bed, confirming it was only 7.30am and the girls weren’t late for school. ‘Gosh, Megan, what time did you get up to start the baking?’

  ‘It’s your birthday, Mum, it doesn’t matter, we’ve both been revising lots.’

  ‘But you’ve got your first exams tomorrow! Both of you; your sleep is very important and…’ she trailed off as she looked up from opening the envelope to see her eldest daughter giving her a reproachful stare and, not for the first time recently, questioned who the parent was in their relationship these days. ‘Sorry,’ she said, realising she was spoiling that exciting moment on birthday mornings where the recipient opened their gifts. Only a decade ago they would have both bounced in desperate to give Louise her presents and also to rip open the wrapping paper themselves, to show her what they had bought. Johnnie would have helped, of course, been in on the secret, sitting next to her in bed, waiting patiently to give his gift to her too. Now, her daughters were young women, independently sorting her birthday presents, still eager to wake her up and gift them b
ut without Johnnie even present, let alone waiting in line to give her his gift. If he’d even bothered to get her one, he was so wrapped up making anyone with the surname Hardwicke public enemy number one. Louise knew she should enthusiastically continue with opening the card Cerys had given her, but she couldn’t carry on the pretence any longer. ‘Sorry,’ she said, biting her lip, trying to overcome the urge to ask, ‘but where’s your dad?’

  Both girls looked at one another before staring down at the bed, finding the French toile pattern of the duvet cover more interesting than meeting their mother’s gaze.

  ‘He’s gone to the cash and carry,’ Megan said, quietly.

  Louise nodded and said nothing. So, it was like that, then, was it? Because she’d not been prepared to move her birthday meal to tomorrow, to accommodate the VOCAB meeting tonight, Johnnie had to protest by disappearing to the wholesalers at the crack of dawn, on her birthday. Louise swallowed hard and gathered her expression, keen not to show the girls how rejected she felt. ‘Right, well, I’d best get these presents open before you need to get off to school, I need to open the shop,’ she said, sounding ten times brighter than she actually felt.

  Having gratefully received her gifts of a voucher for a day of cake decorating with a local professional, from Cerys, and a subscription to a magazine on sugar crafting from Megan, with the promise of an extra, joint surprise gift from them both this evening, Louise descended the stairs to the stores in a slightly more joyful mood than she had started the day. Although it had been a rush to get ready in just half-an-hour and she was late opening up the shop now, let alone getting the tearooms prepared for the day.

  Was she being precious? It was her birthday and she’d worked on her birthday before. But it was odd that Johnnie had disappeared without wishing her happy birthday. That wasn’t being precious, was it? Wanting your husband to be there when you woke up on your birthday? Although, the way she was beginning to feel about Johnnie now, perhaps it was better he wasn’t here anyway. She continued on down the stairs into the little entrance hall with a front door which led onto the high street – which they never used – and, with a heavy heart, pushed the door to the stores open. She was a bit startled to see a queue of impatient customers had formed by the till. She looked around to see if Johnnie was about, but there was no sign of him. She frowned. Had the girls left the door to the shop unlocked by accident? They usually used the rear entrance. It was all very odd.