Hattie Goes to Hollywood: Shenanigans, fun & intrigue in a new mystery series!

by Caroline James

  Hattie thought that if the good Lord was all he was cracked up to be, the sit-knit-and-chit group would know all about Baby Yarwood’s arrival into their parish, long before Hattie had time to pick up the phone.

  Penny had begun to yell again and as Hattie knelt beside her, she felt anxious. Her pulse thumped and her heart seemed to miss a beat. What on earth should she be doing? This baby was making its way into the world way ahead of schedule and its imminent arrival, in Hattie’s conservatory, was giving her grave cause for concern.

  She was about to call the emergency services again, when she heard a loud thumping on her front door. ‘Thank God!’ Hattie said, ‘they’re here at last,’ and leaping to her feet, she hurried into the hall. The thumping was getting louder and as Hattie lifted the latch and turned the handle, she called out, ‘Keep your hair on, I’m coming as fast as I can!’ She threw the door open and nearly fell over as she staggered backwards in surprise.

  Hattie wasn’t greeted by uniformed paramedics, rushing in with medical supplies. Nor was there an ambulance parked across her gateway, its blue lights flashing in response to the emergency call out.

  Instead, an old white van blocked the lane, its headlights dim in the pelting rain. In the porch stood Arnie, still covered in a dustbin bag over his clothes, his hair was soaking from the branches of the wilting wisteria. Behind him, Joan came lurching up the path. Her hair was tied back and her face set in grim determination as she held out arms that were full of bulky carrier bags. Like Arnie, she wore a plastic dustbin bag over her playsuit.

  ‘Hurry up!’ Joan yelled, ‘let Arnie in!’

  The pair hurried by and, as Joan wobbled past, pinning Hattie to the wall, she said, ‘We saw Penny making her way over the green earlier, and guessed that she was heading this way but it wasn’t until your Drake came banging on the shop door with his beak that we knew there was trouble.’ She followed Arnie through the cottage and, hearing Penny’s cries, soon found the patient in the conservatory.

  Joan nodded her head when she saw the girl. ‘Aye, when he saw her, Arnie said to me, “that lass hasn’t got long, there’s a baby on its way,” and by the look of things, he was right.’

  Hattie was absolutely gobsmacked as she watched Arnie and Joan take over and unpack their carrier bags to prepare for the birth. Arnie went into the kitchen and spent several minutes washing his hands, while Joan kneeled down and checked Penny’s pulse. They both removed their plastic outer layers and, taking clean white cotton aprons and surgical head coverings from a bag, proceeded to put them on.

  ‘Start boiling water,’ Joan instructed as she turned to Hattie, ‘and don’t look so worried; Arnie and me are both qualified nurses, a bit rusty I’ll admit, but we still know what to do.’

  So that’s what they did at the hospital! Hattie thought as she flew into the kitchen. ‘Well I never!’ she said as she grabbed the kettle and, turning it on, fumbled about for saucepans. Filling them with water, she glanced out at the garden. The storm still seethed, and the sky was as black as coal. Hattie wondered where her precious duck was. Fancy! Drake had alerted help in Hattie’s moment of need. She was tempted to go outside and find him and bring Drake and his family into the safety of the warm kitchen, but there was no saying that they were out there. With luck, the old fella would have found a dry cranny in the crook of the wall or waddled them all into Alf’s shed.

  With the pans beginning to simmer, Hattie said a prayer to the Lord, whom many folks seemed convinced was with them that evening. ‘Look after everyone,’ Hattie whispered and, crossing her fingers for luck, went into the conservatory to see how Arnie and Joan were getting on.

  HARRY THE HELMET was exhausted and as he parked his police vehicle on the station car park in Marland, he yawned and hoped that the café on the square was open; he was hungry and could murder a fry-up.

  He climbed out of the car and as he stretched his weary body, Harry looked up. High above, clouds sailed by as if floating in a river of blue sky and birds hovered, soaring in lazy arcs. The sunshine was warm and comforting and he thought that the day looked innocuous, harmless, just another summer morning. Whoever would have thought that a storm had been raging all night, causing power cuts and blocked roads across the county. Emergency services had struggled to answer calls and all in all, it had been mayhem. Cumbria never ceased to surprise him; it was like a micro-climate all on its own.

  Harry nodded a greeting to early risers as he trotted up the station steps. A group of cyclists were peddling through the town, three abreast across the quiet road. Harry felt frustrated with cyclists. They were the bane of his life, with constant complaints from the public about road misuse, endless traffic jams and a general lack of respect for anyone wanting to get around at speeds that exceeded ten miles an hour. Westmarland was a lovely county and attracted cycling groups from all over the country. It was a problem that would never go away.

  A lone jogger on the other side of the road raised his hand. ‘Morning Harry!’ he called out. ‘Hell of a night, eh?’

  ‘It certainly was,’ Harry replied, acknowledging the elderly athlete’s greeting. ‘You stay safe now.’

  As Harry entered the police station, Derek Jones sat at the reception desk and looked up from the crossword page of a newspaper, spread out on his desk. ‘Pirate spoils, seven letters, third letter ‘u’,’ he said, chewing the end of a pencil.

  ‘Plunder,’ Harry replied, straightening a poster on the notice board.

  ‘Busy night?’ Derek asked.

  ‘You could say that.’

  ‘It’s quiet in here this morning,’ Derek took a biscuit from a half-eaten pack and dunked it in a mug of tea. ‘I’ve picked the right shift.’

  ‘You certainly have,’ Harry replied. He looked around and noted that there was very little happening in the station that morning. ‘I’ve never stopped.’ Harry leaned over the counter and took a biscuit. ‘I’ve had cars stuck in ditches and folk stranded and have been helping ambulance crews all night.’

  ‘I heard about the vicar’s lass giving birth on your friend’s living room sofa.’

  ‘Aye, it wasn’t something I ever thought I’d witness,’ Harry said, ‘Hattie as a midwife.’

  ‘She had some help, though?’

  ‘Yes, the couple from the convenience stores helped. It turns out that they were both nurses in Carlisle before they came to settle in Hollywood.’ Harry frowned. ‘Worked on the critical care unit, that’s how they met.’

  ‘Well, I never,’ Derek said. ‘I wouldn’t have had them down for pill pushers.’

  ‘They were hardly that; God knows what Hattie would have done without them, they saved that baby’s life.’

  ‘What made them give up decent medical jobs in the city?’

  ‘Apparently they wanted a quiet life in the country.’

  Harry turned his back on Derek and walked down the corridor to his office. He sat down and leaning back in his chair, put his feet up on his desk, took a bite of his biscuit, then closed his eyes.

  Joan and Arnie had been the surprise of the night.

  Harry had been told that an ambulance crew was having difficulty reaching a cottage in Hollywood, where a mother was about to give birth. When Harry heard Hattie’s address, he’d felt a churning in his stomach and putting two and two together knew that the mum-to-be was likely to be the vicar’s wife and Hattie needed help. He’d soon located the ambulance. It was stuck in a line of traffic that was held up because a tree had fallen across the road. Battling with the elements, Harry summoned enough man-force to move the tree and, with blue lights flashing on his vehicle, had driven ahead of the paramedics. When they arrived at the cottage, he’d run down the path and rushed through the front door. As he reached the conservatory, he was astonished to see Hattie, sitting in her chair by the window, cradling a new-born child. Alongside, on the sofa, lay Penny, her pale skin angelic and her features soft in sleep.

  ‘Shush.’ Hattie held a finger to her lips and smiled. ‘Com
e and see who we have here.’

  ‘A girl?’

  ‘No, a little boy,’

  ‘He’s a beauty,’ Harry whispered and gently touched the child’s peachy face.

  ‘Cup of tea, officer?’ Joan stood in the kitchen doorway. ‘My Arnie has the kettle on.’

  ‘I wouldn’t say no.’

  ‘White with two sugars?’ Joan asked the male paramedic who had come into the conservatory behind Harry.

  ‘You’ve got a good memory, Joanie,’ the man smiled. ‘How’s it going, Arnie, mate? Long time, no-see,’ he called into the kitchen. ‘Good to see the pair of you keeping your hand in.’

  ‘Like riding a bike,’ Joan said and nodded to the paramedic’s colleague, also male, who was gently waking Penny. ‘Anyone fancy a Fancy?’ She held out a plate of cakes. ‘Got to keep your strength up. You lads have had a busy night.’

  As Harry went into the kitchen and left the paramedics with Penny, he’d tucked into tea and cake and felt relieved. Thank goodness the baby was alright. Four weeks early, but a healthy weight, the new-born would be taken with Penny to the mother and baby unit at Penrith Hospital. Harry had been told that Josh and Hannah were staying with a friend, the lady who ran the sit-knit-and-chit group in Hollywood. He’d give her a call, to confirm that the children were safe and to tell her that Penny had given birth to a fine baby boy.

  But no one seemed to know where Roger was.

  Harry thought that it was very strange for the vicar to be out and about on such a stormy night, leaving his family, especially when his pregnant wife hadn’t long to go. He knew that a vicar had to be on-call at all hours of the day, especially if a parishioner was nearing the end of life and a family wanted a minister on hand for comfort. Harry had tried Roger’s phone several times, but no one picked up and Harry began to worry. The weather was dreadful. What if Roger had been involved in an accident or was lying hurt, in a ditch? Thinking of the worst-case scenario, Harry had decided to run a trace on the phone. If it was still working, there would be a signal and if there was a signal, it could lead him to Roger.

  Now, as Harry relaxed at his desk, he shook his head and sighed. His trace on Roger’s phone had been intriguing and he decided that as soon as he’d caught up on his sleep, he would go and pay Hattie another visit, for Harry was sure she would be interested in his news.

  But first, Harry wanted his fry-up and, swinging his legs off the desk, he stood up.

  ‘Have a good day,’ he called out to Derek, who was suddenly busy and holding court at the front desk, dealing with three angry, Lycra-clad men, their cycling helmets askew.

  Harry checked his watch and smiled. His favourite café would be open and, keeping his head down to avoid Derek and the distressed cyclists, he hurriedly set off.

  32

  Hattie had slept all day. Having been up all night playing trainee midwife, alongside the very able Arnie and the equally competent Joan, she’d fallen exhausted into her bed and slept for the remainder of the day. Now, as she woke and checked the clock on her bedside table, Hattie sat up. Half-past three already! It was no use lingering between the sheets, she told herself, because despite all the recent distraction, she still had a job to do. Like Marjorie, Hattie was becoming impatient for answers and her investigation into Barry’s suicide would, she felt sure, soon conclude if her recent findings proved correct.

  She pushed the duvet to one side and climbed out of bed, then moving to the window, tugged at the curtain and looked down at the garden.

  ‘Oh dear,’ she said. ‘Alf will have a fit.’

  The garden was chaotic. Plants in soggy borders had been flattened by the storm and wind-blown debris was scattered across the pond. The normally clear and crystal water had been stirred up and was now a muddy mess. She wondered where Drake and his family had sheltered, and her eyes scanned the fields beyond the wall. ‘Where are you, my old fella?’ she called out, but Drake was nowhere to be seen.

  Hattie sighed. Drake had alerted Joan and Arnie the previous evening and she wanted to find him, to praise the duck with pellets and treats. She knew that she’d better get ready but before she went out, she’d go and look for him.

  A little while later, refreshed from a shower and dressed in jeans, glittery trainers and a smart silk shirt, Hattie tucked her bag under her arm and stood by the pond, scanning the banks. Alf’s vehicle pulled up in the lane and came to a stop outside the cottage. As Ness bounded towards her, Alf lumbered along the path. He nodded his head as he looked around.

  ‘Shouldn’t take too long to sort this out,’ he said.

  ‘Eh?’ Hattie was surprised. ‘Have you got a team of landscape gardeners in the back of that heap of old metal?’

  ‘Mother Nature knows what she’s doing; this will soon be back to normal.’

  ‘Well, that’s as it might be, but my main concern is my duck.’ Hattie looked around. ‘Where do you think Drake and his brood have buggered off to?’

  ‘Ducks don’t wander far in a storm, they tend to stay on the water.’ Alf scanned the pond. ‘They may be in the village, on the pond there. I wouldn’t worry, he’ll be back soon enough.’ Alf turned away and headed to his shed. ‘I’ll make a start,’ he called out and Ness, having nuzzled Hattie’s pockets and not been rewarded with any treats, turned and ran along behind him.

  ‘Aye, and I better make a start too.’ Hattie took one last look at the untidy garden then reached into her bag. As she fumbled about for her car keys, her mobile began to ring.

  It was Harry.

  ‘Is that Midwife Mulberry?’

  ‘Piss off, Poirot.’

  ‘I’ve never seen the maternal side of you before. You looked very cosy, cuddling that baby.’

  ‘There’s lots about me that you don’t know.’

  ‘I know that you’ve seriously upset our local landlord.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You could be sunning yourself in Lanzarote at this very moment.’

  ‘Have you heard from Reggie? Is that where he is?’

  ‘You’re the private eye.’

  Hattie sighed. Harry was giving nothing away. ‘Was there something that you wanted or are you just bored and calling to be a bother to me?’

  ‘I was on my way over to see you; I thought we’d have a chat.’

  ‘Too late, I’m ready to go out.’

  ‘Well, before you go, get your ears around what I am about to tell you.’ Harry’s voice was serious. ‘I think I’ve discovered something that you might need to know.’

  CAMILLA WASN’T AT WORK. She was finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate on her job and having been told the previous day that her court case had been bought forward to the following week, she’d decided to call in sick and take a day off.

  Work was proving difficult, with the MD on the missing list and not answering any of her calls. Not that this was an unusual situation. John often went off for several days at a time to play golf or to view property but he generally kept in touch over Castle Care Communities finances. Camilla, as the company accountant, was used to juggling the books but at the moment she hadn’t a lot to juggle with and, if truth be told, the company’s problems paled in comparison to her own.

  She sat at the table in her kitchen. Beside her, a laptop was open, and, in her hands, she held a handful of legal documents, which she studied with care. On the face of things, her position seemed impossible. Anyone with half a brain could see that given the circumstances, Camilla hadn’t a hope of getting off her current situation lightly. With her previous conviction for driving a vehicle whilst over the limit, she knew that a custodial sentence was heading her way.

  But something unexpected had happened.

  Out of the blue, she’d received a telephone call from a lawyer in Carlisle. The lawyer, an aggressive sounding female, said that she’d been informed of Camilla’s case and was prepared to take it on. There was an outside chance that she could convince the court to hand out a lenient sentence.

  C
amilla hadn’t called the lawyer for help and was confused as to how she’d got in touch. She’d asked her to explain.

  ‘All you need to know is that a well-wisher told me about your circumstances and has paid my fees upfront.’

  ‘So, do you think there’s a chance that I can avoid going to prison?’

  ‘Let’s just say that I certainly think that I can assist your case.’

  The lawyer left her contact details with Camilla and told her to expect correspondence, by email, that day. As good as her word, the email had arrived and now, having printed off the content, Camilla studied the papers she’d sent. As she read, she felt a twinge of excitement. From what she could gleam by the information that she held in her hands, the lawyer had come up with something in her defence that could indeed help Camilla, in her hour of need.

  For the past hour she’d been scanning the internet, reading about cases that the lawyer had represented in the past and Laura Hillibrand was, indeed, quite brilliant. Camilla’s eyes lit up as she studied the list of individuals that she’d successfully defended.

  No wonder she was nicknamed Laura the Loophole.

  But who on earth was paying these legal fees? There was only one person that Camilla could think of and with this knowledge, she felt a lightness in her limbs and a warm glow spread throughout her body. Camilla felt a glimmer of hope for the first time since she’d been arrested.

  John still cared about her.

  There was a knock on the front door and, not expecting any visitors, she ran her hands through her hair and straightened her dress as she went to answer it.

  ‘Oh,’ Camilla said when she recognised her visitor. ‘I wasn’t expecting you.’

  ‘No, I don’t suppose you were.’ Hattie pushed on the door until she had enough room to enter Camilla’s house. ‘This won’t take long.’

  ‘You can’t just barge in here,’ Camilla said crossly as she followed Hattie into the lounge. ‘What do you want?’