As she came out of the vicarage, Hattie felt a breeze on her face. There was a hint of autumn in the air and she buttoned her jacket. She hoped that Alf had remembered her instructions for the weekend and as she skipped down the steps and onto the road, she smiled. Hattie had a party to plan!
HARRY AND ALF were sitting on a bench by the pond in Hattie’s garden.
‘The new barmaid at the Hollybush pub is making quite an impression with the regulars,’ Harry said.
‘Aye, the lads from the Mud Maulers quiz team are running a book, with favourable odds that Reggie will offer her full-time employment on his return.’ Alf nodded his head.
‘I might have a couple of quid on that.’
‘So, Reggie is sunning himself in Lanzarote?’ Alf held a cold beer in one hand and a roll-up in the other.
‘That’s what he says,’ Harry replied. ‘I’ve had a couple of text messages and by the sound of things he’s enjoying himself.’
‘There’ll be some bonny lasses in Lanzarote,’ Alf said and took a swig of his beer.
‘He deserves a break and a bit of downtime.’
‘I thought madam would have gone with him.’
‘He tells me that he asked her, but she turned him down.’
‘Too busy sleuthing, I’d say.’
‘I hear she’s having a party on Saturday?’
‘You’ll be bringing Janine?’
‘If we’re invited.’
A car pulled up outside the cottage and the men looked up. Hattie got out and locked the vehicle, then throwing her bag over her shoulder, strolled into the garden.
‘Here comes trouble,’ Alf mumbled and necked the last of his beer. He bent down and hid the empty bottle under the bench.
‘Have you two lumps got nothing to do?’ Hattie asked as Ness ran towards her, wagging her tail. ‘Oy!
Alf! Don’t think I haven’t seen that bottle.’
‘I’m just having a breather.’ Alf stood up and, stretching his arm out, pointed in a semi-circular motion. ‘You have lights, lanterns and bunting in abundance and the tables and chairs will be here on Friday, with the firepits and a delivery of logs.’
‘Very good.’ Hattie nodded in approval as she inspected Alf’s work. Turning to Harry she said. ‘I’m glad you’re here, can we have a word?’
‘At your service, Miss Marple.’
But as Hattie and Harry turned to head for her office and Alf and Ness made their way to their vehicle, a faint, familiar sound came from the field on the other side of the wall.
Hattie pricked her ears up and held up her hand, ‘Shush!’ she said, ‘listen…’
They all stood, completely immobile, as the sound got closer.
Hattie felt her heart lurch and her bottom lip began to tremble. Throwing her bag to the ground, she hurled herself across the garden and scaled the wall.
‘Drake!’ she screamed.
Harry and Alf were rooted to the spot as their eyes followed the line of Hattie’s backside, which had disappeared with a thud into the field. They looked anxiously at each other, then broke into a run to assist her.
But the sight that greeted them made the two men stop in their tracks.
Hattie, with tears streaming down her face, was on her knees with one arm around a very bedraggled Drake, while the other cradled three little ducklings in her lap.
Alf leapt over the wall and stood beside her, his eyes scanning the field.
‘She’s gone, hasn’t she?’ Hattie didn’t look up. Drake had his long neck draped morosely over her shoulder and she gently stroked his head.
‘The poor little hen,’ Hattie whispered.
‘Aye,’ Alf said quietly, ‘it looks that way.’ He continued to look around.
‘Five babies gone too, was it a fox that killed them?’ Hattie asked as the survivors of Drake’s brood climbed off her knee and waddled over to Ness.
‘I don’t think so,’ Alf said. ‘I’ve seen otter prints round here recently and think they’ll be the culprit.’ He looked at the ground. ‘A fox won’t go in the water, but an otter will, and they’ll have come over in the storm, from the River Bevan, on the other side of the holly wood.’ Alf sighed. ‘Drake may have been in hiding with these little ones, who knows?’
‘The poor dear hen, she must have been terrified.’ Tears dripped onto Hattie’s shirt. She looked up at Alf and, biting her lip she asked, ‘Can you shoot the otters?’ ‘Nah,’ Alf shook his head, ‘revenge is legally forbidden, they’re a protected species. Unlike the fox.’
Harry had joined them, and he reached out his hands to help Hattie up. ‘I’m so sorry, Hattie, I know how you feel about that duck and his family.’
‘Aye, well,’ Hattie choked back a sob and sniffed, she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, ‘we’d better make sure that we look after those we have left.’ She patted Drake on the top of his head. ‘Come on, my beauty, let’s get you back home with your babies.’
Together, the trio scooped up the ducklings and Drake, who seemed on the point of collapse, let Alf lift him over the wall.
‘There’s some pellets in the shed!’ Hattie called out to Alf, as she watched Drake slide gently into the pond, then crouching, she carefully placed the little ones on a soft tussock of grass and smiled as they bounced off, to waddle down the bank and into the water, following their dad.
‘Off you go my lovelies,’ Hattie whispered.
Harry helped Hattie to her feet again and silently they walked down the path to her office. ‘Do you still want to have that chat?’ he asked.
Hattie reached for a tissue from her sleeve and blew her nose. ‘You bet I do,’ she said.
36
In the field beyond Hattie’s garden, that bordered the holly wood, lay a carpet of hay fluffed up to dry in the sun. A heavy machine whirred up and down, collecting the dusty brown sheaves and rolling them into huge bales, leaving lines of close-cropped stubble. Only days before, the golden corn had stood tall, bending to the breeze in a whisper that suggested autumn was on its way.
Hattie and Alf stood side by side. The day was warm and bright but with summer fading, it had lost enough of its heat to be comfortable. Hattie wore a pair of old khaki shorts and a yellow t-shirt that had seen better days. In her hair, she’d knotted a bright blue bandana. Alf, dressed in moleskin trousers and a checked cotton shirt, rolled up his sleeves as he lifted logs from a wheelbarrow and piled them into a firepit. Hattie poked rolled-up newspaper and kindling into place.
‘I thought you’d have laid on some fireworks,’ Alf said, ‘it will be grand out here when this lot starts blazing.’
‘No fireworks. I can’t have the wildlife getting upset, a couple of bonfires are enough.’ Hattie stood back to admire their work. A large firepit stood at one end of the pond and another on the end of the patio that bordered the conservatory.
‘They’ll keep folk warm, if it gets chillier later on,’ Alf said.
He peered at Hattie out of the corner of his eye. Country life was suiting her, and she looked well; her cheeks were rosy and her skin was a soft shade of brown that bought out the green of her eyes. Alf studied her outfit and thought that he couldn’t remember seeing Hattie so casual when she’d been running the hotel, even when she was off duty. And as for her comment, “no fireworks”, he was amazed. Hattie had capped many a party at the hotel with a lavish display of pyrotechnics that had lit up the sky for miles around. She must be softening as she got older, he thought, and taking hold of his wheelbarrow, wandered down the path to load more logs from his vehicle.
Hattie walked around the garden and made final checks to the preparations for her housewarming party. Table and chairs were laid out and a gazebo covered the patio where Alf had placed trestles for the buffet. Hattie had covered all the tables with pretty lace cloths that she’d found in an old suitcase. As she’d sorted through them, she’d smiled when she studied the delicate edges, fine cut-work and pretty stitches that had been worked by her mother and grandmother ma
ny years before. The cloths looked grand in her garden. Earlier, Marjorie had arrived to help, and she’d bought with her a collection of vases that she’d filled with flowers from her own garden. She’d placed them on the tables then helped Hattie to rig up colourful bunting, left over from the fete, that they’d borrowed from the village hall.
Now, Marjorie appeared. ‘I’ve got everything sorted in the kitchen for the caterers, what time are they arriving?’
‘Anytime now,’ Hattie replied and trotted down the path to join Marjorie. ‘I’d better get a move on.’
‘Yes,’ Marjorie agreed, ‘it might be an idea to get changed before your guests start flocking in.’
Hattie wasn’t sure if flocking in was the right term to use. The party wasn’t open-house and she’d only invited people that she’d got to know in the last few months. At the very most, there would be twenty turning up for their tea.
‘There’s a van outside,’ Marjorie said, and the women turned to see who’d arrived. A logo on the sign of the van read, “Boomerville Hotel”.
‘It’s the buffet,’ Hattie replied and hurried forward in greeting.
At Hattie’s request, Judy had arranged for the kitchen team at Boomerville to prepare a buffet for the party and now, as the van was parked outside the cottage, she appeared with two young men, smartly dressed in white shirts and black trousers. They climbed out and began to unload.
‘Where do you want the bar?’ Judy asked as she came through the gate.
‘Right here, on the patio, where the long table is laid out,’ Hattie replied and stepped forward to give Judy a hug. ‘Thanks for sorting all this out for me.’
‘It’s no trouble at all,’ Judy replied and began to issue instructions.
‘How wonderful to have help,’ Marjorie said as she watched the buffet and bar being unloaded. ‘Such charming young men too.’
‘Put your eyes back in your head and your tongue in your drooling mouth.’ Hattie gave Marjorie a nudge.
‘You’re far too old.’
‘One can dream.’ Marjorie sighed.
‘Aye, well, dream your way back to Holly House and get your glad rags on.’
‘I hope you’re going to turn yourself into Cinderella.’ Marjorie looked disapprovingly at Hattie’s outfit.
‘Shite, you’re right, we haven’t got much time.’ Hattie glanced at her watch. ‘Let’s leave the lads to it.’
She issued final instructions and when she was sure that the Boomerville staff had everything under control, Hattie hurried into the cottage to change for her party.
AN HOUR LATER, Hattie stood by the open door of the conservatory, with a glass of prosecco in her hand. She looked out at her garden and smiled. What a lot had been achieved in the last few months. Who would have thought that the sad old cottage could, in what seemed like no time at all, be transformed into the lovely little oasis that she now called home?
Hattie picked up another prosecco from a tray of full glasses, that lay on the bar waiting for guests to arrive. She walked through the garden until she found Alf. He was standing by the pond, watching the ducks on the water.
‘By heck, I wouldn’t have recognised you.’ Hattie handed Alf a glass. ‘You do look smart.’ Alf wore wheat-coloured cords and leather brogues. His shirt was a crisp cotton and blended with his tweed jacket.
‘You scrub up too,’ he replied and nodded approvingly, as he sipped his drink.
Hattie was dressed in a scarlet silk dress, cinched in at the waist with a wide leather belt that showed off her shapely figure. On her feet she wore suede pumps and she’d completed her outfit by tucking a dahlia blossom, plucked from a pot on the patio, behind her ear.
‘Drake seems to have settled down.’ Hattie watched her duck with his three offspring as they coasted across the pond. Drake wore a smart bow tie around his long neck.
‘Got him smartened up for the party?’ Alf asked.
‘Why not,’ Hattie said as she watched Drake dip his head in the water then shake. Drops flew outward and the ducklings swam happily in his wake, creating a classic V shape.
‘Let’s hope that the little ones manage to reach maturity and be otter-free.’ Alf looked up and nodded towards Lover’s Lane. ‘Your guests are starting to arrive.’ Cars had begun to park behind the catering van and several people were heading their way.
‘Trust Joan to be first,’ Hattie said as she watched the nurse-come-shopkeeper, clad in a cape-like jump-suit. It billowed out behind her as she careered down the path to the bar and she held up a beefy hand in greeting as she passed Alf, who’d wandered away. Arnie followed his wife and nodded when he saw Hattie.
‘Did you hear about Camilla?’ Joan asked.
Hattie had indeed heard about Camilla and was aware of the outcome of Camilla’s driving offence, which had been heard in court in Carlisle the previous day, but she let Joan continue.
‘She got off!’ Joan shook her head in disgust. ‘Found some fancy lawyer to represent her, and the legal eagle found a loophole in the case.’
Arnie held out a drink and Joan took it.
Hattie seized the moment. She suddenly grabbed hold of Arnie’s right arm and Joan’s left and having got their attention as their drinks wobbled, she glared at the couple and hissed, ‘Camilla’s not the only one who will need a fancy lawyer in future.’ Hattie gripped tighter. ‘If I ever hear that you two are using your midwifery skills inappropriately, I’ll be on your case faster than a dose of diphtheria and have you up in front of a judge before you can yell “It’s an emergency!”’
Joan, for once, was stunned into silence. Arnie stood very still.
‘I know that Camilla had her abortion in a private clinic but she told me that you two offered to carry it out, for a price.’ Hattie let go of their arms, ‘So think on!’ She glared at the pair. Hattie knew that as nurses, Joan and Arnie would be first to recognise a pregnancy and they’d discreetly contacted Camilla. But their action beggared belief. Perhaps they’d left the hospital under a cloud? It would explain why they never spoke about their previous careers.
Hattie sighed and turning away, caught up with Alf.
‘Is it true about Camilla?’ Alf asked as Hattie joined him. He looked puzzled. ‘Did she get off?’
‘Yes, I believe so. Harry called me last night to say that even though Camilla was over the drink-drive limit, she was acquitted.’
‘How the devil did she manage that?’
‘Apparently, when she crashed the car and was taken to hospital, the surgeon who took her blood sample for the police was also was directly involved in her care while they checked for injuries.’
‘So, what does that mean?’
‘The relevant legislation says that the blood must be taken by someone who’s not involved in the driver’s care.’
‘Are you serious?’
‘Completely. Camilla’s lawyer is very clever and found this one small error that has saved her client from a very serious conviction.’
‘By heck, the lawyer must have cost a bomb.’
‘It seems that Camilla had a benefactor.’
‘Someone paid for her lawyer?’
‘That’s what Harry said and he also added that Camilla thinks it was John Hargreaves.’ Hattie shrugged her shoulders. ‘When she came out of court, she told Harry that she knew that John would, in the end, step in and help her.’
‘Well, I never.’ Alf shook his head. ‘I think I need another drink.’
They turned and headed towards the bar and as they got halfway through the garden, Hattie saw Roger arrive, with Josh and Hannah hanging off each arm, as he headed up his family. Penny followed, pushing a pram.
‘Is that my godson in there?’ Hattie said and leaned into the pram to tickle Archie’s cheek. ‘My, he gets bonnier every time I see him.’
Marjorie had arrived and joined the family party. She looked stunning in a peach-coloured silk trouser-suit and carried a bouquet of flowers. ‘Thank you for everything you’ve done,’ sh
e said, as she placed the flowers in Hattie’s arms. ‘I wish the reason for Barry’s death had been easier to bear, but at least now I have an answer.’
‘Don’t blame yourself.’ Hattie smiled and placed the flowers on a table. ‘None of us will ever understand what state of mind a person is in when they end their own life.’ She touched Marjorie’s shoulder. ‘It may just have been a moment of madness that went so horribly wrong.’
‘But three suicides in the village?’ Marjorie raised her eyebrows. ‘Perhaps there’s something in the water in Hollywood.’
‘We know why Helen and Barry took their lives; it’s terribly sad but it could happen anywhere.’
‘And you think Mary had a moment of madness too?’ Marjorie reached across the bar and took a glass of prosecco.
Hattie didn’t reply. Whatever had caused the end of Mary’s life had mystified her and there were, in Mary’s case, questions that still needed answers.
‘Talking of madness,’ Marjorie nudged Hattie, ‘how on earth has the guest who’s just entered your garden got an invite?’
Hattie turned around as Nancy came towards them, hand-in-hand with John.
‘I invited them,’ Hattie said and stepped forward.
John looked a little sheepish as he saw Marjorie, but she was unrestrained in her greeting and kissed him warmly on the cheek.
‘Nancy,’ Hattie said, ‘you made it.’
Nancy was dressed in a sleeveless shirt and neat cotton trousers. She grinned when she saw Marjorie.
‘I thought you were locked up.’ Marjorie stared coldly at the care home manager.
‘A stupid misunderstanding.’ Nancy returned Marjorie’s stare. ‘But John and I are very thrilled to be out together and celebrating this lovely house-warming.’ She gripped John’s arm tighter and looked smug.
‘No Venetia?’ Marjorie asked.
‘Venetia and I have decided to part company,’ John said. ‘Our marriage was over a long time ago and she’s decided to settle down and stay in Spain.’
Hattie Goes to Hollywood: Shenanigans, fun & intrigue in a new mystery series! Page 30