“I think you need to focus on your work.” Hattie flicked through the diary. “If you want any detours away from this place, go and have lunch with that nice Mark Pucker, he seems a decent sort.”
“He phoned again last night, I said I’d think about lunch on Thursday.”
Jo watched Hattie check the bookings. Thursday wasn’t busy - she could easily slip out for a couple of hours.
“That’s settled then.” Hattie shoved Jo out of the way. “Lets see what you’ve got sorted for this shoot. I can smell a title and a double-barrel at five paces and it looks like we’re going to be wall-to-wall with them!”
* * *
Hattie watched Jo disappear through the bar. She hoped that she’d go and phone Mark Pucker, anything to stop her thinking about John Doherty and that idiot Greg, who looked intent on causing problems. Thank goodness George and Jean had gone home. Hattie knew that Jo hadn’t told her parents that she’d met up with Greg. George would be livid.
Hattie shook her head and sipped a coffee. It was cold and tasted terrible. She wrinkled her face in disgust and pushed it away, then focussed on the booking chart and diary. They should be full at this time of year but bookings were bleak.
Hattie remembered a conversation she’d had with Bertie as they sat in the sunshine outside his local pub. The boys kicked a football about on the freshly cut grass, their knees and elbows green and muddy as they fell about.
“There’s tough times ahead Harriet.” Bertie sipped from a glass of Guiness. “Mrs Thatcher isn’t popular and she’s doing nothing to stop the interest rates rising, property will crash if it continues.”
He’d ordered a bowl of Dublin Bay prawns and shelled them as they chatted. Hattie sipped a cider and watched Bertie dip the fat prawns in warm garlic butter then feed them to her. Hattie wondered what Jo’s borrowings were and hoped the business was taking enough to cover her overheads.
“The stock market’s shaky too.” Bertie said. “I’ve got rid of my shares, it’s too risky. We’re in for a rough ride.”
Jo didn’t discuss money but Hattie could sense that she was worried. Jo kept a regular check on her bank account and paid the takings in as soon as she had any and kept a close eye on spending.
Hattie tapped a pencil against the desk. Thinking about Bertie gave her a warm glow. He was such a dear man. Bertie’s love for her shone with each worshipful look and Hattie bathed in his adoration, she’d never felt so secure with a man. Bertie had introduced her to his two brothers and their endless offspring and they’d all got along famously. Mrs. Flannigan, Bertie’s elderly housekeeper, seemed to approve and told Hattie that it was grand to see Bertie happy again; the boys bought new life to the farm, like a breath of fresh air she’d said. It was long overdue. In the decade since Oonagh had passed Bertie had been lonely. He rattled around in the big old house with just Mrs Flanningan for company and spent far too much time with his horses. Siobhan was fifteen when Oonagh died, still a child but suddenly an adult. Hattie had felt sad as she held a photo of Bertie’s daughter in cap and gown on graduation day. He’d struggled to raise Siobhan on his own - she was a constant reminder of her mother. How alienated Siobhan must have been Hattie thought. The girl had buried her head in her books and left the farm at the first opportunity for University in Dublin. Hattie felt sorry for both father and daughter. Siobhan lived in California now, the trophy wife of an IT whiz kid who earned a fortune in silicone valley. Bertie rarely heard from her, other than duty calls twice a month. He’d visited them once and told Hattie that he’d felt totally out of his depth with the young movers and shakers. It was a world far removed from the gentle green pastures of home.
Hattie had made her mind up to go and live with Bertie. She’d told him at the airport, when they were saying their goodbyes. Tears streamed down his cheeks.
“By God Harriet you’ve made me the happiest man alive. I’ll treat your boys as though they were my own and cherish you with all my heart.” He’d held her tightly, not wanting to let her go. The boys stood alongside.
“Come on you rascals, be good for your Mammy!” Bertie reached out and swung them both in the air.
“I’ll have a football pitch marked out in no time. Somehow I’ll get to like Manchester United, like half the population of Ireland.” He laughed as he hugged them. Hattie went through the gates. As she turned to wave, she saw Bertie standing on his toes to get a last sight of them.
“I love you Harriet!” Bertie shouted, oblivious to the stares of other passengers. Hattie blew him a kiss then hurried to board the plane. His adorable face was imprinted on her mind. She glowed. She’d never felt like this in her whole life and could barely believe it was happening to her. To find love again when she least expected it! Hattie’s life had never been so good.
The phone rang.
“Kirkton House, can I help you?” Hattie smiled. “Yes Mr Pucker, she’s available – one moment and I’ll put you through.”
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
Jo held her face towards the sky, the sun was deliciously warm on her skin and she was glad she’d worn a sleeveless dress and sandals.
The Shepherds Inn at Salkeld was busy. Walkers took time out of their day on the fells and gathered to enjoy a hearty pub lunch. Children played on swings and ran around the village green, whilst their parents sat at benches with picnics and pints of local ale. Fine weather and school holidays had filled the area with day trippers and Jo hoped the hotel was equally as busy. Mark Pucker placed glasses and a bottle on the table.
“What’s this?” She stared at the champagne. She’d asked for a lager and lime.
“I couldn’t buy you a beer.” He replied. “You’re definitely a champagne lady.” He removed the cork and poured and they chinked glasses. Jo wanted to tell him that he shouldn’t have spent his money but didn’t want to insult him. Mark seemed a decent sort. He was casually dressed today, in a short sleeved cotton shirt, cord jeans and trainers. She sipped her drink and watched him ease his tall frame onto the opposite bench. He leaned his beefy arms on the table and picked up the menu.
Mark had arrived at the hotel promptly at noon to find Jo in reception. She greeted him politely and told him she was hungry. It was a cue to leave. She didn’t want the staff to see them and have a good gossip, but Hattie had appeared from no where and made a great fuss of Mark. She stood at the window and stuck her thumbs up as they drove away and Jo prayed that Mark hadn’t seen Hattie’s gesture.
They drove through the village and out onto meandering lanes surrounded by leafy hedgerows and lush fields. Farmers were haymaking and Mark opened a window.
“Do you mind?” He asked. Balmy air carried the scent of freshly cut hay.
“No, it’s lovely.”
Mark chatted politely. He told her that he’d worked for the American tobacco company since leaving university and, as northern sales manager, was responsible for a large team. The company sponsored many sporting occasions from motor racing to darts championships and part of his job was to entertain their clients at these events. He loved his job but it kept him away from his kids – he had two children from a broken marriage. His wife lived with her new partner in Surrey and he spent many hours up and down the motorway. Jo listened and tried to concentrate but couldn’t help hearing Hattie’s words,
“Don’t look at his cauliflower ears, you’ll get used to them, all rugby players have them.”
Jo was drawn to his ears. It was hard not to be. They seemed to dominate the sides of his head. Hattie said he was a nice man but Jo wasn’t at all sure that she wanted a ‘nice’ man. Subconsciously she knew that a naughty man suited her far better. She wanted excitement in her life, not safety. She thought she’d had that with Greg and look where it’d got her!
Great Dun Fell appeared in the distance and Mark followed the sign for Salkeld. The village lay at the foot of the fell with the pub on a rise overlooking the green. It was a chocolate box image complete with pond and ducks, cricket pitch and club with wo
oden veranda. They parked by the pub and found a table and seats outside.
“I expect you’ve noticed my ears,” Mark sipped his drink. “I’ll have cosmetic surgery when I stop playing rugby. I really should stop now, but it’s hard to give up.”
“I hadn’t noticed” Jo lied. He told her about his team in Darlington and playing for England under 21’s when he was at university. His caps were proudly displayed under glass domes at home. They ordered their food.
“I wasn’t sure if a pub was ok.” Mark looked anxious.
“Don’t be daft. It’s a real spoil to get away for a couple of hours.”
Mr Knight from the Westmarland Trust Bank sat a few tables away with his wife and waved.
“You probably know everyone?”
“Not at all.” Jo nodded at the Knights. “I hardly get out and any spare time is spent with Thomas. Kids grow so fast, as you know.”
“Yes they do” he replied. “I hardly recognise mine if I don’t see them for a few weeks.”
Their meal arrived and Jo shook out a serviette. She looked at her food, a huge Yorkshire pudding filled with a savoury mince.
“This is lovely. Thank you so much for asking me out.”
“My pleasure Jo, I hope it will be the first of many meals together.” Mark raised his glass and tucked into his food.
* * *
“So has he asked you out again?” Hattie sat at the table and watched Jo spoon mashed banana into Thomas’ open mouth.
“Yes, unfortunately, I wish he hadn’t. I can’t get my head around relationships.”
Jo made swooping noises like an aeroplane and moved the spoon through the air. It landed in his mouth. Thomas kicked his arms and legs and squealed with delight. Pippa leaned against Jo’s legs.
“He wants me to go to the Gateshead Garden Festival next week. There’s a ‘Stars in Their Eyes Night.’ His company is sponsoring it and he’s one of the judges.”
“Well you should go” Hattie replied. “Isn’t Princess Ann opening the festival? Think of the conference business he’ll bring.” Hattie thought of the empty bedrooms and winter months to come.
“Let’s get this shoot out of the way first and then I’ll think about it. He knows I’m busy for the next few days and he’s off to see his kids this weekend.”
“Did you have a snog?”
“Bugger off Hattie. I just pecked him on the cheek and said goodbye.”
“Very chaste I’m sure. Bit out of character for you.”
Jo ignored the comment and scraped the bowl, she managed to swoop the last of the banana into Thomas’ mouth and handed him a Rusk. She broke a piece off for Pippa.
“Greg rang again, you can’t avoid him.” Hattie scratched Pippa’s head. “You’ll have to let him have Thomas, even though you don’t want to.”
“I know” Jo sighed. She unfastened the safety strap on the high chair and lifted Thomas onto her knee.
“He can come for him next week and take him out for a couple of hours. I’m not having him anywhere near while the shoot is here, he’ll only poke his nose in.” She bounced Thomas up and down.
“There’s also the other matter…” Hattie sighed.
The day before John had called and asked for Jo. It was with great delight that Hattie informed him that Jo wasn’t available; in fact Jo was away from the hotel having lunch with a male friend.
“He didn’t sound too happy and really grilled me” Hattie chuckled. “I told him your friend was MD of a tobacco company, played rugby at club level and was entertaining you in some style.”
“The Shepherd’s Inn?” Jo looked up. “Well that will put the lid on things. Did you have to elaborate so much?” Jo tried to hide her disappointment.
“He needs a reality check.” Hattie was adamant.
Ann came into the room with a beaker of warm milk.
“Shall I take the little darlin’?” She said and lifting Thomas off his mother’s lap cuddled him to her ample body. Thomas reached out for the drink and his Rusk dropped to the floor.
“Jackanory’s on the TV my precious, let’s leave Mam to her work.”
Ann held Thomas so that Jo could kiss him and they disappeared up the stairs for story time. Pippa followed, the sticky Rusk gripped in her mouth.
“You’re probably right Hattie. I have to stop thinking about John.” Jo sighed. “Anyway, far more important – are you going to get yourself off to Dorothy’s for some country wear for Ireland?”
“You bet! I can’t believe that I’ll be shopping at The House of Osbourne. Just think, I may even go and scare the silky drawers off our Vera and get some decent undies. That’s if she’s sober enough to serve me...”
As Hattie had boarded the plane in Dublin, Bertie tucked a folded cheque into her pocket and told her to spoil herself. When the flight took off she’d retrieved it and to her utter astonishment saw that he’d made it out for a thousand pounds. It was more money that Hattie could imagine and combined with her winnings from the trotting she felt like all her Christmas’ had come at once. She was overwhelmed by Bertie’s kindness and love.
“Just look at you, you’re glowing.” Jo laughed. “Bertie’s brilliant for you and as soon as this shoot’s over you must get your backside straight back to him.”
“I will.” Hattie smiled. “He phones me ten times a day. Let’s get someone in to help you though. I’ll not leave until I’m sure you’ll be alright.”
“Don’t worry Hattie. The way bookings look going forward, I’ll be laying staff off not taking them on.”
At last, Jo admitted her fears.
“Let’s just get through this shooting party weekend shall we?”
They looked at each other. So much had happened in the last few months.
“It’ll all come right” Hattie said. “What’s meant for you won’t go past you.”
She picked up her pen and notepad. “Let’s go and do another check list for the royalty that’s arriving tomorrow, we’ll show them some real northern hospitality.”
“And they can show us some southern money” Jo replied. “Come on – let’s get this show on the road!”
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
The shooting party guests were due to arrive at any time. Jo checked her watch against the clock on the hall table as it chimed four times, the pretty peal echoed through silent reception rooms.
Jo stood on the landing at the top of the stairs and looked out of the tall windows to the empty drive below. Soon it would be full of vehicles.
Behind her the bedrooms gleamed. Each had flowers, fruit bowls, welcome cards and tins of freshly baked shortbreads alongside decanters of sherry and whisky. The bathrooms had extra towels on heated rails and fluffy white dressing gowns with complimentary slippers. Jo drummed her fingers on the polished banister rail. She longed to straddle the smooth warm wood and whiz down the length but instead trotted down the stairs.
The hotel would soon be full of affluent guests and Jo was acutely aware that one good shooting party could lead to many more and help the hotel’s revenue. One thing was for certain, they wouldn’t survive the winter without them.
A heady perfume of roses, freesias and lilies greeted her. Vases of carefully arranged flowers were in abundance.
Steven was in the bar polishing glass flutes.
“All ready Mrs E?”
“I hope so Steven, they’ll be here soon.”
Jo marched past pedestal arrangements on either side of the Rose Room door and saw Hattie fiddling with Simon’s bow tie in an attempt to straighten it.
“Any time now I reckon.” Hattie called over her shoulder as she shoved Simon’s chin up.
The room was laid with one long central table, silver candelabras rose from mounds of pale yellow garden roses.
“Beautiful!” Hattie said and patted Simon on the shoulder. “The room looks good too.”
Vintage red wine from the Mulberry cellars had been decanted alongside champagne and white wines chilling in large silver va
ts on the mahogany sideboard.
Jo felt sick in the pit of her stomach. She smoothed the crepe of her black suit - the lining had been repaired after Hattie’s exploits but Jo had lost more weight and the suit was loose. She walked through to the bar and Hattie poured her a Cointreau. Jo knocked it back gratefully.
“Action stations!” Steven shouted from the hallway.
Hattie and Jo looked at each other and Jo gulped.
“Teeth and tits out?” Hattie winked.
Jo nodded and they hurried to the front door as two black Range Rovers crunched to a halt on the gravel. The twins elbowed each other and stared at the registration plates - Cider 1 and Cider 2.
“We’ve luggage, dogs and guns for Mr Mulberry and his brother.” The drivers said. “They’ll arrive shortly by separate vehicle.”
“Thank you gentlemen” Jo smiled. “Your rooms are reserved at The Templars over the road.”
The landlord of The Templars had been uncharacteristically friendly when Jo made the booking, it was the first time he’d been civil since Jo moved to the village.
Jo explained to the chauffeurs that Steven would show them how to get round to the courtyard to unload. Sandra and Gerald waited to take picnic hampers which over the course of the weekend, would be filled with food and drink to accompany the shoot. Two handsome black Labradors sat in the back of Cider 1. Jo and Hattie watched the vehicles disappear under the archway leading to the courtyard.
“I hope Pippa’s locked in the house.” Jo bit her lip.
“They’ll not give that mongrel a second glance.” Hattie steered Jo back into the hotel.
“Do you think I should have got her a new lead?” Jo visualised Pippa’s length of rope.
“A new bleedin’ pedigree couldn’t help that one.” Hattie said. “Come on!”
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