‘That is not what I meant.’
It was and Hattie knew it. He might be a little put out at losing her services, but he’d have been seriously livid if he’d thought she might be telling a rival all about his operation.
‘I don’t think fashion is where my heart lies. I don’t think it ever really was, though I had fun working with you.’
‘You are happy to be at home?’
‘I am.’
‘And your parents…?’
Hattie had told Alphonse all about the disagreements she’d had over the years with her mum and dad, and she’d told him many times how much better the relationship was when there was some distance between them. Absence made the heart grow fonder but, in this case, it made the mouth behave too. But Hattie truly believed now that once she got onto the right path as far as her life was concerned, the relationship with her parents would get on the right path too. Once she was settled and happy, they’d have to be pleased for her and see that being happy was more important than any high-flying career they might want for her.
‘I’m not living with them.’
‘So… you will not return to Paris?’
‘I don’t think so. Not to live anyway. But if I visit I’ll be sure to look you up.’
‘I would like that. I miss your funny smile – it would light up my mornings, and when Raul left me…’
‘I know; I miss you too, Alphonse, but that life is behind me. I have a new one now, one I want to make good.’
‘You are working in the bar again?’
‘No, actually…’ Hattie braced herself for Alphonse’s likely reaction. But what did it matter? It would be good for the entertainment value if nothing else. ‘I’m working at a donkey sanctuary.’
‘A… what is that?’
‘We care for abandoned donkeys.’
There was a delay – a moment’s silence. And then Alphonse said: ‘Donkeys?’
‘You know: hee haw. Like horses but not as glamorous. They carry things.’
‘Les ânes?’
‘Yes – that’s it.’
‘Mon dieu! You clean them?’
‘When they need it.’
‘You walk in the mud?’
‘When it rains.’
‘They smell terrible!’
‘Occasionally they’re a bit ripe.’ Hattie laughed. She could imagine Alphonse at the other end of the line sitting in his chic apartment, the windows dressed in silk drapes and the walls covered in opulent paper, wearing his smoking jacket and leather slippers, the ever-present cigarette held in a hand that wafted it around as he spoke, shaking his head in disbelief. He’d die if he so much as looked at a hay bale, let alone picked one up.
‘This is what you want?’ he asked after another pause. Hattie had expected perhaps some ridicule, but it didn’t come.
‘It is,’ she said.
‘Then there is nothing to say. Bonne chance, Hattie. I will miss you.’
‘Come and visit any time – I’ll introduce you to the donkeys.’
‘Perhaps,’ he said, but Hattie knew he’d have to get surgery to remove his sense of smell if he were to ever set foot on the fields of Sweet Briar Sanctuary, and possibly surgery to remove his sense of haute couture if he were ever to set foot in Gillypuddle. Hattie’s home was about as far from the café society of Paris as it was possible to get.
‘Is there anything else?’ Hattie asked. ‘Only…’
‘You are busy. I understand.’
‘It’s not that, it’s just…’
‘That is all I have to say, Hattie. Goodbye.’
‘Bye, Alphonse. Take care of yourself.’
‘I no longer have you, so I will have to,’ he said, and Hattie could hear the sad smile in his voice.
The line went dead. Hattie watched as the screen of her phone went black. She’d often imagined that Alphonse might call like this, and that she’d feel some regret over her decision to leave Paris if he did. But now, though she regretted losing his presence in her life – for better or worse he had been a huge part of it and she cared deeply for him – she was unexpectedly content with her decision to come home. Even more than that, she was content with life at Sweet Briar Farm – at least this far, although she realised it was early days.
‘Dinner’s getting cold!’ Jo yelled up the stairs. Hattie smiled. It was cottage pie with a distinct lack of sentimentality. She’d watched Jo grind the beef herself that afternoon. If nothing else, Hattie had never eaten so well. Pulling an old cardigan around her and poking her feet into a pair of soft plimsolls, she raced downstairs.
Jo had almost cleared her plate by the time Hattie joined her at the kitchen table.
‘Sorry,’ Hattie said. ‘I didn’t realise you’d already served up.’
Jo sniffed. ‘Thought you weren’t hungry.’
‘I’m always hungry when you cook.’
Jo offered no response to the compliment but Hattie was getting used to that now; she didn’t mind and she gave them anyway, in the hope that even if Jo didn’t acknowledge praise, it might still please her to get it.
‘I thought I’d go down to the village later,’ Hattie said as she dug into her meal.
‘Will you be back late? It’s worming tomorrow and I need to get an early start. Vet’s coming and I don’t want him waiting around – just another excuse to charge more.’
‘The vet’s coming? Can’t we just give them tablets?’
‘I’d rather have him here.’
‘Oh.’
‘He’s checking Speedy over too – back leg looks a bit off to me.’
‘I didn’t notice that.’
Jo grunted, as if to say that Hattie wouldn’t because she herself was the only person who saw everything that the donkeys needed.
‘I don’t think I’ll be too late,’ Hattie continued. ‘I’m going to my friend Melinda’s house, and as she has young children she gets tired early anyway. Which reminds me – do you think they could come up and see the donkeys?’
‘Who?’ Jo asked, wiping a crust of bread around her plate to mop up some leftover gravy.
‘Melinda’s kids? They’re good kids – they’d be no trouble at all and they’d love to come up here. I thought it might be nice.’
‘I’d rather not.’
‘No?’
Jo shoved the last morsel of bread into her mouth and chewed slowly.
‘Only…’ Hattie continued, ‘I sort of told them it would probably be OK. They wouldn’t get in the way at all and they wouldn’t stay for long. I’d literally just nip them up to the top field with a pocket full of apple and then send them on their way.’
Jo took her plate to the sink and dumped it into the bowl.
‘It would really mean a lot to me,’ Hattie said. ‘I’m so proud of this place and the donkeys and I just want my friend and her kids to meet them – I know they’d love them like we do.’
Jo turned to Hattie and leaned back against the sink. She was silent for a moment and Hattie steeled herself for another flat refusal.
‘They can come for an hour,’ she said finally. ‘But I don’t want them hanging around the place all day – too much to do.’
‘Thank you!’ Hattie beamed.
Jo tugged the liner from the bin and took the rubbish to the dustbin outside while Hattie fell upon her meal. Jo had said yes. It felt like progress.
Chapter Eleven
Hattie was staring at the vet. She was trying very hard not to but she couldn’t help it. He was striding towards them, hand extended in greeting, having just parked his four-by-four on the courtyard of Sweet Briar farmhouse.
‘Jo,’ he said, giving her hand an enthusiastic shake. And then he turned to Hattie. ‘And you must be the new assistant I’ve been hearing about.’
Hattie glanced at Jo, whose expression was unchanged from its usual inscrutable state. When the vet said he’d heard about Hattie, it was likely to be from gossip in the village rather than from Jo who, apart from sharing chores and m
aking extra food, hardly seemed to register that Hattie was there at all.
‘Hattie…’ she said, taking his hand. His grip was firm and confident. Strong. He had dark hair and blue eyes – movie-star eyes, her mum would have said. Movie-star bone structure too. Alphonse would have been swooning and dying to dress him in one of his creations. Hattie’s thoughts veered more on the side of undressing him.
Blushing, she shook off the thought. Perhaps Melinda was right – perhaps Hattie really did need a boyfriend after all. She’d been wrong about this guy, though – he didn’t look anything like the nerdy TV presenter Melinda had shown Hattie photos of. This guy was far, far better looking.
‘You’re American?’ Hattie asked.
‘Right.’ He laughed. God his laugh was sexy too – all wicked and smouldering. ‘The accent confuses you Brits every time. I’m Canadian. I guess we all must sound the same to you.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be. You all sound the same to me too…’ He grinned. ‘I’m Seth, by the way. Pleased to meet you, Hattie.’
Jo cleared her throat loudly, as if to remind them that fun and banter were not things she tolerated. Seth now turned his good-natured smile to her. On any lesser mortal, the effect would have been stunning, but Jo hardly flinched.
‘So which fella are you having trouble with?’ Seth asked.
‘Speedy.’
‘Only he’s not so speedy right now,’ Hattie put in. Jo glared at her and she blushed again. ‘I only meant because of his leg,’ she mumbled.
‘OK, cool.’ Seth clapped his hands together. ‘Want to tell me about it while we walk up to the field?’
Jo began to fill him in on her concerns, her tone brisk and business-like, while Hattie followed, feeling more than a little like a chastised child. She could put up with Jo’s stony silences and monosyllabic instructions forever and a day, but somehow this had offended her, because of the way it had happened – in front of Seth. It mattered because Seth had seen it, and in some way it had diminished her in his eyes. She was also beginning to wish she’d made a bit more effort with her appearance that morning. However, a later than planned finish with Melinda the evening before, as well as her flawed assumption that the new vet wouldn’t be worth getting up half an hour earlier to comb her hair, meant that she’d got up in a hurry, thrown on some old jeans and scraped her hair back into a ponytail that felt almost as limp and lifeless as the one Jo usually sported. At least Hattie’s mum had treated her to a top-up of her auburn hair colour on arrival back in Gillypuddle, because the only thing that would have made her hair look worse than it did right now would have been the very visible roots she’d had when she’d come back from Paris.
As Jo talked, Seth glanced behind and threw Hattie a warm smile. Hattie’s misbehaving heart began to gallop and she suspected it was a lot faster than Speedy could move right now.
Stop it, she warned herself, this is absolutely ridiculous.
But then Seth dropped back, slowing his pace so that he was level with Hattie. Jo hardly noticed and continued to walk with purpose, face forward, and soon she was way ahead of them.
‘So,’ he asked Hattie, ‘how are you settling in here?’
‘It’s great! I love it here already. I love the donkeys. In fact, I just love animals.’
Ugh. Stop it, Hattie!
‘You do?’ Seth asked. ‘A girl after my own heart then. So Jo’s not working you too hard?’
‘Well, of course she is – it wouldn’t be Jo if she wasn’t. But I don’t mind that.’
‘Word on the street is you just got back from a couple of years in Paris.’
‘What street’s that then?’
‘It’s…’ Seth looked confused and Hattie wanted to slap herself for such a stupid comment.
‘Sorry, I’m being silly. It’s a bit early for my brain to be working,’ she excused. ‘Yeah, I got back a few weeks ago.’
‘I guess it’s quite a culture shock then? Swapping Paris for Gillypuddle.’
‘Not really. I mean, obviously they’re very different places but I grew up in Gillypuddle so I’m used to it.’
‘Ah, that’s right. Now that you say it, I had heard that.’
Hattie wondered who’d been volunteering so much information about her. She’d bet it was Lance at the Willow Tree – he was the biggest gossip in Gillypuddle and there was some serious competition for that accolade.
‘So you speak French?’ he asked.
‘A little. Probably not as well as I should considering I lived there for so long. I think my boss partly employed me because of my English really.’
‘I had to learn both at school – French and English. You know, on account of the French-speaking regions.’
‘Oh, right. Do you use it much?’
‘Not so much these days – there’s not much call for it in these parts. Unless you ever fancy a conversation in French for old times’ sake?’
Hattie blushed deeply again. Was this flirting? Surely not considering the state she looked this morning. Now more than ever she wished she’d got up a little earlier to do something with her hair. Next time Melinda told her someone was hot, maybe she’d take a bit more notice.
‘Why did you come to Gillypuddle? Where were you before?’
‘Oxford for a while with my… well, I lived in Oxford when I first came to the UK.’
‘What made you come to the UK?’
‘A friend,’ he said with a smile that looked sad and far away. Hattie wondered who this friend was, but it didn’t seem like a question she could ask.
‘And you swapped Oxford for Gillypuddle?’ she asked instead.
‘There was a job here with good prospects and the village looked OK.’
‘Now that you’re here… it can be a culture shock if you’re not used to village life.’
‘I like it. The community’s good and the work is interesting.’ He shrugged. ‘I can see myself staying here.’ He turned to look directly at Hattie. ‘You liked Paris?’
‘It was wonderful.’
‘What made you leave?’
‘Oh, I lost my job. Nothing serious – the work just wasn’t there anymore.’ Hattie didn’t think now was the time to bring up her accidental arson. ‘I just thought maybe it was a sign to come home.’
‘I guess life is quiet here after somewhere like that.’
‘It is but I don’t really miss it. I think being there for so long got all that out of my system. Although I do miss some things about it.’
‘Like what?’
‘Like the air of excitement. Everywhere is buzzing, something is always happening. And I miss the culture – the galleries and interesting people doing interesting jobs. Sometimes I miss the food too, although I have to say that Jo’s cooking is so amazing that she’s definitely helped me get over that.’
Seth raised his eyebrows. ‘Jo’s a good cook?’
‘Amazing. I mean, it’s basic stuff but she does it so well.’
‘Wow, I never had her down as the cooking sort.’
‘Well, she has to cook if she’s going to eat.’ Hattie laughed lightly. ‘That alone makes her the cooking sort.’
‘I guess that makes us all the cooking sort then.’
‘Do you cook?’
‘When I have time, which is not nearly as often as I’d like. How about you?’
‘To be honest I probably could if I tried but I’m a bit lazy. I help Jo out but she likes to do it, so I don’t really need to. I didn’t cook a lot in Paris either. I either ate out with friends or ate sandwiches and crisps at home.’
‘Too busy to cook?’
‘I worked pretty unsociable hours.’
‘What did you do?’
‘I was sort of… well, sort of a dogsbody really.’
‘Now I’m intrigued.’
‘It’s not nearly as interesting as it sounds.’
‘What line of business was it?’
‘Fashion.’
‘Wow�
�’ At this, Seth looked genuinely impressed. ‘Working in Paris in fashion? And you swapped that for this?’
‘Like I said, it’s not nearly as glamorous as it sounds. I mostly ran about fetching coffees and pastries for my boss.’
‘It’s still running about for coffee in Paris – makes it glamorous in my book.’
Jo cleared her throat loudly again. Hattie had almost forgotten she was there and she wondered if Seth had too because his line of questioning had been about pretty much anything except what he was there for. She wondered if Jo disapproved of it, but, as always, it was hard to tell from the inscrutable look on her face. But they’d arrived at the field anyway. As always, the little band of donkeys turned as one as they walked to the gate and Jo clicked to call them over. It seemed that some of them were familiar with Seth and had perhaps had less than pleasant dealings with him because, for once, not all of them trotted over in the hope that Jo’s pockets would be filled with treats.
‘It looks like Muhammad will have to go to the mountain,’ Seth said with a grin. He didn’t wait for Jo to open the gate, but vaulted over the fence and strode off across the field towards a donkey whose coat was a sort of malted chocolate colour. Hattie gazed after him and even Jo looked a little bit impressed. She let herself and Hattie into the field and then closed the gate. They followed Seth.
‘He knows which is Speedy?’ Hattie asked.
‘He knows them all.’
‘Does he come up here a lot then? It took me ages to get used to who’s who and I’ve been living here.’
‘It’s what he does.’
‘I suppose so. I suppose he notices features the rest of us don’t on account of being a vet and really into animals.’
Jo grunted. Hattie looked back across the field to see Seth trying to steady Speedy as he ran a hand down his leg.
‘There’s a bit of swelling,’ he said, straightening up as they approached. Hattie couldn’t help but be impressed again – they hadn’t even had the chance to tell him which leg it was; he’d just spotted it straight away.
‘Will it need an X-ray?’ Jo asked.
‘I’ll be able to tell you better when I’ve had a good look – might not be a bad idea to rule things out, though I doubt it’s a break of any sort. But of course, there’s extra cost involved…’
Hattie's Home for Broken Hearts: A heartwarming laugh out loud romantic comedy Page 9