Hattie's Home for Broken Hearts: A heartwarming laugh out loud romantic comedy

by Tilly Tennant

  ‘So you make all your guests work ridiculous hours?’ Hattie fired back.

  ‘I’ve told you before, if you don’t like it you can go.’

  ‘Maybe I will! Let’s see how you manage then!’

  Jo stared at her. ‘I’ve managed before and I’d do it again,’ she said coldly. ‘So if that’s how you feel, then pack.’

  ‘You’re sacking me?’ Hattie asked incredulously.

  ‘I’m relieving you of your obligations. It’s up to you whether you leave or not.’

  Jo turned to go inside.

  ‘So that’s it?’ Hattie called after her. ‘After all I’ve done for you, that’s it?’

  Jo didn’t look round.

  ‘No wonder everyone in the village hates you and now I know they’re right!’ Hattie shouted, tears filling her eyes.

  Jo simply let the door close behind her as she went into the house.

  It was then that her phone rang. She pulled it out of her pocket to see Owen’s name flash up. Talk about timing.

  ‘Hey…’ she sniffed. ‘How are you?’

  ‘I’m good. But you sound… Are you OK? I know you were cut up about that donkey thing—’

  ‘I’m fine. Something and nothing. What I’m really interested in right now is when you’re coming to take me away from all this.’

  ‘All what?’

  ‘It’s a saying, isn’t it?’

  ‘I’ve no idea.’

  Hattie shook her head. ‘Never mind. Please say you’re calling to tell me you’re free.’

  ‘Not as such. But… how would you feel about coming to London? To my offices?’

  ‘Would I be allowed?’

  ‘I could swing it; I’ll just say we’re doing a follow-up piece on your story.’

  ‘For a date?’ Hattie asked.

  ‘There’s something I want to show you.’

  ‘Well, can you tell me over the phone?’

  ‘I could but it’s quite complicated and it’s probably easier for you to see it.’

  ‘Can you send me a photo of whatever it is?’ Hattie asked, her recent argument with Jo leaving her feeling unreasonably impatient with just about everyone, including poor Owen, who’d done nothing to deserve it. ‘I really don’t have time to come to London.’

  ‘Well, it’s in our archives so that’s kind of hard to do…’

  Hattie narrowed her eyes. ‘You didn’t…’

  ‘I know you told me not to look but I couldn’t leave it alone. Blame it on my journalism genes – if there’s a question, I have to know the answer.’

  ‘And you found the answer?’ Hattie asked, forgetting that she was supposed to be annoyed with him.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Should I be worried?’

  ‘About what I’ve found? Not unless you’re planning to go out on a boat with her.’

  Hattie’s eyes widened. ‘A boat?’

  ‘Like I said, it’s probably easier for you to see what I’ve found – there’s quite a lot and you’d be able to draw your own conclusions from it. And then maybe afterwards we could grab dinner somewhere…?’

  ‘Owen… I’m sorry, I can’t come to London right now – there’s just too much going on here.’

  ‘You don’t want to know about this stuff?’ he asked incredulously.

  ‘Well, yes, but…’

  ‘Listen, don’t worry about it. I’ll come to you and tell you what I know.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Um… let me get back to you on that, OK?’

  ‘Right. I’ll see you soon then.’

  ‘You sure will,’ Owen said with a smile in his voice.

  Hattie ended the call and put her phone away. She had things to do in the house, though she hardly wanted to go in there now when she knew Jo was in there, but things that needed doing still needed doing whether they’d had an argument or not. And maybe it would be a chance to clear the air. Hattie wondered whether she ought to come clean about her dig into Jo’s financial affairs and her motives for doing that. Maybe Jo would understand that Hattie was only doing it with the best interests of Sweet Briar at heart. Maybe they could start again if Hattie could explain and apologise. And who knew, maybe Jo would apologise – there had to be a first time for everything, she thought wryly. For her part, Hattie was sick of being at loggerheads with Jo; she just wanted them to get along as they had done when Hattie had first arrived at the farm and she’d thrown herself into the work and getting to know the donkeys. Those days seemed so far in her past now, even though she’d only been there for a couple of months.

  With a heavy feeling, Hattie went inside. Jo was in the kitchen scrubbing the cooker top. By now, Hattie would have expected to see some evidence of what they’d be eating for their evening meal as Jo began to prepare the ingredients – maybe grinding her own beef or marinating some chicken – but today the worktops were clear. Perhaps they were having something quick and easy if Jo wasn’t in the mood to cook – and if she wasn’t, Hattie could hardly blame her because she herself was barely in the mood to do anything.

  ‘Haven’t you gone yet?’ Jo asked without looking up.

  Hattie stopped in the doorway. ‘You’re serious?’

  Jo looked up now and held her in an icy stare. ‘Why would I say it if I wasn’t? If you need time to arrange transport then you can have until the end of the day.’

  ‘But what about the donkeys?’

  ‘I can manage.’

  ‘But Jo—’

  ‘End of today.’

  Hattie continued to stare as Jo returned to her cleaning. But then she marched across the kitchen and out towards the stairs, letting the door slam behind her, and thumped up to her room. It made her sound like an unreasonable teenager but Hattie didn’t care. If Jo wanted her gone then she’d go, leave her wallowing in her own misery. Clearly she enjoyed being hated by everyone, so why wouldn’t Hattie want to oblige by hating her too?

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Nigel came to collect her from the farm later that day. Hattie had wondered how long it would take him to issue the I told you so speech but it hadn’t happened so far and she had to be surprised about that, because she’d been back at home for a full twelve hours now. Her parents had asked what had happened and Hattie had told them – most of it anyway. She’d put her belongings back into her bedroom cupboards, had a long bath, changed into crisp cotton pyjamas and it was like she’d never been away.

  It was actually Rhonda who broached the subject of Jo with Hattie over supper the following evening.

  ‘Dreadful woman,’ she said as she placed a bowl of nachos and cheese on the table. ‘I could never understand what possessed you to go there, let alone stay there as long as you did. If you were that desperate to do good then you could have done something medical – your father could have helped you there.’

  ‘I didn’t want to study, though.’

  ‘You wouldn’t have had to study much – you could have done something voluntary with a little training.’

  ‘I suppose I’ll have to get another job,’ Hattie said, ignoring her mum’s not-so-subtle steering. Maybe Hattie would consider volunteering for someone like St John Ambulance or the Red Cross, but she didn’t want to do that at the detriment of earning her own living. She was twenty-six now – no age to be living on her parents’ retirement income with them. Do that and she might as well sit back and wait for her own old age to speed towards her.

  ‘I’ll bet Lance would have you,’ Rhonda said.

  ‘Doesn’t he still have Phyllis working for him?’

  ‘I think he’s so fed up with her breaking things he’d sack her in a heartbeat if you wanted to work there,’ Rhonda said briskly.

  ‘That hardly seems fair,’ Hattie replied.

  ‘I don’t think you’ll find much else in Gillypuddle.’

  ‘There must be something else. There are more businesses than just the Willow Tree.’

  ‘Not many,’ Rhonda reminded her as she took a seat at the table. />
  ‘I suppose I’ll have to look further afield then,’ Hattie said. ‘Where’s Dad? Isn’t he joining us?’

  ‘He’s gone to see Rupert about his leg; he said to start without him and he’d be back shortly.’

  Hattie reached for a handful of nachos, piled high with gooey cheese and guacamole, and began to pick at it. If she hadn’t been so tempted to meddle when she’d first arrived at Sweet Briar then right now she’d be sharing something solid and homemade at the scrubbed wooden table of Jo’s kitchen. Did Hattie feel regret for that? Was she sorry that she’d had to leave? Would she miss it? All day she’d been too busy to ask herself the question but now it came to her and she didn’t know how she felt. She’d miss the donkeys, that was for sure, going into the stable in the morning and seeing their silly faces, as pleased to see her as if they were a bunch of waggy-tailed dogs. And she’d miss that view from her window of the bay stretching before her.

  Would she miss Jo? Maybe she’d miss aspects of her life with Jo rather than Jo herself, who had proved, in the end, to be as truculent as everyone had warned her she would be. Mostly, though, the thing that stung was that Hattie felt like a failure again, just as she had when she’d first come home from Paris. Here she was again, back in the family home, unable to make it on her own, Charlotte’s smile from every wall of the house reminding her that Charlotte was the good girl, the one who was meant to be someone, while Hattie was stuck in this twilight zone where she couldn’t seem to make it no matter what she did. Maybe her dad had been right all along – maybe she should have trained for some kind of meaningful vocation. But maybe it was too late for any of that now.

  There was one thing that her new-found freedom meant – she could go and visit Owen in London now. Tomorrow, when she’d pulled herself together and her mood might be brighter, she’d call him to arrange it.

  Owen met her at Waterloo station. He didn’t have time to drive and fetch her but that was OK; she’d needed a change of scenery and a bit of adventure, and although it was only a train journey, Hattie had enjoyed it. It made her realise just how isolated and insular life was at Sweet Briar, because sitting on the train to Waterloo had made her feel like some kind of intrepid explorer, which was ironic when she considered that she’d certainly been no stranger to travel in the past. Owen was waiting at the gates to the platform looking relaxed and handsome in casual trousers and a stonewashed denim jacket.

  ‘Good journey?’ he asked.

  Hattie nodded. She waited for him to kiss her but he didn’t; he simply nodded for her to follow him to the station exit. ‘I’ll get us a cab – it’ll be quicker than the Tube.’

  ‘Oh, right,’ Hattie replied, wondering why he seemed a little preoccupied. He was cheerful enough but not quite himself. Perhaps it was down to the fact that she was visiting on a work day and he had that on his mind. Yes, that was it – she was seeing too much into it because she was feeling fragile right now.

  The cab journey to Owen’s offices reminded her of how exciting the world could be too. She’d been so settled at Sweet Briar that she’d forgotten how much she loved the bustle of a big city. Perhaps she’d been too settled; perhaps a few more years would have seen her become as dour and antisocial as Jo.

  And it would do her good to engage with the big bad world of the capital – who knew, maybe it would shake things up enough that she’d start to see a future outside Gillypuddle again? There were no jobs in her village, but there were thousands in London. She’d be close to Owen and she’d be far away from Jo and Seth – all good things in her book. She’d be sad to leave Melinda and her parents behind again, and all the other amazing people in Gillypuddle, but it wasn’t like they’d cease to exist the moment she left, and she could go back to visit far more easily from here than she could from Paris.

  ‘You know,’ she said to Owen as they passed the Houses of Parliament, ‘maybe I could get used to living in London.’

  ‘Wow… that’s a big and sudden statement. It would be a far cry from Gillypuddle.’

  ‘Yes, but don’t forget I lived that high life in Paris,’ Hattie said with a grin.

  ‘So you did,’ he said, smiling. ‘But I thought you wanted to leave all that behind and settle in the country doing things that matter…’

  ‘Well, I can do things that matter just as easily in the city, can’t I? Besides, all that do-gooding just ends in disaster, doesn’t it?’

  ‘I’m sure it doesn’t always. Maybe next time don’t set up home with a sociopath and things might turn out differently.’

  Hattie tried to smile but Owen’s joke had hit a nerve. It had done nothing to make her feel any better, nor had it alleviated any of the lingering unease she felt about leaving Jo to continue living alone as she had done before. Even though she’d been forced to go, and even though Jo absolutely deserved what she got, Hattie didn’t want to think of her feeling abandoned and she still couldn’t quite believe that this was what Jo really wanted. After all, she’d invited Hattie to live with her in the first place because she’d needed live-in help, but Hattie had always suspected that it was also because she was lonely, even if she didn’t consciously realise that herself.

  Half an hour later saw them step into the reception of the Daily Voice. It had a surprisingly unassuming frontage, and if Hattie hadn’t known what the building housed, it would have taken some detective work to find out. The reception consisted of a long desk with a young man and a young woman sitting side by side. They both nodded to Owen as he led Hattie across the marble-floored atrium and they regarded her with not a little curiosity.

  ‘Probably amazed I’ve persuaded a girl to be seen in public with me,’ Owen joked in a low voice as he noticed it too.

  ‘I thought maybe it was because I wasn’t supposed to be here.’

  ‘You’re with me – that’s OK.’ He pressed to call the lift and the doors opened. They stepped in and Owen selected the floor.

  ‘Are we going to your office?’ Hattie asked.

  ‘We’re going to the archive,’ he said.

  ‘I’m not going to see your office at all?’

  ‘What do you want to see that for? There’s nothing interesting going on in there.’

  ‘But isn’t that where all the magic happens?’

  Owen grinned and tapped the side of his head. ‘This is where all the magic happens.’

  A moment later the lift came to a halt and they got out. This floor wasn’t as Hattie might have imagined at all. Somehow, the idea of an archive brought to mind dusty libraries filled with ancient tomes, but this was a bright, white corridor with open-plan offices lining either side. Owen walked through with Hattie. Some people sitting at the desks looked up briefly but didn’t seem all that interested. Some were talking on phones and others were poring over scanned newspaper articles on large screens.

  ‘This one will do,’ Owen said. He led Hattie to an empty desk and pulled a spare seat over for her to sit while he took the main one himself and logged on to the computer sitting there. A moment later he gave a grunt of satisfaction and turned the screen for Hattie to see better.

  ‘There… that story, top left.’

  As she read the scanned page, Hattie pulled in a sharp breath.

  Owen had found Jenny.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Owen had taken Hattie straight to lunch after showing her his discovery. They were sitting now in a little Greek place – furnished with rough wooden tables and painted the traditional brilliant blue and white of the many tavernas Hattie had seen while holidaying in Santorini with her parents as a girl. It brought to mind kind owners who fussed over her and Charlotte and brought them sweet treats to finish their meals, declaring them on the house for such beautiful children.

  ‘It’s so sad,’ Hattie said as she pierced a plump black olive with a cocktail stick and popped it into her mouth. ‘It certainly explains why she’s the way she is.’

  ‘Does it?’ Owen asked. ‘I wouldn’t go that far.’

 
; ‘But it must be so hard for her.’

  ‘You’re being too nice about it. Remember what she did to you.’

  ‘I know, but…’

  Owen shook his head and helped himself to an olive from the dish they were sharing. ‘I knew there was something the moment I saw her; I just didn’t know what. It must have happened when I first started to work at the Voice so I wouldn’t have taken as much notice as I would have done if the story had broken now. I’m telling you, if something like this happened now I’d be all over it.’

  ‘Do you think I should go and see her?’ Hattie asked.

  ‘And do what?’

  ‘Talk to her about it – tell her it’s OK.’

  ‘She killed her sister!’

  ‘She didn’t – she was cleared! Her sister died and that’s different. Owen…’ Hattie took a deep breath. ‘My sister died too. So I know how it feels and I could help her.’

  Owen looked up, shock in his features. ‘God, I’m sorry; I didn’t know that. If I’d known I never would have shown you the story—’

  ‘It was a long time ago. I’m not telling you because I want sympathy or I want you to feel bad about what you did; I’m telling you because it means Jo and me have something huge in common and if I can make her see that, I can patch things up with her.’

  ‘I get that, but you really want to help her after all she’s done? Surely you’re ready to throw in the towel by now? She’s made it clear what she wants.’

  ‘I have to try.’

  ‘She’ll throw it back in your face like she always does.’

  ‘I want to try.’

  ‘Hattie – I love your compassion and kindness and God knows the world needs more people like you…’ Owen said, and Hattie was reminded of what Seth had said just before she’d kissed him. For a split second the scene replayed in her head and she shook it away, filled with guilt and shame. ‘But some people are just lost causes and that’s that. How do you know she wasn’t exactly like she is now when her sister was alive? How do you know it was her sister’s death that changed things?’