Chapter Twenty-Five
Although she missed Xander a lot, having to make do with the odd link to a TikTok or photograph he sent from his dad’s, Hattie found herself extremely busy in the run up to the Golden Wedding celebrations.
She had agreed to keep a weather eye on the lodge for Aiden as it was turned into an Airbnb, which considering all the rent he had saved her over the years seemed fair enough; there were some niggles with Nick’s house to clear up and she had other clients to look after.
And now she also spent a fair bit of time looking after Mary and the house.
She did it willingly but it was no small undertaking.
With the help of Leonie’s spreadsheet, she was working on the seating plan. This meant she had to make a plan for each table, send it to her parents, and then alter it to their ever-changing requirements. While she was on the telephone to her mother, the subject of a dress code came up.
‘You don’t need to tell people what to wear for a function like this,’ said her mother. ‘They will know what is appropriate. Except you, of course. I want you to look smart, Harriet. Nothing “pre-loved”, please.’
While Hattie was accustomed to her mother telling her what to do, it was a surprise to hear the words ‘pre-loved’ on her mother’s lips. She would have put money on her mother having no idea what the expression meant.
‘So it means a shopping trip,’ said Hattie to Mary, who was now almost as invested in the preparations as Hattie was.
‘Or a borrowing trip perhaps. I just wish I knew more what would be suitable.’ She sighed.
‘Maybe I should pop into Cirencester or Cheltenham. It can’t be that hard to find something nice to wear.
’ Although as she said this, in her heart Hattie knew it was always far harder than it should be.
‘So, long or short?’ said Mary.
‘I think a lovely summer dress should do it.’
‘Come with me,’ said Mary, putting her hand on the table and getting to her feet. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever shown you my overflow wardrobe, have I? It’s in the little room along here.’
Mary, it seemed, had a second wardrobe full of clothes encased in plastic covers.
‘I don’t keep everything I’ve ever owned, but I have kept a few really good pieces, that I felt were worth the space.
’ She pushed the hangers along and then peered at the top of a dress.
‘I’ve written a brief description of what’s here – if I can read my handwriting. Yes! This is the one.’
She pulled out a dress and handed it to Hattie. ‘Have a look. What do you think?’
Hattie unzipped the plastic covering. ‘I never knew you had all these lovely dresses, Mary!’
‘I don’t mention them because they are my hidden treasure. I can’t leave you my house, however much I might want to—’
‘That sort of thing only happens in books.’
‘But I could leave you my clothes. In fact, I’d like you to have them now. Clive doesn’t know about them.’
‘Mary, you can’t. They’re valuable!’ But Hattie wasn’t concentrating on value, she was just enchanted by the dress that she had pulled from the hanger and held up to her body.
She turned to a mirror in the corner. The dress was navy blue with a cream collar and cuffs round the elbow-length sleeves. Cream satin buttons went down the front. A very full skirt hung from the waist, landing, as far as Hattie could tell, just below her knee.
‘I wore it with a petticoat which should be in there,’ said Mary. ‘It’s very Doris Day, but so pretty. Try it on! Look, there’s an old-fashioned screen tucked next to the wardrobe. It was my mother’s. Open it up.’
‘It’s probably far too small. Vintage clothes are always tiny.’
‘I wasn’t tiny and you’re by no means large. Go behind the screen and try.’
Hidden behind the black lacquer screen covered in art nouveau birds, Hattie stepped out of her wide linen trousers and pulled off her shirt. Mary handed her the dress and Hattie stepped in. She pulled it up and did up some of the buttons.
‘Here,’ said Mary. ‘Put the belt on. Now, look at yourself in the mirror.’
‘It probably doesn’t fit—’
‘It fits! It looks wonderful. But it needs the petticoat.’
Hattie looked at herself. Her waist looked tiny and she felt wonderful in it. ‘I love it! I can’t bear wearing normal smart clothes, but this is perfect. Elegant but different. Even my fussy mother will approve. Oh, Mary! I love myself in this! Can I really borrow it?’
Mary was as thrilled as Hattie was. ‘It’s wonderful seeing this favourite outfit getting another outing. Try the petti – although it is rather discoloured. You may need to have it all cleaned.’
Hattie nodded. ‘I know a specialist cleaner. I’ll take it tomorrow.’
‘Darling, I understand you knowing about builders and mortgage brokers and all those sorts of people, but a specialist cleaner?’
Hattie laughed. ‘Nothing to do with work. Rose had her wedding dress cleaned by them. It rained on her wedding day and her dress got covered in mud.’
Mary was now sitting down and Hattie realised she was tired.
‘Shall we go back where you can be comfortable?’
‘I’m fine here. I want you to try on more clothes. I love seeing them come to life again.’
Hattie tried on a couple more dresses. The sweetheart necklines, tight waists and full skirts suited Hattie’s shape, but Mary and she agreed their favourite was a full-length dress made of silk with a halter neck.
It clung to every curve and managed to be sexy yet demure at the same time.
But it was the colour that made it extra special.
It was a dark peacock blue but with just enough green in it to enhance the colour of her eyes.
‘You need a long string of pearls and an event, darling,’ said Mary, having directed Hattie to the matching clutch bag made of the same fabric. ‘Somewhere you can wear that.’
‘When’s your birthday, Mary? I’ll arrange something. I’m somewhat of an expert on party planning now, thanks to my parents.’
Mary laughed but demurred. ‘Maybe I am a bit tired.’
‘It is past your bedtime. I’ll help you upstairs. Or would you like a bath before bed?’
‘I think I’ll have that in the morning. Now I’d like a mug of Ovaltine to take my pills with.’
‘With a tot of something in it, to help you sleep?’
Mary smiled. ‘That sounds delightful.’
Hattie spent quite a lot of the night thinking about making changes for Mary, to make living in her house easier.
Putting in an en-suite was one idea, though ideally Mary would have a bedroom and bathroom downstairs.
Even more ideal would be a move to the care home Mary longed for, though that seemed less likely every day.
At least Luke had made a start on a few urgent things around the house.
‘So do you really think I should buy this house, Hattie?’ asked Hattie’s client the next morning. ‘It’s much smaller than I asked for.’
Nor did it have a stable yard, five acres, an orchard and a wildlife pond with frogs, but Hattie didn’t mention that.
It had been a daunting list of requirements but Hattie’s experience told her that when people started looking at property what they wanted tended to change.
And with luck, eventually, they wanted something that was available and affordable.
‘It’s your decision of course, Mrs Conway,’ said Hattie, ‘but I do think you could be very happy here. A big house is a lot of work. What this house has is one really gorgeous, spacious room that you can virtually live in, with smaller rooms that won’t need much looking after.
’ She paused. ‘Plenty of space for you to put in a wildlife pond too. And if you like, I have someone who could do that for you.’
Mrs Conway didn’t reply immediately. ‘I’ve just always dreamed of living in a small stately home. With land. So I could have horses.’
‘Are you sure you want horses?’ said Hattie quietly.
Mrs Conway sighed. ‘Well, I can’t ride so maybe I’d better not have them.’
Hattie didn’t reply. She could see Mrs Conway was teetering on the verge of making a decision.
‘No, you’re right, Hattie. This is a very pretty house in a lovely spot.’
‘No need to decide immediately, but the owners are keen for a sale and it’s not yet on the open market. Why don’t you sleep on it, and tell me tomorrow?’
Mrs Conway nodded. ‘I will. But I think it’s a yes.’
Hattie almost hugged her. Mrs Conway, although a bit of a dreamer, was a lovely woman. Hattie would be delighted if she had finally found somewhere she liked.
‘Let me know. And safe journey home!’
As Hattie headed for Mary’s house and another pile of paperwork her mother called.
It turned out that Hattie would have to go with her mother to visit the venue, which meant staying with her parents overnight. She told Mary all this when she got back, not happy with the thought of leaving her on her own, even for one night.
It took Mary quite a long time to convince her that she would be fine, for, she pointed out, until very recently she’d spent every night on her own. This didn’t stop Hattie alerting Rose and Luke of the situation, and making Mary absolutely promise to ring either one of them should a problem arise.
‘It’s very kind of you, Harriet, to take the time to come and help us with our little celebration,’ said her mother when Hattie arrived at lunchtime the following day. She sounded anything but grateful.
Hattie managed not to tell her mother how many appointments she’d had to rearrange to make the visit possible at the last minute.
‘That’s OK, Mum!’ she said breezily. ‘I’m happy to help out.’
This took a small puff of wind out of her mother’s sails. Hattie was expected to be apologetic for not dropping everything so she could have arrived in the morning, but Hattie didn’t bother to explain. Her parents found the concept of her job tricky. ‘So, are we tasting today?’
Her mother nodded. ‘Yes. If you can drive us to the restaurant owned by the catering company, they’re going to take us through everything.’
Hattie nodded. ‘What time are we expected? Do I have time to freshen up?’
Her mother winced at this Americanism, as Hattie knew she would. ‘We need to leave in half an hour. I asked Mrs Simpson to make up the bed in your old bedroom. She only comes on Tuesdays now.’
Hattie was expected to commiserate with her mother for only having a cleaner once a week, but she didn’t indulge her. ‘Great! I’ll be down shortly.’
Although it gave Hattie satisfaction to annoy her mother, she knew it wasn’t helpful, so she changed into clean jeans, top and jacket. She didn’t look as smart as her mother would have liked, but she didn’t look scruffy either.
‘I’ll just go and say hello to Dad,’ said Hattie when she came downstairs. ‘Is he looking forward to the party?’
Her mother pursed her lips. ‘There are some old friends he’s invited that he’s keen to see. They haven’t said if they’re coming yet.’
‘I’ll make sure Leonie contacts everyone who hasn’t replied to ask if there’s anything they can’t eat. It’ll inspire them to make a decision. I’ll get her to say that Dad is really hoping they’ll come.’
Her mother nodded. ‘That would be useful, I suppose.’
‘I’ll go through the invitation list when we get back from the tasting. Everything is going to be fine.’
‘How long can you stay, dear?’
‘I do have to leave first thing tomorrow, but that’s probably long enough for us to sort everything out.’ Hattie wasn’t entirely sure about this but wanted to be reassuring.
‘If you think that’s time enough—’
‘I can always come again, Mum. It’s only a couple of hours’ drive.’
‘At my age, that seems a lot. Can we travel in my car? I don’t find yours very comfortable.’
‘Is Dad coming?’
Her mother shook her head. ‘Catering is a pink job. He’s chosen the wine.’
Hattie sighed. This sounded like par for the course.
The young woman in charge of the tasting was very patient, Hattie thought, and really wanted her client to be happy.
‘The thing about family boards, where people share,’ she said, ‘is that it encourages people who don’t know each other to chat.’
‘But do people want to be carving and serving when they’ve been invited out for lunch?’ asked Hattie’s mother.
The young woman cleared her throat. ‘A lot of older people prefer to serve themselves. They don’t like to be confronted with a big plate of food. And if the food is still on the table, if they find they do like some particular item, they can have more.’
‘That does sound appealing,’ said Hattie’s mother. ‘Many of my husband’s friends are older than we are.’
‘It would save waste, Mum,’ said Hattie. ‘You hate waste – not that anyone admits to liking it,’ she added, quietly, so her mother wouldn’t hear.
‘Very well then,’ said her mother. ‘Now what about pudding? And do we have to have a cheese board as well?’
Eventually, all Hattie’s mother’s questions and concerns were addressed.
There’d be a selection of puddings, arranged on a trolley, so guests could choose but wouldn’t have to get up to do so.
Several small cheese boards would be made up and left on a serving table and Hattie (and, presumably, Leonie and helpful cousins) would take them to tables if required.
Tea and coffee would be provided even though, according to Hattie’s mother, it cost a fortune.
Before Hattie left, as early as she could the following morning, she was subjected to the dress-code talk again.
‘Promise me you’ll be appropriately dressed. I want to feel proud of you in front of my friends.’ That her mother did not usually feel like that about her hung in the air, unsaid.
Hattie hugged her mother, trying not to feel hurt by this. ‘I’ll do my absolute best, Mum, really.’