Chapter Twenty-One #2
It was a perfect autumn morning and the sun was bright as cars tootled along the road outside the hotel.
Hattie opened the door and strolled across the drive.
From her position by the hotel entrance she watched several vehicles turn into Kirkton Sowerby village, where a fete to celebrate the harvest festival was taking place on the green.
Pedestrians mingled, families chatted and, together with a variety of four-legged pets, made their way across the grass to the activities.
Colourful banners were strung across the many stalls and pretty bunting hung from the trees as villagers, eager to buy home-made bread, cakes and novelties, queued as they waited for a turn on the tombola.
Hattie watched the crowds and saw a man in a long dark coat edge his way through the gathering. It was the Shaman and he held a package in his hand. She prayed that he wasn’t contributing to the cake stand. A couple of his cupcakes in the wrong mouths and there would be carnage.
She saw Potter Paul standing behind a stall.
He was selling his wares and some of his students had offered to help out. Hattie toyed with the idea of going over but there’d be no chance of getting him on his own.
She rubbed her eyes and yawned.
‘Are we too early for a livener?’ Sir Henry called out.
Hattie turned and saw the brothers standing by the door. ‘I thought you’d both be at the fete,’ she said and followed them into the hallway.
‘Not on your nelly.’ Sir Henry went into the Red Room and, spying a pair of comfortable chairs either side of the fire, made his way over.
‘Henry doesn’t like that sort of thing,’ Hugo said and sat down beside his brother.
‘Coffee and brandy?’
‘Lovely,’ the brothers replied.
People had begun to drift over to the hotel to enjoy morning refreshments and the reception rooms were filling as guests took their seats. Hattie gave the order to a waiter, then sat down beside Sir Henry.
‘So,’ she asked, ‘are you enjoying yourself at Boomerville?’ The old boy had looked pale and tired in the last few days, unlike his brother who looked perkier than ever.
‘Having the time of my life.’ Sir Henry raised his cane and smiled. ‘Haven’t stopped since I got here.’
‘Perhaps you should take things a bit easier this weekend, put your feet up?’
‘I don’t want to miss anything,’ Sir Henry said.
‘I’ll make sure you don’t,’ Hattie said and moved a pile of magazines from a nearby table as their drinks arrived. ‘But you need to look after yourself.’ She poured the coffee and placed it beside him.
‘Bless you.’ Sir Henry smiled and took Hattie’s hand.
For once she didn’t draw back and, as Hattie stared into the watery eyes, she realised that she was extremely fond of the old man.
After all, she’d known him for years and he’d always been polite and charming in her company.
A touch boisterous at times, but Hattie knew that she’d egged him on, and now, in the latter years of his life, she felt pleased that he chose to spend some of his time at Boomerville.
Hattie gave his hand a reassuring squeeze and he smiled gratefully.
A wave of affection flooded over her and she felt an overwhelming sense of pride that she was part of the Boomerville experience.
Jo was right in her vision, Hattie thought as she comforted Sir Henry.
It was good to be alongside people as they found happy paths in later life.
‘Drink up,’ Hattie said, ‘we want you on top form for the cocktail party tonight.’ She watched Sir Henry pick up his cup and saucer with shaking hands. ‘There are guests arriving today and the restaurant is fully booked for dinner, so you’ll have some new faces to mingle with.’
‘Splendid,’ Sir Henry replied.
Hattie gently took his cup and replaced it with the brandy. ‘That’s more like it,’ she said as she watched him take a sip. Colour was restored to his cheeks. Hattie stood and as she turned Hugo’s hand brushed against her bottom. She slapped him away.
‘Still in fine fettle,’ Hugo said as his eyes ran up and down Hattie’s body. ‘Any time you fancy a canter out.’
Hattie sighed. She wished she’d got the rolling pin tucked into her cleavage for she’d whip it out to deal with Hugo’s roving hand.
She had to give him credit for he never gave up, but recently Hugo seemed to be frisky at all times of the day and she wondered what he was up to, for something was definitely perking him up.
She decided to leave the brothers to their drinks and, making sure that they were comfortable, placed the morning papers by each of them, threw a log on the fire and made her exit.
As she walked into the hall, the door flew open and Bunty, with a neckerchief of colourful streamers knotted around her collar, burst across the threshold, followed by Jo and Bob.
‘Greetings,’ Bob cried and smacked a kiss on Hattie’s cheek. ‘How are you today, dear Hattie?’
Hattie thought that Bob’s fall in the pond, combined with the Shaman’s herbs, had clearly unbalanced the man. He was far too full of bonhomie. She much preferred him when he was grumpy.
‘Fair to middling, thank you.’ Hattie stood back.
‘We’ve had a lovely time at the fete,’ Jo said.
‘So I can see.’
Jo held out an armful of fresh vegetables and several packages of cakes.
‘Like bringing coals to Newcastle.’ Hattie scowled as she examined the offering. ‘Sandra will be pleased.’
‘I have to support the villagers and these are for me and Pete, not the hotel.’
‘Look at what I’ve got,’ Bob said excitedly. ‘Just look!’ He thrust a wooden staff into Hattie’s hands. It was short and thick and beautifully carved with mystic symbols on one end.
‘The Shaman gave it to me.’
‘Fascinating,’ Hattie said and examined the object.
‘He says it’s a symbol of authority, a tool for my spiritual journey and will help guide my path.’
‘It’ll come in handy on the tube when you get back to London.’
Hattie handed the staff back to Bob.
‘I think it’s beautiful.’ Bob lovingly ran his hands over the smooth wood.
‘Anything happening here?’ Jo asked.
‘No, nowt, all quiet on the western front.’ Hattie glanced into the Green Room where Hugo had his head in the Financial Times and Sir Henry was sound asleep.
‘The restaurant is fully booked. James Bond has taken Miss Moneypenny for a spin and Lucinda is out with the artists. Everyone else seems to be doing their own thing.’
‘Excellent,’ Jo said. ‘I’m going to see Pete. I’ll catch up with you at dinner tonight.’ She leaned in and gave Bob a kiss on the cheek.
‘See you later,’ Hattie and Bob chimed and watched Jo disappear down the hallway with Bunty following behind.
‘Time for my elevenses,’ Hattie said and rubbed her tummy.
‘I think I’ll have a nap,’ Bob replied. ‘I feel the need for a little meditation.’ He caressed the Shaman’s gift.
‘Aye, you head off on a spiritual journey, just be careful you don’t sleep on your staff.’
Hattie watched Bob climb the stairs, then made her way on her own spiritual journey to the kitchen and a plate of Sandra’s shortbreads.