Page 10 of Boomerville at Ballymegille

Bill shrank back as hands reached out. He struggled to catch names and stared in horror at the women. The Boomerville Babes were an aquatic team, recently formed from local ladies from the village, headed up by a farmer’s wife named Audrey. In addition to their training, they enjoyed dining with hotel guests after a session in the pool.

Bill visualised the rotund middle-agers in spandex suits and little else. Blushing, he turned to Melissa for help but her seat was empty and her slim, elegant figure could be seen leaving the dining room.

Bill picked up a canapé and, as he began to eat, he wondered what the hell he’d let himself in for.

5

The following morning, Jo rose early. She dug out a tracksuit and as she slipped it on, heard gentle snores rippling from Hattie’s room. Tiptoeing past, she went downstairs. Bunty was asleep in the living room, sprawled on a window seat with one paw dangling. As the dog sensed her mistress approach, her tail thumped on the padded cushion and she opened one eye.

Reaching out, Jo stroked the silky brown fur. ‘Good morning, my darling,’ she said as Bunty raised her head and nuzzled into the familiar hand.

A pair of discarded trainers lay on the floor and Jo tugged them on then grabbed a fleecy jacket from the back of a chair. Bunty slid to the floor and raced into the utility room where she stood by the door and woofed.

‘I’m coming,’ Jo said.

Outside, the sky was mostly grey but a band of salmon pink cut through the cloud and as Jo marched across the gravel path, with Bunty bounding ahead, she looked out towards the fells. A hazy mist was lifting and Jo felt her spirits rise as the familiar scene beckoned. She loved her early morning walk; it was the perfect start to the day and gave her an opportunity to put her thoughts in order. She’d much to think about and plan and Hattie’s return could not have come at a better time.

Jo unlatched the gate leading to the meadow at the end of the garden and Bunty, nose to the ground, followed a scent where a baby rabbit lolloped ahead, its earthen coat undetected by the canine predator. A white tail bobbed as it moved across the springy ground and, sensing her prey, Bunty looked up. She woofed as she gave chase but the rabbit shot off and soon found safety by plunging deep into a nearby warren.

Reaching into her pocket, Jo felt the soft leather binding of a notebook. Folded neatly into the pages lay a copy of an email she’d received the previous day. It contained confirmation that her offer on a property in Southern Ireland had gone through and her solicitors, instructed by her request, had completed the sale. A member of staff who had managed the house for the previous owner would stay on to hand over the property, and Jo’s vision of rolling her business out to another location was soon to become reality. If Hattie was prepared to take up the temporary post of manager in Cumbria, Jo could head off and begin the process of opening another Boomerville.

At the end of the meadow she climbed over a stile, where a well-trodden path led to the foot of the fells. A thick brown stitching of walls, crafted by Cumbrian stonemasons over the centuries, zigzagged across the fields and Bunty bounded over the familiar territory.

Jo had the urge to run. She wasn’t sure what she was running from or perhaps, she wondered as she picked up her pace, what she might be running to. Instinct was telling her to do something new, to practice what she preached at Boomerville and not settle for the sedentary life that she could so easily fall into as the years rolled by. Another business would keep her occupied with fresh ideas and motivation, a formula she’d perfected with retreats for mid-lifers and was keen to roll out.

But as she began to jog, there was something else on her mind.

Her relationship with Pete felt different. He’d been distant in the last couple of weeks and she wondered if there was something wrong. She’d tried to liven things up by suggesting new places to visit or perhaps a holiday to an exotic location, and even a bit more adventure in the bedroom.

But he hadn’t been interested.

Her beautiful underwear and the recent purchase of a silky negligee were a waste of time and Jo wondered if he was experiencing some sort of “men’s trouble”, for Pete wasn’t interested in making love. Perhaps it was his age? She’d heard that middle aged men often struggled with their libido. Pete had always been an enthusiastic and affectionate lover, but recently all he wanted to do was tinker about on his vintage tractors and attend steam engine rallies. Pete was kind and good-looking and she’d known him for many years before they got together and in her own way she was terribly fond of him, but whatever was bothering him needed to be discussed.

As she jogged with Bunty alongside, she made her mind up to talk to Pete. She had much to do in her new venture and would be spending a considerable amount of time away; it could put further strain on their relationship.

She began to retrace her steps. When she reached the meadow, she turned to look for Bunty. The dog bounded across the meadow, which was a patchwork of green, shadowed by passing clouds. As the sun peeked out, a beam fell gently on the gracious old building ahead. Bathed in a pinkish and mauve light, with Great Gun Fell a magnificent backdrop, the hotel stood proudly and Jo felt her heart swell. She knew that her decision was right and her vision for another Boomerville was about to become reality.

She watched Bunty wriggle through the hole underneath the stile and, as Jo leapt over, she called out, ‘Come on, we’ve got a job to do!’ and together they sprinted across the lawn.

* * *

‘I heard you go out,’Hattie said when Jo and Bunty bounced into the kitchen. The dog began to paw at her bowl and demand breakfast.

‘Sorry, I thought you were asleep.’

‘Hardly, there’s things I need to do.’ Hattie reached for the kettle and flicked a switch. ‘Coffee?’ she asked.

‘Black, please.’

‘Aye, I haven’t forgotten.’

Hattie spooned instant coffee and pushed a steaming mug towards Jo.

‘I must talk to you,’ Jo began.

‘No need, I’ve seen the paperwork on your desk.’ Hattie rummaged about in the pocket of her dressing gown. She pulled out a fluff-covered biscuit and took a bite. ‘Have you got a completion date?’

Jo, who’d opened the fridge and found a plate of left-over meat, looked up. Hattie never ceased to surprise. ‘The sale has just gone through,’ she replied.

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