Page 102 of Boomerville at Ballymegille

‘Why not?’ Finbar replied and reaching out for a blue bottle, twisted the foil seal. ‘You should visit Rabbit Island while you’re here, it’s just off the west coast of Cork; this craft gin is distilled there, and the botanical ingredients grow locally.’

Finbar poured and added ice.

‘Easy on the tonic.’ Hattie snuggled deeper into her chair and smiled.

What a perfectly blissful way to spend the afternoon.

* * *

Melissa pickedup a cloth and wiped her brow. The cloth was splattered in paint, but she didn’t notice as she dabbed at perspiration on her forehead and face. The weather had picked up again and the sun, scorching an overgrown patch of garden beyond the open window, was hot as it struck the leaded glass, heat seeping across the sill and into the stuffy room.

Melissa stood back.

The walls were now a shade of delicate lemon, as soft as the creamy butter from the local dairy. Having earlier scrubbed and rubbed until every surface and tile shone, the kitchen was transformed. Melissa couldn’t wait to add delicate voile curtains and an old pine dresser, that James had found in an outbuilding. It would be perfect for the pretty pottery and delicate china that she knew she’d find in the many antique shops in Kindale.

For Melissa had made up her mind to stay in Ballymegille.

If Bill’s inheritance was really hers, she’d capitalise the asset and have something to fall back on, but for now, she’d set her heart on making a home in Ireland. She needed to be with people and the job that Jo had offered at the manor was ideal. Everyone here seemed to care about her and they’d promised to ensure that Malcolm, wherever he was, wouldn’t be allowed to come near. Even now, as she worked in the cottage, she knew that James was looking out for her, as he painted the parlour walls.

Melissa picked up her brush and dipped it into a pot of paint. She frowned and chewed on her lip as she ran the brush along the edge of wall around the window and thought of Patrick. They’d spoken at length the previous day and he’d assured her that he’d not seen or heard from Malcolm for more than a week.

To begin, the conversation had been difficult.

Patrick was reluctant to tell his mother about his business problems, lack of cash flow and dependence on Malcolm. But as each explained their situation and many unanswered questions began to fall into place, they found themselves crying with relief and angst, as the truth came out.

‘I wish you’d told me about your drug problems.’ Melissa spoke softly, cradling the phone as though Patrick’s hand was in hers.

‘I couldn’t, Mum, you were too wrapped up in your life and I thought you’d be furious with me.’

‘Iwastoo wrapped up, but only in trying to protect you from seeing the abuse that Malcolm inflicted on me.’

‘He offered me rehab and cash to start my business, I had to take his offer.’

As Melissa continued to paint the walls around the kitchen window, she remembered her shock when Patrick explained that he had to store drugs on his premises. It was part of the deal, as the goods came into the UK from Spain to be distributed by Malcolm’s network.

‘Are there drugs there now?’

‘No, the premises are clean, I’ve not had any contact for several days.’ Patrick sounded anxious and told his mother that Malcolm had removed all monies from the joint business account he had with Patrick and now he was unable to pay his creditors. In a hushed voice he’d told Melissa that Malcolm had even sent a packet of premium quality coke, confident that Patrick would start using again.

‘What did you do with it?’

‘I trashed it.’

‘Thank God.’

‘I’m not going down that road again.’

‘I can help you, but youhaveto get away from him, pay your staff off and close the business, don’t worry about money.’

‘I can’t just disappear, he’ll track me down, he has contacts everywhere, never think that you can get away from Malcolm.’ Patrick sounded flat. ‘He has to have the last word or action.’

They’d ended the call, promising to speak the next day.

Melissa felt her hand shake and paint splashed onto the window. ‘Damn!’ she cursed and reached for the cloth to wipe it away. Where the hellwasMalcolm?

She shuddered as she realised that it was inevitable that he would track them both down, no matter how safe she felt at the manor.

As long as her husband breathed air into his bullying body, Melissa and Patrick would never be free.

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