Page 11 of Boomerville at Ballymegille

‘Nice one.’ Hattie looked thoughtful as she munched. ‘I’ll hold the fort, you needn’t worry. Boomerville will be in safe hands while you set the new place up, but you’ll need to think about replacing me when you’re up and running.’

Bunty began to bark and Jo filled a bowl with meat and placed it on the floor. She gazed out of the window and sighed with relief. Her friend had agreed to take over, even if only on a temporary basis.

Hattie left the kitchen and settled herself on a rocker in the living room. ‘Come on then,’ she said, ‘let’s hear all about it.’

Leaving Bunty to her breakfast, Jo followed. ‘You won’t mind me being away?’

As she unzipped her fleece, the notebook fell out of the pocket, sending the email fluttering across the floor.

‘I think I can cope.’ Hattie leaned over and picked up the email. As she read, she let out a long whistle.

Jo sat on the window seat, Bunty by her side.

‘It’s a steal, you’ve got a bargain,’ Hattie said. ‘Flatterly Manor will make a brilliant Boomerville.’

‘Yes, it certainly is a bargain.’

‘But can you handle the ghosts?’

Hattie sipped her coffee and watched Jo, who was gazing out of the window, her eyes studying the distant fells. Hattie wondered if memories of a Caribbean holiday, some years ago, were still as firmly imprinted in Jo’s head as they were in her own.

For the holiday had changed the course of Jo’s life.

It had sown the first seeds for Jo’s new business and, as the tropical sun set on their final day on the beach in Barbados, the idea for Boomerville had been born. The thought of bringing her deserted and fading old hotel back to life, as a retreat for mid-lifers, following the sudden death of her husband, had ended a year of mourning for Jo and, together, they’d sipped cocktails and made plans.

Hattie was thoughtful as she rocked in her chair and remembered a very different Jo who’d returned from the Caribbean. The grieving widow was gone and determined to get on with her life; she’d started again and created Hotel Boomerville. But Hattie was acutely aware that something else had happened during their holiday.

Both women had found excitement and romance, Hattie in the arms of Mattie, a handsome local, whose intense eyes and delicious dark skin, combined with an eclectic personality and passion for Hattie, had bowled her over. For Jo, a holiday romance had hit her like the hurricanes that raged through the islands in the autumn months of the year. Jo had fallen for an ageing rock star, who’d swept her off her feet. Long Tom Hendry had been performing concerts on the island and from their first meeting the attraction was electrifying, sending volts of emotion surging through Jo to remind her that she could still attract love in her life.

Hattie reached into her pocket and found another biscuit. As she sipped her coffee and munched, she sighed. She’d never understood how Jo’s romance had ended. Despite Long Tom urging Jo to take a leap of faith and live with him, she’d returned to Cumbria and into the arms of Pete.

‘I presume the seller of Flatterly Manor is Long Tom Hendry?’ Hattie raised her eyebrows. ‘It’s an incredible quirk of fate that the property belongs to your old lover.’

‘It is an interesting fluke but I honestly had no idea.’

‘But you knew he lived in Ireland?’

‘I haven’t chased him down over the years, our relationship was short-lived.’ Jo fidgeted in her seat. ‘I’m told that since his last marriage broke up he lives in Los Angeles. Flatterly Manor has been empty for some time.’

‘Aye, that’s just as well.’ Hattie drained her mug. ‘You don’t want to be starting all that up again, not now that Pete has his mucky old boots firmly under your table.’

Jo stood up and took the email from Hattie. ‘Pete spends all his time with his tractors,’ she said. ‘I doubt he’ll notice my absence, he seems so distant these days.’ She placed the correspondence on her desk. ‘And Long Tom is the last person I want to see.’

Hattie had found a box of fudge on the table. She popped a chunk into her mouth and began to chew. ‘When are you going?’ she asked, as the thick creamy substance melted on her tongue.

‘I want to go as soon as possible. There’s a former employee looking after the property since the sale; he’ll do a hand-over but it’s a big place to stand empty and I need to be there. Will you be alright to take over here?’

‘Why not? I’ve nowt else to occupy myself with.’ Hattie poked at her teeth with a finger. ‘My house is a mess but I’ve builders there sorting it out.’

‘Then I’ll leave as soon as I can book a flight. I need to make plans.’

‘Aye, get yourself away.’ Hattie took another piece of fudge. ‘And make sure it’s not all work; a bit of Irish craic will do you the world of good.’

Jo moved about the room, gathering paperwork before plonking herself down in front of her laptop. Hattie chewed on the fudge. As she watched Jo scan the internet for flights to Ireland she thought about her friend’s relationship with Pete. Hattie had a suspicion that Pete was doing far more than tinkering around on his tractors, when he wasn’t spending time with Jo, and she would make it her mission to find out what was going on.

‘I could leave tomorrow; there’s a flight to Cork from Manchester in the morning. Would that work for you?’ Jo asked.

‘Bleedin’ hell, I thought you might see the week out.’ Hattie smiled. ‘Of course it is, get your arse booked on a seat, then go and get your cases packed.’ She looked around. ‘I’d better get myself up to date with this place.’

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