Page 18 of Boomerville at Ballymegille

She’d arranged to meet the previous employee who’d agreed to stay on for the hand-over. It seemed an unusual arrangement but given the fact that she was in a strange environment, she’d told herself to go with the flow and be grateful. Now, as she stood on the yellow sandstone steps, where two large terracotta pots lay either side of the doorway, she wondered where the house-sitter was.

As she stepped forward, the door swung open and a tall, distinguished man appeared.

‘Hello, Mrs Docherty, my name is James. Welcome to Flatterley Manor.’

* * *

It waslate in the afternoon when Melissa locked the door of her room and dropped the key into her bag. Dressed in a tracksuit and trainers she made her way through the hotel. Feeling stronger after sleep, food and a burst of song, the thought of a lap or two in the comfort of a warm pool had encouraged her to leave her room.

There was no one about. Melissa slipped out of the conservatory door and turned into the courtyard. Classes were busy in a variety of converted buildings and there was a delicious smell of freshly baked bread wafting from the cookery school, as she made her way across the cobbles.

As Melissa stepped into the reception area, a young girl looked up. ‘Are you here for a swim?’ she asked.

‘Yes, please.’ Melissa peered through the glass-panelled wall, where several swimmers could be seen in the pool. ‘Is there an activity taking place?’

‘It’s the Boomerville Babes, our local aquatic team, they’ll be finished soon.’ The girl handed over a fluffy white towel. ‘You’ll find a sauna, steam room and Jacuzzi through the main doors.’

Melissa went into the changing room and slipped into her bathing suit. Clutching her towel, she ventured out to the pool, where a tall, robust-looking woman, wearing a wetsuit, paced one end and issued commands to eight women. Mature and a variety of shapes and sizes, they wore bright Lycra suits with rubber flowered headgear and created a whirl of colour in the water.

Melissa sat down on a lounger to watch.

‘It’s harder than it looks.’ An elderly lady who reclined nearby turned to Melissa. ‘You need exceptional lung capacity.’

Together, they stared at eight upturned bouncing bottoms as they wobbled about, expanses of pink and mottled flesh in full view, as the Babes stood on their hands in the pool.

‘Timing is critical,’ the woman continued as a body teetered sideways and disappeared under the water.

They watched the instructor leap from the side of the pool.

‘Resuscitation skills come in handy too.’

Melissa leaned forward to see what was causing the commotion. A woman was being hoisted out of the water and placed on the tiled surround.

‘Come on, old girl,’ the instructor yelled and pounded on the prone swimmer’s back. ‘You’ve just done a bit too much.’

Surrounded, the ailing swimmer began to recover and, with assistance, sat up. She ripped off her hat, revealing closely cropped grey hair.

‘Blast and damn, Audrey,’ she said, ‘I nearly had that back tuck in the bag before I blacked out.’

The Boomerville Babes pulled her to her feet.

‘You’ll crack it next time,’ Audrey, the instructor, said. She glanced at a clock on the wall. ‘I’ve got to go, or I’ll miss milking. Well done, ladies.’

Melissa watched the group troop past. Animated from their class, they chatted as they tugged on their swimming caps and reached for towels.

‘They want to enter a regional competition,’ the woman said. She yawned and, wrapping her robe tightly, lay back on her bed. ‘If you’re new here, you might want to join them.’

She closed her eyes and was asleep in moments.

With an empty pool, Melissa sat on the side and slid in. The water was warm and felt like silk against her skin. She moved with robotic precision, stroke after stroke. In this safe place she had no worries. Swimming was her therapist and Melissa gave in.

* * *

After a busy day,Bill sat in the bar at Boomerville and ordered a well-deserved drink. It had begun that morning, in a tepee, when he’d sat cross-legged on a straw mat and faced the resident shaman.

Bill shook his head as he thought about the events that followed.

The Shaman held a bunch of smouldering twigs and, with eyes closed, waved them in a circular motion. As smoke wafted across Bill’s face, his breathing became difficult and his eyes watered.

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