Page 22 of Boomerville at Ballymegille

‘I went to the silver class, that crow of a woman, the artist, was the teacher.’

‘I haven’t met her.’

Bill began to explain how Lucinda doubled up to tutor the silver class and was an artist too who’d roped him in to her art class the next day. ‘Are you taking art?’ he asked.

‘I haven’t decided yet.’

Bill felt uncomfortable sitting next to a woman. Melissa seemed nervous, putting him on edge. Having grown up in a dysfunctional household Bill had never been interested in women and, with parents who hated each other, their legacy put paid to any thoughts of romance. As he drank his tea and gave sideways glances towards Melissa, Bill recognised something of himself.

She was a shy person struggling to fit in.

He reached for a scone and forced himself to make conversation. ‘What did you do today?’ he asked.

‘Oh, nothing much. I’ve been quite tired since I arrived and haven’t begun any courses.’

Bill wondered how this guest had managed to avoid Hattie’s demanding schedule. ‘I thought we were all here to participate,’ he said. ‘I didn’t think Boomerville was for rehabs.’

As soon as he’d said the words, Bill regretted them.

Melissa eyed the exit. She placed her cup on its saucer, the china clattering, then grabbed the arms of her chair.

‘Hell, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that,’ Bill said. ‘I only meant that I didn’t think people came here to rest, more to energise themselves.’ He pushed the plate of scones forward. ‘Don’t go, please stay and have something to eat.’

Bill began to sweat; he felt stupid and knew he was making a fool of himself. He could hear his mother’s cackle and imagined her contempt.

Idiot, you can’t possibly think this woman wants to talk to you?

But Melissa had relaxed her grip and, leaning back in the chair, shook her head to the offer of scones.

At least she hadn’t bolted.

‘Did you go for a walk or anything?’ Bill began again. He’d noted that Melissa wore trainers and a track suit and he wondered if she’d been out of the hotel.

‘I went for a swim.’

‘Oh, I don’t swim.’

‘It’s tranquil in the pool and enables me to think.’

Suddenly, a ball of fur shot across the room and in seconds had landed on Bill’s knee. Horrified, Bill shoved his chair back to push the object away.

‘Oh, don’t do that.’ Melissa jumped up and, as she reached out to catch Teddy, brushed her hand against Bill’s thigh. Pulling sharply away, she cradled the little dog in her arms.

‘I’m so sorry!’ Hattie called out as she raced into the room. ‘All my fault, where is the little blighter?’

She placed her hands on her hips and looked around. Bunty, hot on Hattie’s heels, had her nose glued to the carpet and began to scoff at crumbs.

‘It’s okay,’ Melissa called out. ‘He’s here, I’ve got him.’

Bill sat down. He was flummoxed. Melissa’s touch had sent shockwaves through his body and now, as he watched her nurse the puppy, he felt a stirring of emotion.

‘Little devil,’ Hattie moved forward. ‘Let me take him.’

‘Oh no, he’s fine, can I look after him for a while?’ Melissa stroked Teddy’s head and let him lick at her wrist, his baby teeth nibbling the soft skin.

‘Well, if you’re sure.’ Hattie took hold of Bunty’s collar and jerked the dog away from a cake stand, teetering with scones. ‘I’ll be in reception; drop him off when you’ve had enough.’

Bill stared at Melissa. Her features had softened as she spoke to the dog and he realised that she was a very pretty woman. His mouth felt dry and he was tongue-tied.

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