Page 33 of Boomerville at Ballymegille

As she pondered the problem, Hattie’s nose began to twitch. A waft of spicy perfume was drifting down the hallway and she leaned over the reception desk to see Lucinda, draped in meters of white cheesecloth from head to toe. The artist was heading Hattie’s way and though it was tempting to hide under the counter, Hattie called out, ‘Good morning, Lucinda. Are you all set for this evening’s session?’

‘The class is full,’ Lucinda replied, ‘and we’ll need blankets with our easels. I want my artists to be warm as the wind of creativity wraps around them.’

‘Aye, all sorted,’ Hattie said.

The wind that was forecast to whip down off the fells that evening looked set to be gale force and Hattie thought that it would take more than a few old travel rugs to keep Lucinda’s class from catching severe hyperthermia, as they attempted to capture a Westmarland sunset. She’d get Alf to set things up in the meadow, including flasks heavily laced with brandy. The Shaman had been instructed to have a fire going outside his tepee, and those not carried away by creativity could warm their digits and drink themselves doolally.

‘Leave it all to me,’ Hattie said as she followed Lucinda through the bar and into the conservatory.

Tall and aloof and shrouded in fabric as transparent as the sunbeams that poured through the conservatory windows, Lucinda stepped out of the door. She sailed past Audrey and the Boomerville Babes, who were trudging across the patio, returning from the pool.

‘Off to knock up another masterpiece?’ Audrey called out. ‘There’s always room for another Babe in the team if you’re not too busy painting; we’ve got a spare cozzie and cap, if you change your mind.’

Lucinda stopped and reached into a pocket for a cigarette. She placed it in a holder and lit up, puffing smoke rings over Audrey’s head.

‘She can’t swim,’ Hattie said as Audrey joined her. She thought back to the perilous night when heavy rains had devastated Marland and the hotel became flooded. Lucinda had been rescued by the Shaman in his paddle boat.

‘Neither could most of the gang when we started, but an hour or two in the pool and her confidence would build.’

Lucinda didn’t need a confidence boost, Hattie thought, in fact there was very little that Lucinda appeared to need at all, now that she’d settled comfortably into life at Boomerville. Cosied up for most of her time in a room above the studios with Paul, the pottery teacher, Lucinda had, for the time being, found her spiritual home. Hattie suspected that nothing would shake her out of it.

‘Now here’s someone who does need a bit of confidence,’ Audrey whispered and held up a hand to wave to Melissa.

Hattie sighed. Melissa’s face, devoid of makeup, appeared tense. With her hair scraped back into a ponytail, her skin was taut and pale.

‘Hello,’ Audrey said and she wrapped a protective arm around her new protégée. ‘I’ve a new routine that will take a bit of mastering, perhaps you might be persuaded to join us tomorrow?’

Walking away, Hattie thought that Audrey hadn’t a hope in hell of achieving that particular miracle and had no doubt that Melissa would swim alone for an hour then return to her room.

Hattie’s tummy was rumbling and she licked her lips. With any luck, there might be a bit of breakfast still on the go.

14

At Flatterley Manor, Jo sat at the leather-topped desk in reception and studied a computer screen. The new systems were up and running and security cameras had been installed around the hotel. Jo gazed at images that included the garden, grounds and reception areas and thought that it was rather high tech and unnecessary.

But Hattie had talked her into it.

Jo thought that Hattie’s love of snooping and seeing what everyone was up to overtook her concern for security. She imagined Hattie enjoying the footage from the comfort of an armchair, with a gin in one hand and plate of nibbles in the other.

A notepad lay on the desk and Jo began to scribble. She wondered whether to change the name of the manor to reflect her business. In Cumbria, Kirkton House had become Hotel Boomerville but would the name work in Ireland? Jo doodled on her pad and formed the words,Boomerville Manoracross the top of the page.

She stared at the script and smiled. The name worked well.

Turning the page, Jo considered courses. She needed to think outside the box and come up with new ideas for Ireland. She began to make a list.

Self-Defence

Public Speaking

Singing

Gardening

Life Coaching

Cookery

Diverse courses at each destination might encourage guests to travel from one Boomerville to another, thus increasing bookings and spreading the word.

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