Page 50 of Boomerville at Ballymegille

‘Stretching her fine legs and taking some exercise,’ Finbar said. ‘If you’re worried, I’ll stroll that way and see if I can find her.’

‘That would be a help; she’s in charge of the restaurant tonight and needs to get a move on. I need to talk to Connor and make sure that he has everything ready for dinner. It has to be perfect.’

‘Don’t be worrying yourself, we’re sucking the diesel now.’

‘Er, yes, quite.’

Puzzled, Jo stared at Finbar. His hair shone in the sunlight and his teeth gleamed as his handsome face broke into a smile. Tucking his hands into his pockets, he turned to stroll away and search for Hattie.

* * *

At the endof the garden, Hattie was preoccupied and didn’t hear Finbar as he approached the cottage. She wasn’t expecting visitors and as her brain wrestled with the tasks in hand, she was unaware that he’d made his way down the uneven path to the open door.

Hattie stood in what once had been a parlour and admired her handywork. The room had been swept clean, with windows washed and surfaces dusted. Devoid of furniture, the linoleum floor was cracked in places and curled away from the edge of an old tiled fireplace. An iron latch held the windows together as trees brushed against glass as thick as a beer bottle. Like the stone walls, the windows, though old, were made to last.

Hot and dusty, Hattie had knotted a scarf around her head and damp curls poked out, clinging to her forehead. She looked around and nodded; it was the last room in the cottage to have her broom and mop treatment and she was satisfied with her efforts. In the kitchen she placed her cleaning materials next to an old stone sink and, running water from a creaking tap, she washed her hands and face, lifting the skirt of a grubby apron to dry her skin. She removed the apron, glanced at her watch and tutted, knowing that she needed to get back to the manor. Jo would be wondering where she’d got to and would no doubt be having kittens, as her nerves built for the evening ahead.

It was time for a pick-me-up and Hattie closed the kitchen door to step into the hallway.

‘What’s a pretty girl like you doing in an old place like this?’

‘Jesus, Finbar!’ Hattie gripped her chest and staggered back. ‘What in the devil’s name are you doing standing there and scaring the living daylights out of me?’

Finbar appeared from the shadow of the doorway. As he moved forward, he held out his hands. ‘I’ve been sent as a search party and here you are.’

Hattie knocked his hands away and was angry as she stormed past. ‘I’m not lost and I don’t need anyone to come looking for me.’

Curious to see what Hattie was up to, Finbar stuck his head around the parlour doorway. ‘What would you be doing in here?’ He sniffed as a strong aroma of cleaning products wafting through the room. ‘This place hasn’t been lived in for years.’

‘None of your damned business,’ Hattie snapped. ‘Now come away and we’ll go back to the manor.’

They left the cottage and as they stepped into the sunshine, Finbar tapped his nose.

‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘You may be acting the maggot but whatever your secret is, you can rest assured that it’s safe with me.’

‘Aye, well that’s as may be, but you mustn’t tell Jo where I was.’

As they walked side by side through the garden, Finbar began to whistle.

Digging about in her pocket, Hattie found her mobile phone and stared at the screen. She’d had a message from Alf that the Cumbria party had managed an early start and were making their way by road from Marland to Holyhead, then a ferry across the Irish Sea, to arrive in Dublin before heading south via Cork to Kindale. Alf reckoned that the journey would take about ten hours, plus stops. Hattie calculated that by late evening, the manor would have many more guests to accommodate.

Jo was going to have a fit.

Oh well, she thought, there was no point in enlightening her friend until she had to.

* * *

In the middleof the Irish Sea, a twin-hulled Catamaran with six hundred passengers on board was hurtling across the water. Mid-way between Holyhead, on the island of Anglesey, and Dublin sitting on the east coast of Ireland, the high speed craft pitched and rolled against the breakers, whipped up by gusting winds. Despite the warmth from the sun hovering above in a glorious June sky, the sea was choppy as the boat crashed through the waves.

Gathered on bench-style seating, in clustered groups, the party from Cumbria were enjoying light snacks. Audrey and her Babes were tucking into the sandwiches she’d prepared earlier, with the addition of ice-cream and cake from a self-service brasserie, while Willie poured himself a cup of tea and ate from a foil wrap containing a selection of samosas from Biddu’s hamper. Alf stood at the bar with Harry, both savouring a pint of Guinness and as the boat sliced through the sea, they gripped their glasses and held on tight.

Melissa was worried about leaving Bunty, Ness and Teddy on the coach during the crossing and had volunteered to stay with them. With a bowl of fresh water, doggie treats and Melissa’s undivided attention, the animals were happy and contented.

In the gift shop, Lucinda was examining a display of watches as an assistant hovered, inviting her to try anything that caught her eye. With a disdainful glare, she waved the man away and turned from the cabinet, wrapping her velvet coat tightly around her thin body. She reached into her bag for cigarettes and a holder.

‘You can’t smoke in here,’ the assistant said, a look of horror crossing his pale face as he watched Lucinda remove a cigarette and place it in the holder. ‘I’ll report you.’

‘Don’t flap,’ she replied, holding the smoking apparatus aloft. ‘Which way to the open deck?’

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