Page 62 of Boomerville at Ballymegille

‘Hello, may I get you anything?’

‘Oh no, I’m fine,’ Melissa replied. ‘I’ve had a terrible migraine and needed to lie down, it must be all the travelling.’ She crossed her fingers and hoped that James would accept her explanation. ‘I thought I’d pop out for a walk.’

‘Do you need any medication?’ he asked.

‘No, a walk will sort me out.’

‘Very well, it’s a lovely day, can I supply you with a map?’

‘Oh no, thanks, I’m not going far.’

‘Flatterly Friary, the old monastery nearby, is interesting; the place is in ruins but you can still walk around the extensive grounds.’

‘Thank you, I might do that.’

‘Turn right when you get to the road, keep going and you’ll see the entrance on the left.’

Melissa thanked James again and hurried past. She hadn’t a clue where she was going but the need to arrange her confused thoughts into some sort of working plan was suddenly critical and she picked up her pace as she headed down the drive.

It was bright outside and Melissa reached into her bag for her sunglasses. As she came to the end of the driveway, she turned right. A long stone wall ran the length of the road, as far as the eye could see and Melissa assumed that the derelict monastery lay beyond. With no desire to scramble over a tumbled-down building, she kept going.

There was little traffic on the road and the countryside stretched ahead. Fields, dotted with animals, rose and fell like waves on an ocean and again she was reminded of being at sea. She wondered if, after all these years, Finbar would recognise her. Melissa knew that he was Patrick’s father, she could see it in their eyes. They shared the fiery green that sparkled and held beauty, undeniably captivating. His poise and stance too. Of similar height and build, both father and son had thick wavy hair, the colour of jet, Finbar’s tinged at the sides with grey.

Melissa thought of Patrick and wondered if he’d received her news. In her letter, she’d asked him to call as soon as he’d read it and hoped that she’d hear from him that day. He’d be pleased that she’d left Malcolm, she was certain. Perhaps he’d come and visit her soon.

An engine sounded and Melissa turned to see a bus heading towards her. The destination sign read, “Kindale”. Deciding to check out the local town, she held out her hand.

The vehicle stopped and the door swished open.

‘Where to, miss?’ the driver called out.

‘I’d like to go to Kindale.’

‘I’ll get you there in ten minutes, hop on.’

Melissa paid her fare and as she settled on a seat by a window, her tummy rumbled and she realised she was hungry. With luck, there would be a decent café in the town and she could grab a coffee and a bite to eat.

For now, she’d try and relax and worry about what to do about Finbar when she had a full stomach and a clear mind.

* * *

Malcolm satby the window in the foyer of Kindale House Hotel and yawned. After reading Melissa’s letters, it had only taken him moments to decide to track her down. Since leaving him, the senseless bitch had got a taste for freedom and with her confidence growing daily, he intended to halt her progress, before she got out of hand. Malcolm hadn’t slept and now, as he waited to check into a room, he sipped a coffee hoping that the caffeine would ease his tiredness, following his early flight.

He’d packed a case with haste and woken his housekeeper to tell her that he would be away for a few days. After checking online, Malcolm had bought his ticket at the airport and the six-thirty flight from Marbella to Cork had been half-empty, with a few hungover stragglers from a stag party sleeping off their excesses. In less than three hours, he landed in Ireland and gaining an hour with Ireland’s time behind Spain, a taxi had sped him to Kindale House Hotel in the centre of the town.

‘I hope you enjoy your time in Ireland,’ the driver had said, as he deposited Malcolm’s cases by the desk. Turning to the receptionist, he smiled. ‘Good morning, gorgeous Kathleen, make sure you find this gentleman a fine room, he’s had a long journey.’

Malcolm gave the driver a generous tip then signed the registration form. He waited as Kathleen checked the reservation. ‘Your room isn’t available yet but we’ll take care of your luggage if you’d like to relax in the lounge. I’ll give you a shout when its ready.’ As she took Malcolm’s form, Kathleen turned to call out to the driver. ‘Take care of yourself, Finbar,’ she said.

Malcolm ordered a club sandwich and as he ate, he looked out of the window and watched the world go by. Kindale House Hotel was perfectly placed in the centre of the town, with a green area to the front, surrounded by shops and galleries. Families sat on the grass, enjoying ice-creams, while several young boys kicked a ball. Ahead, on the other side of the road, lay the sea, where boats glistening in the sunshine were moored, as gulls circled overhead in lazy arcs.

At the bus-stop, a queue had formed on the pavement, as people waited to be whisked off along the Wild Atlantic Way, a scenic journey of soaring cliffs, hidden beaches and beautiful bays.

Malcolm finished his meal and pushed his plate to one side. He wiped his mouth with his napkin and looked out of the window to see a bus come to a halt and several passengers get off. A lone woman crossed the road and as she stood on the green, studying the many cafes and shops, Malcolm leaned forward.

He could hardly believe his eyes!

There, within yards of the window, stood Melissa. Her hair shone in the sunlight and as she held onto her bag and looked around, he studied his wife. With her shoulders square and back straight, Melissa radiated a confidence that he’d not seen in a long time and it was all he could do not to run out of the hotel and pound into her with his fists.

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