Page 72 of Boomerville at Ballymegille

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Jo and Hattie sat on opposite beds in Jo’s room, both nursing a mug of iced tea. The room was dimly lit, the only light from a lamp on Hattie’s bedside table. Heat still hung heavy after a day of clear blue skies and scorching sunshine and they’d kicked off their covers, to rest their weary bodies on cool cotton sheets. Hours after the last act had left the stage and members of the public had been directed to their vehicles, the two women were exhausted.

Bunty and Teddy lay on the floor, on a rug under an open window. Their eyes moved beneath closed lids and noses twitched, as they set off on their nocturnal journey. Bunty had one large paw in the air and another wrapped around Teddy, as they slept the sleep of two very hot and weary woofers.

‘I think you can safely say that you have a success on your hands,’ Hattie said. She reached out to the bedside table, picked up a bottle of rum and poured a good measure. ‘The opening event could not have given Boomerville Manor a better start.’

‘My head is buzzing with it all,’ Jo replied. ‘I don’t think I’ll ever be able to sleep.’

‘Have a knock-out drop.’ Hattie tipped rum into a glass by Jo’s bed.

‘I thought Finbar’s choir was very good,’ Jo said, ‘they bought the house down at the end.’

‘Aye, it was good to see the audience on their feet.’ Hattie tugged the waistband of her pyjama shorts suit. She was hot and the fabric clung. ‘Watching Caitlin O’Connelly turn into the Big Bopper was a sight I never thought I’d witness.’

‘She’s remarkably nimble for a ninety-year-old.’

‘Amazing that she can play the piano with her feet, despite the lisle stockings.’

‘She made Little Richard look like a novice.’

Jo took a sip of the rum. The alcohol was soothing and she began to relax.

‘Desmond made a marvellous Elvis.’

‘It’s his signature act.’

‘What a shame that his catsuit split; I hope he’ll be able to get it repaired.’

‘Remind me to check on the members of the choir tomorrow,’ Jo said. ‘I think there’ll be some very stiff legs.’

‘Stiff legs?’ Hattie sat up. ‘More like dislocated knees and slipped discs; I’ve never seen so many pensioners doing a Chuck Berry duck walk.’

‘I hope they’re all okay.’

‘I think you might be organising a couple of trips to Kindale Community Hospital in the morning; you could use Willie’s bus, there’s plenty of room.’

‘For wheelchairs and stretchers?’ Jo smiled. ‘And thinking of guests who let their hair down, do you think the mayor will have a hangover tomorrow?’

‘Hangover?’ Hattie turned, wide-eyed. ‘I’ve never seen anyone consume so much booze and still stay upright.’

‘James certainly had his hands full.’

‘In more ways than one.’

The pair began to giggle as they remembered James, engulfed by the mayor, chain of office still in place, rocking and a reelin’ across the drive, as he led her to a taxi and carefully folded her in.

‘She’ll be working again tomorrow.’

‘Another day, another function,’ Hattie said. ‘She’s very popular with the locals and never misses an event. Ted’s profits would plummet without her.’

Jo dabbed at her brow with a tissue. She slid out of bed and walked over to the open window. Carefully avoiding the dogs, she looked out into the night where the lake glinted in the moonlight. ‘I think I’ll forgive Audrey for the aquatic show,’ Jo said. ‘She put an awful lot of effort into creating that performance.’

‘Everyone loved it; you should think about wild water swimming classes and making use of the lake.’

‘I wouldn’t go that far.’

‘I also think you should give Finbar a pay rise; he was the star of the show today.’

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