Page 74 of Boomerville at Ballymegille

Silhouetted by the night, the empty fairground rides and stalls appeared as a monochrome photograph as Malcolm stole into the garden. Aware that the property would have security cameras dotted about and the front door was certain to bolted and locked, he kept close to the shadows of the lake. He edged his way to the rear of the building, heading to the room that opened onto the lawn. Earlier in the day, he’d noticed that the French windows would be the easiest point of access. He had a metal file in his bag and a set of master keys that had been useful on many occasions.

Once he’d gained access, he’d soon find Melissa for the stupid woman had written in her letter to Patrick that she was staying in the Peacock Room.

There was an open space between the lake and the stage and keen to take cover, Malcolm sprinted across the lawn. But visibility was poor and he didn’t see the coconut that had rolled onto the damp grass. As the arch of his foot landed on the hard round surface Malcolm was unable to stop his ankle twisting beneath him and he fell, with a thud, to the ground.

The pain was excruciating and unable to control himself, he cried out, gripping his foot and biting down hard on his lip, as he writhed in agony.

* * *

At the edgeof the lake, Bill was waist deep in water. He looked straight ahead as his mother’s voice urged him to go deeper. He felt his legs tire and weeds tangle around his feet, dragging him further into the muddy depths. Bill was calm as he listened, seduced by the sudden softness of her words.

That’s the way, my darling son, just a little bit more, let the water take you, soon you will see the glory and be with me, safe and happy, on the other side.

But suddenly, a shriek pierced through the darkness. The howl was so shrill, it woke Bill from his stupor and he turned. Was it an animal in pain?

Perhaps one of dogs had got out.

Fearing that it might be Teddy, Bill could only think of Melissa and how devastated she would be if anything were to happen to the puppy.

Stop, stop! You stupid boy, turn back!

Bill ignored the haunted voice. Finding strength that was driven by fear for Melissa, he grabbed at the reeds and, with gargantuan effort, pulled himself out of the water and up the side of the bank. He crawled to his feet, trousers and trainers weighed down with water, senses alert, listening for movement and signs of life.

Suddenly, a shape, only yards away, rolled from side to side. In the dark, Bill couldn’t make it out. It was too big for Teddy but perhaps it was Bunty? He forced himself forward but as he got closer, Bill realised that the shape had arms and legs. His heart was pounding and he hesitated. This wasn’t looking good; why on earth would anyone, clad in black clothing, be out here in the middle of the night.

Bill was about slink off but as he started to turn, the figure turned too and rose unsteadily to its feet. The hood covering the stranger’s face fell away and as their eyes met, Bill felt his heart pound and his body begin to shake.

‘You,’ Bill whispered.

‘Well, if it isn’t the besotted little prick who twisted my arm.’

‘W…what are you doing here?’

‘I’d have thought that was obvious.’ Malcolm felt for the bag still strapped across his body, and slid a hand into the soft leather folds.

At that moment, the moon reappeared from behind dark clouds and Bill’s hand flew to his mouth as a beam of light caught the glint of steel in Malcolm’s hand.

‘Still panting after my wife?’ Malcolm said and he moved forward. ‘Like a sweaty stinking dog.’

Bill couldn’t stop the uncontrollable whimper that came from his throat. He felt the veins on his forehead pulse beneath the skin.

‘You’ll never have a woman like that, you sad, sick little man.’

Bill was gulping down breaths in an effort to focus. But Malcolm had moved closer and in a flash, raised his arm to pounce, but then stumbled. The steel file slipped from his hand and, falling forward, he collapsed onto Bill and they crashed to the ground.

Bill fought hard, knowing that his life depended on it.

But to his surprise, he realised that after the initial collision, Malcolm wasn’t putting up much of a fight, in fact, he’d staggered to his feet and now was motionless.

Lights had come on in the manor and illuminated the lawn. In the distance, a dog barked. Someone had heard them!

‘You stupid arsehole!’ Malcolm hissed; he groped about until he found his file and slid it into his bag. Then, raising his arm again, he aimed a punch at Bill’s head. It landed full on and sent Bill flying backwards.

The last thing that Bill remembered was a sickening crack as his head hit the hard surface of the lawn. It was followed by a sharp pain in his neck and he felt something warm ooze along his collar bone.

As his eyes began to close, his mother’s voice whispered,

Come on, son, just let yourself go, here I am, waiting. Just waiting for you…

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