Page 8 of Boomerville at Ballymegille

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Jo Docherty smoothed the cover on the bed and tweaked at the matching curtains before straightening the cushions that were neatly placed on the window seat overlooking the garden at Boomerville. The house was large and spacious and in the past, Hattie had often stayed there.

Satisfied that the room was ready for Hattie whenever she needed to sleep over, Jo skipped down the stairs then went through a panelled door in her living room that led into the hotel. She walked through the restaurant and bar and came to reception, where she took a seat at the desk and flicked a computer into life. Due to a couple of unexpected cancellations, there were guests arriving that day and as she studied the booking forms to see who would be joining the courses, Jo hoped that the new arrivals would be in time for the welcoming cocktail party that was held each Saturday night.

Jo smiled. Boomerville was booming.

As soon as rooms became vacant they were filled with guests who wanted to experience a holiday at Jo’s retreat for mid-lifers. Boomerville was now entering its third year under the new regime, where courses were offered to invigorate and re-awaken minds that may have gone into hibernation. Previous guests, having benefitted from their stay, had left to write novels, paint a masterpiece or enjoy better health after participating in the many fitness programmes available. There were a wide choice of classes and Jo was delighted with the way her business had developed. She’d wanted to do something to help maturing adults, as she herself advanced in years and now, as she moved further into her fifties, felt that her vision was working. Jo had rolled the concept out to a smaller property in Bath too, which was run by her dear friend Bob Puddicombe, together with his partner, Anthony, and Jo knew that her little west country business was in safe hands.

But now, she felt that it was time to expand.

Jo was itching to begin another venture and spread the Boomerville message further afield and for weeks had searched through agent’s listings for suitable properties until one had caught her eye.

Hattie’s return had come at the right time. Jo was planning a lengthy trip and as she tidied the desk, she wondered if her friend would run things in Cumbria while she was away. Work might help Hattie overcome her loss.

A car skidded across the gravel outside and curious to see who’d arrived, Jo went into the hallway, where she pulled the blind to one side and stared out of the window.

A shiny new Mini Clubman, packed full of cases and bags, had careered to a halt by the side entrance. To her delight, Jo saw Hattie fling open the driver’s door and place two kitten-heels solidly on the ground. Abandoning the car, she crunched purposefully across the drive.

‘Never mind peeping!’ Hattie called out. ‘Find someone to give me a hand.’

Jo opened the door and, stepping out, flung her arms around Hattie. ‘You’re early,’ she said, as she steered Hattie into the hotel. ‘I wasn’t expecting you so soon.’

‘It looks like I’ll be moving in for a bit.’ Hattie unbuttoned her jacket and let it slide off her shoulders. ‘My house is out of action for the foreseeable and I’ll be needing a bed.’

‘What’s happened? I thought your tenants had moved out?’

‘Don’t ask.’ Hattie shook her head. ‘I’ll need a stiff drink before I tell you what I found in Marland. Alf will have his work cut out over the next few weeks.’ Hattie looked around. ‘Where’s Bunty?’ she asked.

Jo’s faithful Labrador was normally within inches of her mistresses’ heels.

‘She’s flat out on her bed in the house. I took her for a long walk earlier.’

‘And Pete?’ Hattie asked, curious to know if the man in Jo’s life was flat out too.

‘He’s probably on his precious tractor somewhere, possibly ploughing the fields surrounding his house.’ Jo was vague. ‘But let’s get you unpacked and settled.’

Jo went to find a porter to help unload Hattie’s car. Her slim hips swayed under a perfectly tailored dress and her hair, still a glorious auburn, bounced on shapely shoulders.

As soon as she’d gone, Hattie looked around.

Nothing seemed to have changed in the time that she’d been away. Boomerville was as inviting as ever, from the honey-coloured stone building to the golden heads of daffodils, as they swayed in large urns circling the house where herbaceous plants packed the borders beneath tall stone walls. In the hallway, Hattie smiled as she saw fires blazing in cast iron grates in both the Red Room and Green Room; elegant areas where guests could relax and unwind.

She climbed the sweeping staircase to the galleried landing and walked down the corridor. Long case windows overlooked three acres of neatly kept gardens and as Hattie looked out she could see that there’d been changes.

The old Victorian greenhouse had gone and a new building stood in its place. Tastefully mirroring the previous structure with ornate ironwork supporting huge glass panes, Hattie stared at an indoor swimming pool. She could see that an aquarobics class was in full flow.

Whatever next? Hattie thought as she trooped down the stairs, where she found Jo, arms full of cases and a porter teetering behind.

‘Soon have you settled,’ Jo said, ‘and you’re here in time for the welcoming party.’ She smiled as they made their way through to the house. ‘We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.’

* * *

Melissa was nervous.The excitement that she’d felt as she’d left Pendelton House had begun to wear off. The housekeeper had the day off and it had been easy to pack and put her cases in her car and the security guard had waved as she’d driven out of the gates. But after speeding along the motorway to Cumbria and arriving at Hotel Boomerville, the thrill of being welcomed by the friendly owner and shown to a delightful bedroom, overlooking the garden at the front of the hotel, had faded.

Now, she sat at a dining table in the Rose Room restaurant and thought about Malcolm. She wondered if he’d arrived back from his trip.

Melissa hadn’t left a note and in her haste to depart had packed as many suitcases as she could fit in her car then, without a backward glance, she’d fled from Pendleton House. She knew that Malcolm would be furious and the rage to follow would know no bounds. His wife wasn’t at his beck and call from the moment his Bentley convertible drove through the electronic gates of their home and he would realise that the welcoming lights she’d left on were simply illuminating an empty household.

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