Page 9 of Boomerville at Ballymegille

Malcolm would look for her and she wondered where he would begin. She had no friends. Any that she’d had before their marriage had slid into the shadows soon after.

She’d removed her email account and texts from her mobile phone and any information that she thought might trace her steps, then placed the phone in her bedside drawer, where Malcolm would find it. God willing, she’d bought some time and, with luck, safely tucked away at Boomerville, she would be able to think clearly and work out what to do next.

But now, as she sat in the candle-lit room and glanced around at her fellow diners, Melissa’s heart began to thump and she felt her hands shake. Malcolm would be raging and his presence seemed to penetrate the walls, suffocating the life in the room. She felt light-headed and, reaching for her drink, took a deep slug to calm her nerves.

As the wine hit her empty stomach, she began to close her eyes but flinched when a hand touched her arm. Hattie, the manager, stood by Melissa’s side.

‘Are you alright? You look a little shaky.’

‘I’m f-f-fine,’ Melissa stuttered. ‘Just tired from my journey and I’ve not eaten all day.’

‘Soon have that sorted.’ Hattie held a plate of canapés. ‘Try one of these while I go and grab someone interesting to sit next to you.’

Melissa watched Hattie move away, the confident figure of a woman in her prime. Well-groomed and beautifully dressed with a flattering hair style, Hattie exuded confidence. Melissa felt envious and wished that she could change places.

She glanced at the canapés and popped one into her mouth.

The warm pastry crumbled and tangy cheese, with a slither of smoked ham, melted onto her tongue. Melissa couldn’t remember the last time that she’d eaten, such was her anxiety, and now the combination of wine and pastry felt like lead in her mouth. Reaching for a napkin, it was all she could do not to gag.

* * *

Bill stoodin the doorway of the restaurant and stared at the unfamiliar faces. Everyone seemed to be talking at once, confident as they took their places and settled themselves in. He wondered what to do and pulled at the lapels of his suit and nervously straightened his tie for the umpteenth time. Having avoided the welcoming party, Bill was uncomfortable and wished that he’d stayed in his room and ordered dinner from room service.

Bill had never been a social animal. Years of pandering to his mother had meant friendships were out of the question and when he’d had a job, he’d gone straight home after a working day, his mother’s demands too dominating to be questioned. The only respite was a weekly quiz at his local pub, a place where he felt safe amongst fellow quizzers who saw winning as their mission in life.

But this was no quiz and his mother was dead.

‘Here you are,’ a voice called out and Bill saw a woman bounce across the room. He looked over his shoulder, unsure of her target, but soon realised that she was heading his way.

‘Hattie Mulberry at your service.’ The woman reached out a hand. ‘I’m the manager,’ she said and taking Bill’s hand, shook it firmly. ‘We missed you at the welcoming party.’

‘Sorry about that.’ Bill grimaced as his fingers crunched in Hattie’s palm. ‘I was tired after the journey.’

‘Well, we’re very happy to have your company. Come with me.’

Hattie guided Bill through the room and came to a stop at a long table. Several faces looked up as Hattie made the introductions. ‘This is Melissa,’ Hattie said, ‘you’ll be sitting next to her tonight.’ She pulled out a chair and Bill sat down. ‘Melissa is a new starter too. I’m sure you’ll have lots to talk about.’ She gave Bill a pat on the back and moved away.

Bill stared at the woman sitting next to him. Melissa didn’t look a day over forty. The soft blonde locks that curled on her shoulders were probably tinted, he thought, and her porcelain skin no doubt fed with the most expensive creams. She had crumbs on her mouth and dabbed at them with a linen napkin, leaving traces of pink lipstick. His mother would have been horrified to see her son sitting next to such a “fancy piece”, and he almost heard her whispering from her grave.

Don’t go getting any ideas! You’re not cut out for women, wine and dining.

‘Are you alright?’ the woman asked. She pushed a plate forward and offered Bill a canapé. ‘You must be hungry if you’ve just arrived. These are quite tasty.’

Bill stared in fascination as she picked up her glass, her manicured nails, painted pearly pink, a contrast to the clear amber liquid.

‘Would you like some?’ She reached for the half-empty bottle and began to pour.

‘I think I’ll stick with water.’ Bill grabbed a pitcher and winced as iced water slopped and a damp stain pooled on the cloth. He felt his mother’s imaginary hand swipe at his head and heard her whisper,Clumsy boy!

‘Are you here for long?’ Bill asked.

‘I’m not sure, perhaps a week or two; what about you?’

‘I’ve booked for a week but I provisionally reserved another, in case I happen to like any of the courses.’

Bill stared at Melissa. She’d lost interest in their conversation and glanced anxiously around the room. Gripping her glass in one hand, her fingers drummed on the table with the other and he wondered if she was a little tipsy. Trust him to get landed with a drunk as soon as he’d arrived. There were empty seats at his end of the table and he wondered who the hell the manager would put there. He didn’t have long to find out as Hattie appeared again and broke the awkward silence.

‘Shove up a bit, Bill,’ Hattie called out. ‘I’ve got a bunch of Boomerville Babes to join you for dinner.’ She grinned as she pulled out chairs and settled a group of rosy-faced women around the table. ‘They’ve been practicing dance routines in the pool all afternoon and have worked up a hearty appetite.’

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