Page 94 of Boomerville at Ballymegille

And as for Melissa?

Malcolm felt a vein pulse in his neck. He clenched his knuckles and heard them crack. If only it was Melissa’s neck between his fingers! He’d squeeze the air out of her body and enjoy the sight of the stupid bitch pleading for her life. His heart pounded as he thought about his wife and he knew that he wouldn’t let her get away. Melissa would never have the freedom she craved and when things had settled down, he’d ensure that his Irish contacts dealt with her. Whatever price he had to pay would be worth it and he smiled as he thought of the deceiving cow, her rotting body buried deep in a turf bog.

Malcolm vowed that he would have his revenge, no matter how long it took.

Turning back from the window, he checked the time again. A condition of his bail was to report to the police station each day at two o’clock in the afternoon. If he left now, a train would have him in Dublin in less than three hours. He could pick up a car and be on a late ferry to Holyhead, enabling him to drive through the night to Manchester airport and get the first flight out to Spain. He’d be long gone before he’d even been missed.

Malcolm gathered his things. His underworld contacts had also arranged more fake identification and with access to the best forgers in Ireland, it had been arranged in a matter of hours.

Now all he had to do was make that ferry in time.

36

After days of hot sunshine, the weather in Ballymegille was uncertain. The sun briefly put in an appearance but now, as the afternoon faded, the sky had darkened and steel-black clouds drifted ominously overhead.

‘It looks like we’re in for a downpour,’ Hattie said, as she stood by the window in the study.

‘It’ll do the garden good,’ Jo replied. ‘The lawn’s very tired after the weekend.’

‘Aye, but it will soon spring back with a decent drop of rain.’

Jo sat at her desk and studied the paperwork spread out before her. Bunty lay by her feet, eyes closed and sound asleep. Every now and again, Jo glanced at the screen on her computer and made notes.

‘Have you paid the mortgage off after the weekend’s takings?’ Hattie asked.

‘Hardly, but we’ve broken even, thank goodness, and bookings are steadily coming in.’

‘The place will fill up now, mark my words.’

‘I’ll keep my fingers crossed that you’re right; we re-open at the weekend and with a substantial payroll and suppliers bills, the manor needs to be running on a high occupancy.’ Jo put down her pen and noted that Hattie was dressed in paint-splattered overalls, a knotted scarf covering her hair. ‘Are you going out?’

‘Eh?’ Hattie glanced down at her outfit, ‘like this?’

‘It’s very attractive,’ Jo teased. ‘The boiler suit fits you snugly, you’ll be quite a hit in Kindale.’

‘Don’t be so daft; I found it in the cottage and thought I’d make a start on the painting.’ Hattie ran her hand over the coarse fabric. Buttons were missing at chest level and her cleavage spilled out.

‘Why not wait until tomorrow? We’ve never stopped for days.’ Jo yawned and sat back. ‘Willie’s Wheels should be boarding the ferry soon. Harry said he’d call me once they were underway.’

‘Well, thereissomething that I need to do.’ Hattie moved away from the window and shifted from one foot to the other. She clutched a large brown envelope in her hand.

‘Is something wrong?’ Jo asked. ‘You look anxious.’

‘I need to talk about Bill and what arrangements we’re going to make for his funeral.’

‘Yes, we must; is it a conversation that you want to have now?’

‘I’d like to get on with things,’ Hattie said, ‘and I need James and Melissa in here too.’

‘Very well, I’ll call them.’ Jo picked up her phone and began to tap numbers.

As she spoke, there was a knock on the door.

Hattie smiled when she saw Finbar. ‘Come in,’ she said, ‘grab a seat and make yourself comfortable.’

‘I don’t want to disturb you.’ Finbar nodded when he saw Jo. ‘I just wanted to know if you have a timetable for me, for singing classes next week; I need to work the taxi business around it.’

‘Yes, of course, but I’m about to talk about Bill and you may as well stay to hear what I’ve got to say.’

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