Page 98 of Boomerville at Ballymegille

Unable to rest, Harry decided to join Alf at the front of the coach. He pulled himself up and gripped the seat backs to move forward. Lucinda was on the seat in front and Harry saw that she was sound asleep, her cigarette holder clutched between her teeth. With limbs sprawled in an ungainly fashion, her eyelids flickered and as her chest rose and she breathed out, a loud snore trembled through her body. Hearing the noise, Audrey turned and gave Harry a nod then looked around and checked the Babes. Many were also asleep as they sat or lay on the hard upholstery.

‘Have we got far to go?’ Harry asked and took a seat next to Alf.

‘Not long, we’ll soon be in Dublin, the ferry signs are starting,’ Alf flicked his wrist and looked at his watch. ‘Plenty of time to board, old Willie has done us proud.’

‘The weather’s grim,’ Harry said as rain hammered on the roof of the coach.

‘Aye, it’ll be a bit choppy, that’s for sure.’

‘Don’t worry lads,’ Willie said, ‘the Stena Voyager is a fine boat and will sail the sea with ease.’

Willie manoeuvred the coach towards the terminal and after following the required checks, his passengers were soon aboard. Settling Ness on a blanket, with one of Alf’s old sweaters, they left her on the coach and walked along the car deck to wander around the boat.

‘Shall we find seats in the bar?’ Audrey asked. ‘We can all brace together if the crossing is rough.’

Everyone agreed that her suggestion was sensible and they settled to order drinks and snacks. As the ferry sounded its horn and left the port of Dublin, the journey got underway and they sailed into open sea, the boat bumping through the waves as a strong wind blew and rain lashed down.

‘Brandy will settle any poorly tummies,’ Audrey said and knocked back a double. The Babes followed suit as Lucinda sipped a red wine and Alf supped a pint. Harry joined Willie and ordered a mug of strong coffee; he had no need of spirits to get him through the journey and wanted to stay alert.

Audrey, to pass the time, read clues from a crossword and as everyone chipped in with their answers, Harry thought of Bill. Quizzes were one of the few things he’d seemed to enjoy. He remembered Bill’s last few days in Ireland. If he’d only woken up when Bill went for a walk during the night, he might have seen what had happened and been there to help. He sighed as he looked around the crowded bar, wondering what all these folks were travelling on to. Had Bill lived, and been with them now, he might have taken the Boomerville philosophy to heart and travelled on to enjoy a better life too.

As Harry reminisced and looked at the many faces, he noticed a man on his own, making his way across the room to the bar. He wore a baseball cap that covered his forehead and kept his head low. The man skirted the throng but as he moved forward, Harry suddenly felt goose bumps shiver across his arms and his pulse began to race.

The man was limping!

‘You bastard,’ Harry whispered and rose slowly to his feet.

Alf looked up and following Harry’s gaze, placed his half-empty pint on the table. ‘Is it him?’ he asked.

‘I’m almost certain,’ Harry replied, ‘but be very careful, Malcolm is dangerous.’ He felt his fingers clench into fists.

‘Wait till he’s got a drink and turns back, we can get a better look at his face,’ Alf said.

And as if by telepathy, one by one, the Cumbrian party slowly rose to their feet.

* * *

Malcolm was hot and bothered.His ankle was throbbing and pain shot through his leg as he hobbled through the crowded bar. He’d only just made the connection, after his train from Cork to Dublin had been delayed and he’d had to run to find a taxi to make the ferry on time. If only he had a couple of morphine tablets to hand to ease his agony; the painkillers he’d picked up at the station were hardly making any difference. The bag that he carried felt heavy and cumbersome, even though he’d left most of his clothes in his hotel room.

But a couple of large brandies would help.

Malcolm kept his head low as he waited to be served and when he reached the counter he knocked back the drink that the barman poured and asked for the same again. Handing over cash, Malcolm paid for his drinks and gripping his bag, turned to find somewhere quiet to sit.

He reached the edge of the room. A chair was vacant by a small table, littered with empty glasses and debris. As Malcolm was about to sit down and clear a space for his glass, he heard a voice call out his name.

Malcolm froze. Moving slowly, he turned.

He was almost surrounded, as Alf and Willie stood alongside Lucinda, Audrey and the Babes. Harry, who’d spoken, stepped forward.

Malcolm felt his breath quickening and darted his gaze to a door a few feet away. As Harry suddenly lunged towards him, Malcolm threw his drink and the glass hit Harry on the forehead, the brandy blinding as it splashed into his eyes. Seizing the opportunity, Malcolm grabbed his bag and sped to the door. Pulling it open, he ran through.

Outside, the deck was soaked.

Rain fell in sheets, making visibility almost impossible as darkness closed in. Malcolm hobbled ahead, moving swiftly despite the pain, determined to find somewhere to hide.

But the door to the bar had opened again and Harry, wiping his eyes with his sleeve, appeared, surrounded by the Cumbrian party. Lucinda was the first to go forward. She’d removed her shoes and flung them in her bag. Holding her cigarette holder high, she shouted for the others to follow.

They clung on to each other and felt for the railing as they crept along the deck.

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