Page 100 of Boomerville at Ballymegille

‘Very humdrum, I slept throughout,’ Lucinda added.

Willie and Alf looked at each other and nodded.

‘As far as this group is concerned,’ Audrey said, ‘I’m sure we’d all like to get on with the journey and be on our way.’

Willie started the engine and as Harry sat down, he heard Audrey call out.

‘I speak on behalf of everyone on this coach, when I say that what happened on the ferry crossing, stays on the ferry crossing, and that’s our final word.’

* * *

Hattie stoodin reception with a phone in her hand and held it close to her ear. Harry had called and explained that the party from Cumbria has just arrived back. As the sun was rising over the Lake District fells, Willie’s Wheels pulled onto the driveway at Hotel Boomerville and the weary passengers, having retrieved their luggage, had departed for their homes.

Hattie didn’t say a word as Harry told her about the details of their journey. She nodded to herself as he told her about their encounter with Malcolm and what had happened.

‘Did anyone else see anything?’ Hattie asked.

‘I don’t think so, I checked for CCTV but there didn’t seem to be any in that area and it was pitch dark and stormy.’

‘His bag will be found, there will be something in there to hopefully identify him; it will look like a suicide, given his circumstances.’

‘I doubt it, if he was travelling on false paperwork again.’

‘Well, don’t beat yourself up, Malcolm slipped and fell overboard; it’s as simple as that.’ Hattie spoke quietly. ‘None of you pushed him.’

‘That’s true.’

‘Get back to your life and carry on as normal,’ Hattie said. ‘Not many folk will be in a hurry to solve the mystery of Malcolm Mercer’s disappearance.’

‘His underworld contacts won’t be too pleased.’

‘That’s not your problem.’

‘You’re right,’ Harry said, ‘but can you find a way of easing Melissa’s mind without telling her what happened?’

‘Leave it with me.’

Hattie hung up. She wanted to punch the air and dance a jig.

News of Malcom’s demise was shocking, but it was also a huge relief and this meant that Melissa could, at last, get on with her life. She’d feel comfortable travelling to see Bill’s solicitor in Creston, to sort out her inheritance, and wouldn’t fear for her safety twenty-four hours a day.

Hattie tugged on the collar of her overalls and scrunched her hair into a scarf. She was going to spend the day making a start on painting the rooms in the cottage and hoped that Melissa would join her. Whatever she decided to do with the money that Bill had left her, Melissa still needed a roof over her head, for the time being at least.

The rain had stopped and the sun was shining. Hattie knew that she needed to tell Jo that Malcolm was no longer a problem and made a call to her friend.

Jo listened carefully. ‘It’s not rocket science to work things out,’ she said, ‘but my lips are sealed and we won’t speak of it again.’

Jo had taken Bunty for a walk by the estuary and wouldn’t be back for a while. It gave Hattie a chance to get started on the cottage; she knew that Jo would never agree with the colour scheme Hattie had planned and it was best that her friend was out of the way.

Hattie opened the front door and looked out.

A car was coming up the driveway and she recognised Finbar’s taxi. She wondered what he wanted, for the manor wasn’t opening again until the weekend. But Hattie was pleased that he was here; she hadn’t spoken to him about his mother’s death and having grown fond of Finbar, wanted to commiserate.

The vehicle pulled up and Finbar climbed out.

He opened the door to assist the passenger and curious, Hattie stared as two feet appeared. Laced-up brown leather brogues and a pair of wheat-coloured cords came into view, and when Hattie recognised the tweed jacket and checked shirt, she blew out a breath and tutted.

‘Bleedin’ hell,’ she said, with her hands on her hips, feet planted firmly on the drive, ‘if it isn’t “Yours Truly” himself.’