Page 81 of Boomerville at Ballymegille

‘They’ll be famous in no time.’

‘Audrey’s wondering how she can get them on Britain’s Got Talent.’

‘I’m sure she’ll find a way.’ Harry picked up two mugs of steaming hot tea and joined Alf at the table.

‘Any word on Bill?’ Alf asked.

‘Still unconscious; he won’t be travelling back with us, that’s for sure.’ Harry spooned sugar into his mug. ‘Hattie is with him now and I’m thinking I might have a trip over there in a bit. I’m waiting to hear if Finbar is free to take me.’

‘You’ve got doubts; are things not as straight forward as the Garda think?’

‘It just seems a bit weird to me.’ Harry sipped his tea. ‘Bill was very down yesterday; he was upset about shouting at the lass in the pub.’

‘The voices in his head?’

‘Yes, they must have been worse.’

‘He seemed to cheer up.’ Alf frowned. ‘He was smiling and drinking a beer with us.’

‘I think that was a front; I think he’s depressed.’

‘So, what exactly are you saying?’

‘It wouldn’t surprise me if the voices led him into the lake last night.’

‘Eh?’ Alf raised his eyebrows.

‘Why was he wet from the waist down?’

‘Perhaps he fell in?’

‘Possibly, that’s an option but I favour the first.’

The door to the garden was ajar and Alf looked up as Ness scratched at the paintwork then nudged her way in. She trotted across the tiled floor and placed her head on Alf’s knee.

‘This one wants a walk,’ Alf said. ‘I’ll go and find t’others. I’m sure Bunty and Teddy could do with a stretch.’

‘I’ll catch up with you later.’ Harry stood too and, taking the empty mugs to the sink, rinsed them under the tap. He watched Alf wander through the garden and out of the gate, Ness bounding ahead, but Bill’s accident was still playing on his mind. He’d give Finbar another ring and see if he could get over to the hospital.

If Bill had woken up, he might be able to have a word with him.

Harry wiped his fingers on his T-shirt and decided that he’d better get changed. Hattie would kill him if he turned up in these scruffy clothes.

Taking the stairs two at a time, Harry reached the bedroom he was sharing with Alf, Bill and Willie. He’d better tidy Bill’s stuff up too, he thought as he looked at the untidy mess around Bill’s bed and, reaching for Bill’s suitcase, set to.

* * *

Malcolm hobbled into Cork airport.He’d dropped the hire car off and taken a courtesy bus to the departure area and now, as he stood in a queue, waiting to check in for the early evening flight to Malaga, his ankle throbbed.

It was agony and he was beginning to panic.

If he couldn’t walk onto the flight he might be stopped and refused a seat. The morphine was helping the pain but he’d need more tablets as soon as the flight landed and he got back to the villa. If only this damn queue would move and he could sit down. It seemed to be families who were travelling and Malcolm silently cursed; all he needed was a three hour flight amongst screaming kids. He leaned to one side to see if check-in was fully operational and sighed; only one member of staff on the desk.

Malcolm shuffled his case forward. At last, he could check-in.

The assistant took Malcolm’s passport. Glancing at it, he asked Malcolm to lift his case onto the baggage conveyor belt then wrapped an identification tag around the handle.

‘Travelling alone today, sir?’