The Best Boomerville Hotel
Chapter One
Kate Simmons stared out of the window of her beautifully appointed home and remembered the words that her mother often said when Kate was growing up.
‘Somewhere in the universe, there is someone who will love us, understand us and kiss and make it all better.’ She repeated the words as she gazed across a terrace that led down to a neatly trimmed lawn, where a family of ducks waddled across the grass.
As she watched them approach the inky water, Kate wished that she had a family too, with a loving man by her side.
Her mother’s words were all very well, but to date no one in the universe had come forward to love, understand nor kiss Kate and make it all better.
She visualised a partner, striding across the lawn, his arms outstretched and smile warm as he held up a hand to wave.
If only she had someone to share her life, to live with her and be the companion that she yearned for.
She turned from the window and ran her fingers along a shelf of books. The titles leapt from well-read pages, taunting Kate, for she’d always imagined penning a novel but despite having plenty of time on her hands, writing was another unfulfilled dream.
Kate had been ten when she knew that she wanted to live in a schoolhouse full of books; not that she wanted to be a teacher, teaching was the furthest thing from her mind.
She loved reading and wanted to be a writer and live in a world where her characters chatted happily and stories were real.
But Kate grew up, schoolrooms became a memory and, after her mother’s death, life went in quite a different direction.
She peered in a mirror and tugged at curls of long dark hair. At fifty, Kate was pleased with her appearance and, despite all the stress of recent years, knew that she looked younger. Her only regret was that she wished it was a lover’s hand caressing her silky locks.
The hollow click of her heels echoed as she turned to cross the tiled hall floor. In the kitchen, a newspaper lay on the table and a headline caught her eye.
BOOMERS ARE UNLIKELY TO FIND LASTING LOVE!
The journalist wrote with cynicism about the UK’s maturing population having the highest divorce rate and their endeavour to seek a happy-ever-after.
Kate wondered where the writer carried out the research, for it was hardly rocket science to work out that as people all lived longer, the number of divorces would increase.
She pushed the paper to one side and thought about the article. She still clung to the hope that the maturing single population that she was now a part of had a chance to find true love.
Women of a certain age had it tough these days.
Hot on their heels ran the career-driven thirty-somethings, a new breed of women who’d popped up in the race to find a partner and seemed set on the older male.
Any eligible male on Kate’s radar was spoilt for choice and younger women were stacked like a pack of cards in their quest for Mr Right.
This completely buggered up the limited opportunities for any single woman teetering into her fifties and beyond.
In Kate’s experience, it was nigh on impossible to form a relationship with anyone of her own age and the men attracted to Kate were doddering around on a walking frame or looking for a ride to their next doctor’s appointment.
The men she met wanted someone to look after them, to ease their journey into later life.
Ideally attractive, she would have a healthy bank balance, be selfless and stimulating in the bedroom and a wizard behind the stove.
Especially when it came to being creative with low cholesterol recipes and diabetic meals.
Kate had been a carer to her dad and now she wanted someone to love and care for her.
Similar in age, he would be spontaneous and sexy, fun and attractive and willing to spend the rest of his life worshipping at the altar that was Kate Simmons.
Not spending all his effort on women like this know-it-all journalist, who must be decades younger.
But, as Kate got older, there seemed little chance of finding The One.
Outside Kate saw the ducks launch themselves into the pond and paddle around, creating ripples on the silver-blue water. Kate watched the happy family and realised that she’d never felt so alone. She was crying out for a partner to share her home and live between the secure and welcoming walls.
From the moment she’d seen the old schoolhouse in her home county of Wiltshire, she’d known that she had to have it.
Slate-grey stone covered a kitchen floor worn smooth by centuries of little feet, tapping idly as they sat at wooden desks.
Kate imagined their teacher standing in the very same spot while pupils studied lessons chalked on a board.
Logs roared in a wood-burning stove where, in days gone by, the children would have huddled around an open fire.
As she boiled water for coffee, Kate wondered for the umpteenth time what she should do with the rest of her life.
The fabulous fifties that everyone raved about seemed lonely and unwelcome and she yearned for some stimulating company to stop her from disappearing into the oblivion of middle age.
Kate still felt young, even if the years were catching up.
She was fit and healthy despite reoccurring pain in her fingers, which her doctor had diagnosed as the start of arthritis.
She prayed that some day soon The One would come knocking on her door.
But, in truth, Kate knew that the only knock would be the postman with a catalogue for comfy shoes and hearing aids.
If she wanted to run down the road to happiness, she had to put herself on the starting line.
Before it was too late.
Kate sipped her coffee and the buzz of caffeine reminded her that she was still very much alive. She reached for the paper. What she needed was a break; a change of scene to stimulate her into action.
Spreading the newspaper over the table, Kate scanned the holiday section where a variety of adverts offered cruises for the single traveller or writing holidays with a group of women ensconced on a Greek island.
Kate couldn’t imagine anything worse. She didn’t fancy a coach trip, or a walking holiday in the Alps and the thought of a hotel catering for solos filled her with dread.
She fancied somewhere that could offer new experiences, a holiday with mental stimulation and a chance to learn with like-minded people.
Hopefully, with a few eligible males thrown in too.
Kate sighed. Such a holiday didn’t exist.
She finished her coffee and decided to challenge herself with the crossword. Picking up a pen, Kate was about to put her mind to the test when, alongside the puzzle, an advert caught her eye.
Boomers! Give us your body and we’ll bring back your brain.
AT BOOMERVILLE
A luxury retreat for guests of a certain age
We run courses to enrich the retirement years:
Clairvoyance in Midlife, Sharing with the Shaman,
Write a Best-Seller, Curry in a Hurry & many more.
Come and learn with us at our lovely country house:
Boomerville, Kirkton Sowerby, Westmarland.
For further information contact: info@
A country house in the Lake District, one of the most beautiful areas of North West England, had recently opened for guests ‘of a certain age’ who wished to pursue new interests in the comfort of a luxury hotel. Kate felt a tingle of excitement as she picked up her iPad and found the website.
Boomerville was located on the edge of the village of Kirkton Sowerby and set amongst the fells, close to the Lake District with the county town of Marland just a few miles away.
There were twenty bedrooms, accommodating up to forty guests, and a cookery school with state-of-the-art equipment was located alongside a pottery studio and creative writing classroom.
In the meadow at the end of the garden, an old gypsy caravan stood freshly painted and a mysterious tepee could be seen.
The restaurant boasted a menu designed by a Michelin-starred chef.
Hotel Boomerville seemed perfect.
Kate thought of her diary and the empty days ahead. What had she got to lose? There were only so many weeds to dig up in the garden and the furniture wouldn’t crumble if it wasn’t polished for a week or two. She found the online booking form and began to fill it out.
Ten minutes later, it was complete.
Two or three weeks away might help her heal, for sitting around here only made the loss of her beloved dad more unbearable. If her booking was accepted, she could soon be heading north and there was only one way to find out.
Kate pressed the send key.
She thought about clothes for autumn in the Lake District and, feeling energised by the turn of events, decided to head upstairs and check her wardrobe. There was a spring in Kate’s step as she hurried through the house.
Perhaps there was hope after all?
* * *
Hattie Contaldo picked up the newspaper to check her weekly advert. She turned the pages until she reached the holiday section where, alongside the crossword, an advert announced:
Boomers! Give us your body and we’ll bring back your brain.
She read the wording and smiled.
It was perfect. Her target audience always went straight for the crossword and the advert hooked them in. Hattie’s marketing campaign, in a series of local newspapers throughout the country, had worked and bookings were pouring in.