Chapter Two #2
Kate could hear soft chants and was curious as Hattie explained that this was one of the more popular courses. She let Hattie lead her towards the tepee.
As they approached, a man’s face peered out of an opening in the side. The Shaman wore feathers in a band across his head and his nut-brown skin was weathered. ‘Namaste,’ he said and fixed his intoxicating green eyes on Kate.
Kate felt a shiver, despite the warmth of the autumn afternoon.
‘Been plucking pheasants again?’ Hattie asked with a nod to the Shaman’s headband. Her palms were touching and with the fingers pointed upwards, she bowed slightly in greeting. Turning to Kate, she whispered, ‘He’s very popular,’ then taking her arm again, retraced their steps back to the hotel.
* * *
Kate finished applying her make-up and brushed her hair. She teased the immaculate cut into a flicked-up style, then began to dress. She’d chosen a red crepe cocktail dress for the welcoming party and a pair of matching killer heels.
Satisfied with her appearance, Kate picked up a black leather clutch, closed the bedroom door and, slipping the key into her bag, walked along the gallery to head for the wide staircase that swept down to the hall.
The party was in full swing in the Green Room and a lively buzz greeted Kate.
The room was warm and logs blazed in the hearth.
Pillar candles, interspersed with ivy and roses, lined the mantelpiece and cast a flattering light.
Kate noted the attention to detail. A waiter came forward and offered champagne and Kate wrapped her fingers around the chilled glass.
She sighed with pleasure as tiny bubbles exploded on her tongue.
Studying the mix of people who would be joining her on courses, Kate was dismayed to see that most seemed older.
‘Don’t worry, plenty of young blood comes in from the real world.
’ As if reading Kate’s mind, Hattie appeared.
‘They’re not all old and doddering.’ She spotted Sir Henry across the room and gave him a wave.
‘You’ll probably have to put up with Sir Henry, and if you need a restraining order, just let me know. ’
‘Is he staying here for long?’ Kate asked.
‘He’s booked for a month and I’ve no doubt we’ll need a crane to wrench him out.’ Hattie smiled fondly at the old man. ‘Sir Henry used to stay here when Jo ran the place as a residential hotel. Alongside his brother, Hugo, they were high-spending guests.’
‘You’ve been at the hotel for some time?’
‘I’ve worked here from the very first day Jo opened the doors, nearly three decades ago. I’m part of the fixtures.’ Hattie smiled. ‘But I love this new concept. It’s giving us all a fresh lease of life.’
Hattie began to introduce Kate to fellow guests but when they reached Lucinda, Hattie was called away.
Kate smiled as she acknowledged Lucinda but Lucinda was distracted.
‘She’s dreadfully common,’ Lucinda said as they watched Hattie’s ample figure wander through the room. Draped in a wrap-around jersey dress, Hattie’s cleavage and curves left little to the imagination.
‘I think she’s rather sweet.’ Kate said. ‘She’s very attractive and a credit to women our age.’
Lucinda tutted and rolled her eyes with disdain.
‘How long have you been staying at Boomerville?’ Kate asked.
Lucinda stared at Kate through weary eyes, bruised by blocks of olive-green shadow. ‘They’ve accommodated me for the last two weeks but I may not extend,’ Lucinda said, ‘not unless something riveting happens. Most of these people aren’t my sort.’
Kate wondered who Lucinda’s ‘sort’ was as she took in the happy crowd enjoying their cocktails.
A waiter approached and held out a tray.
‘You took your time,’ Lucinda snapped and took a flute of champagne.
‘What courses are you taking?’ Kate asked.
‘I’m an artist, darling, I engage with passion and moods.
’ Lucinda knocked back her drink and reached for another.
‘I’ve told the owner to let me take classes, for some reason there’s no art course.
’ Her gaze travelled up and down Kate’s body.
‘I want to teach life classes, painting to challenge and stimulate.’ Lucinda reached out and circled a finger.
‘You have interesting breasts. I’d like to see you naked.
’ She tilted her head to one side. ‘Come up to my room sometime.’
Kate was mesmerised.
Lucinda had walked away and now stood beside Sir Henry.
She placed a hand on his shoulder and dipped a thin hip to perch on the arm of his chair.
Without looking up, the old boy latched onto her knee, moving his fingers over the soft velvet of Lucinda’s tunic, until he connected with bare flesh.
Lucinda smiled and leaned in to listen to a joke that he’d told umpteen times.
An attractive woman wearing a stunning silver cocktail dress made her way across the room and appeared at Kate’s side. ‘Welcome to Boomerville,’ she said, ‘or Kirkton House, as it used to be called. I’m Jo Docherty, the owner.’
‘I think I prefer Kirkton House,’ Kate replied and shook Jo’s hand.
‘Me too, but Hattie says I need to keep up with the times and not be stuffy, so Boomerville it is.’ Jo shrugged.
‘Can I get you another drink? I do hope that you’re looking forward to your stay with us.
Some of the tutors are here tonight; I can see James from creative writing and Paul from pottery.
’ Jo looked around the room. ‘I hope you get a chance to meet them.’
The two women began to chat and Kate told Jo about her life. She explained that she’d been studying at university when her mother suddenly died.
‘That must have been terrible. How did you cope?’
‘My dad rallied because he had me to look after and, after our loss, we became very close.’
‘Did her death affect your studies?’
‘No, it seemed to make me work harder, as if I had something to prove, and Dad was so supportive when I told him I wanted to start a business.’
‘I’m sure he’s very proud of you.’
‘Oh, he was, but just when we should have been reaping the rewards and enjoying quality time, he developed dementia and began to fail. He didn’t even know me most of the time. It broke my heart.’
Jo watched Kate’s eyes mist over. ‘What happened?’
‘I sold the business and moved him into my home. I couldn’t bear to put him into residential care and I looked after him. But I was misguided; it was impossibly hard and so soul destroying.’
‘I’m terribly sorry.’
‘It was devastating to watch someone you love and admire become an unhappy and confused soul, trapped in a failing mind.’
‘I’m sure you did the best you could.’
‘I do apologise.’ Kate stopped and looked at Jo. ‘This is a party and I don’t know why I’m talking about myself so much.’ Kate was mortified. Earlier she’d told Hattie about her past and now she was pouring her heart out to Jo.
‘We all have a story to tell and I hope that your days here will help with your healing.’ Jo smiled and touched Kate’s arm. ‘Be kind to yourself; it takes time to overcome such grief.’
‘Thank you.’
‘My husband, John, died suddenly. He had cancer and I hardly had time to say goodbye,’ Jo said. She was thoughtful as she went on, ‘I was so upset that I closed the hotel and it stood like a ghost for nearly a year. I was numb with grief and could barely function.’
‘That’s hard to believe, looking at the place now.’
‘I know, but Hattie and I went on a holiday and, while I was away, things fell into perspective and I knew what I wanted to do. I decided to help people in our age group who find themselves on their own and Boomerville was born.’ Jo smiled.
‘But here I am talking about myself, tell me about your business. What’s your secret to success? ’
‘I ran an internet dating agency, one of the first to go online. It was successful and I was lucky to sell at the right time.’
‘But that’s wonderful. You must have worked very hard?’
‘Not really,’ Kate replied modestly. ‘I think a lot of it was luck.’
‘The harder you work the luckier you get,’ Jo said. ‘But what about you, did you find true love?’
‘On the contrary.’ Kate shook her head. ‘I can’t tell you how many weddings I got invited to from satisfied clients but I was always the bridesmaid and never the bride.’
‘You were probably too involved with the technical stuff.’
‘Oh, I was involved all right, with some serious deadbeats, to be honest. Now I’ve hit fifty the only men interested in me are having hip replacements and trouble with their prostate.’ She glanced at Sir Henry who’d turfed Lucinda off his chair and was doddering past on his way to the bathroom.
‘Nonsense, don’t put yourself down. You’re a stunning-looking woman and an eligible man’s dream.’
‘And the not so eligible. I think I’m emotionally drained after looking after Dad and now I’m probably too old for love.’
‘Don’t let age hold you back, look at me.
I thought my life was over when John died.
But I’ve started a new business and am tentatively stepping into a new relationship.
Most importantly, I can’t wait to try all the courses we’ve arranged here.
I set this place up with someone exactly like you in mind. ’
‘So are you saying it’s all right to be a boomer heading for old age?’
‘Who said anything about old age?’ Hattie suddenly materialised. ‘Age is just a number.’
‘And mine’s ex-directory!’ the three women chorused and laughed.
‘But seriously,’ Kate said, ‘is there any hope of finding The One at our age?’
‘Well, you could begin by getting involved with some new activities and see what happens,’ Jo said. ‘There are lots of courses to choose from.’
‘Lucinda seems disappointed that there isn’t an art course.’ Kate raised her eyebrows.
‘We may introduce one in time, but I wanted to start with courses that offered something different.’
‘An hour or two with the Shaman should soon sort you out,’ Hattie interjected.
‘Our resident Shaman comes highly recommended.’ She smiled as she remembered her experience with the Shaman who ran similar sessions from his home, halfway up a hill on the fells beyond the village.
Hattie had gone to research prior to the opening of Boomerville and hadn’t returned for three days.
Jo turned to Hattie. ‘Has our last guest checked in?’
There was one more arrival that day and Jo had been holding dinner in the hope that the residents could eat together on what was, for some, their first night at Boomerville.
Hattie nodded. ‘He’s settling into room two and getting changed; he’ll be down soon.’
‘Mr Mack has travelled from London. I expect he’ll be exhausted after his long journey but it would be polite to wait for him,’ Jo explained to Kate and indicated to a waiter to top up their drinks.
‘I’ve rearranged the seating plan so that Kate can sit next to him, two fresh starters together.’ Hattie looked pleased.
Kate nodded to the waiter to pour. She felt an urge to keep drinking. Mr Mack was no doubt charging his hearing aid and rubbing Deep Heat into his arthritic knees. God knows what they would find to talk about and he’d grumble about eating late and upsetting his digestion.
Unexpectedly, a hand brushed across Kate’s bottom and startled, she turned.
‘Now, let’s get you back to your chair, shall we?’ Hattie knocked Sir Henry’s hand away and, gripping the old man’s arm, spun him round. ‘Just like a bleedin’ nursing home,’ she muttered as she led him away.
A dinner gong sounded in the hallway and Kate watched the gaggle of tipsy residents head for the door.
Lucinda led the troops and sauntered down the hallway as Sir Henry, energised by the thought of dinner, grabbed a hunting horn from a display on the wall and cantered along behind. ‘Tallyho!’ he cried.
Staff guided guests to their seats and Kate found herself sitting alongside a widow from Wolverhampton, who explained that having spent a day with the Shaman, she was too exhausted to eat and, leaning back in her chair, promptly fell asleep.
The Shaman has much to answer for, Kate thought and edged her chair away from the empty seat next to her, reserved for the late guest. Mr Mack would probably dribble and she had her dress to consider.
The lights were dimmed and waiting staff appeared. They carried tureens of piping hot onion soup, the rising steam dancing in flames of brandy, adding theatre to the service.
‘Sorry I’m late,’ a voice whispered through the dimness and a hand reached for the chair next to Kate.
Kate spun around and for a moment wondered if the Shaman had spiked her drink. She was speechless as she stared at the man before her.
Mr Mack was possibly the most handsome man Kate had ever laid eyes on. Dressed in a dinner suit, immaculate white shirt and neat bow tie, he smiled as he took his place.
‘I hope I’ve not missed anything,’ he said. ‘Andrew Mack, at your service, but you can call me Andy.’ His grin lit up the room as he held out his hand.
In a trance, Kate reached out. Candlelight bounced off his glossy black hair and his dark eyes twinkled.
‘K-K-Katherine,’ she mumbled as she felt his warm flesh. ‘But you can call me Kate.’