Chapter Nine
Hattie lay in a bath in Jo’s house and closed her eyes. Hot water trickled from the faucet and she was tempted to grab a few winks as scented foam billowed over the roll-top edge of the freestanding tub.
Hattie enjoyed a soak in the deep and comfortable bath, with a generous lashing of Jo’s expensive oils.
It was a one-way trip to relaxation heaven and following her afternoon with Paul the Potter, she felt the need for a restorative rest. The man had magic in his hands and he’d rubbed and caressed Hattie’s willing body, treating her to all the skills that he used when moulding soft, moist clay, manipulating the motions into orgasmic proportions that produced enough explosive energy to fire Hattie up for the best part of three hours.
Exhausted, Hattie soon drifted off to sleep. Her gentle snores purred around the lofty room as she languished in the warm enveloping water.
Suddenly, the bathroom door flew open and Hattie opened her eyes, startled.
‘Have you slid down the plug-hole?’ Jo said as she stood in the doorway. She held a large fluffy towel in her hands. ‘I brought this from the airing cupboard. It’s still warm.’
As Hattie sat up, water gushed over the rim of the bath and pooled across the wooden floor. Bubbles lay several inches deep and Bunty, who’d followed Jo, paddled through the damp mess.
‘Bloody hell, Hattie, this lot will be leaking down to the living room!’ Jo leapt across the bath to turn the tap off. ‘Did you have to fill it so full?’ She stared at Hattie’s face. It was caked in white goo. ‘Is that a mud-pack?’
Hattie grabbed a flannel as Jo leaned in closer to inspect the daubs of substance hardening on Hattie’s cheeks.
‘It looks like clay on your cheeks,’ Jo said, looking puzzled.
Not the only cheeks covered in clay! Hattie thought and with haste, dabbed at her face.
‘I’ve got some very good news,’ Jo announced. She reached for a chair and sat down.
‘Astonish me.’ Hattie screwed her eyes up and scrubbed at her skin.
‘Potter Paul has been in touch and his class can resume from tomorrow.’
‘Aye, that’s cracking,’ Hattie replied and thought about the class he’d taught her that very afternoon. It had made mug handles look like child’s play. In the blink of an eye they’d moved swiftly on to maintaining a firm erection in a medium far more interesting than clay.
‘Thank goodness he didn’t suffer any lasting injuries when you spun off the wheel. He says his hands are working perfectly. It’s such a relief.’
‘That’s grand.’ Hattie remembered the recent relief Paul’s hands had administered on her willing parts.
‘Are you all right? You seem very distant.’
‘Aye, right as rain.’ Hattie flung the flannel to one side and stepped out of the water. ‘Bleedin’ hell! What’s that?’ A bubble bounced across the floor and she leapt back in the bath.
‘It’s only Bunty.’ Jo scooped the puppy onto her knee. ‘Now you’ve soaked the floor again.’ Jo stared at the water seeping into crevices. ‘You used a lot of face-pack; there’s clay everywhere.’
‘Got to keep myself beautiful.’ Hattie wrapped her body in the thick towel and tentatively stepped out of the bath. ‘Does that mutt have to follow you everywhere?’ She glared at Bunty, whose head peeped from a shroud of bubbles as she licked her way out.
Jo scooped the dog under one arm and stood up. ‘Don’t be late for dinner.’
‘Don’t worry, I’ll be there. I’m ravenous. I can’t imagine where I’ve got my appetite from.’
A little while later, Hattie hurried through the hotel and, reaching the hallway, took the stairs two at a time. She felt energised from her afternoon with the potter and now, under strict instructions from Jo, had been sent to ensure that Bob was revived after his journey and ready for dinner.
She stood outside his bedroom door and gently knocked. ‘Only me,’ Hattie called out, ‘do you need a hand with anything?’
The door opened and Bob appeared.
Hattie could see that he’d taken a considerable amount of time with his appearance and she was impressed by the cut of his suit as he strutted across the landing and skipped down the stairs to the hall where he caught his reflection in the mirror above the console table.
‘Fifty-something isn’t so bad.’ Bob straightened his tie and smoothed the palm of his hand over his head.
‘It’s a shame Anthony couldn’t join you,’ Hattie said.
‘His job is too demanding to take time off at this time of year,’ Bob replied. Anthony was the manager of a theatre in Chipping Hodbury. ‘But it gives me plenty of time to catch up with Jo, I’ve been looking forward to it.’
Hattie was aware that Bob and Anthony had homes in London and the Cotswolds and Bob’s office was in the heart of the West End.
His life was an eclectic mix of business and social affairs and combined with a deep faith in his spiritual leanings, Bob had found his true path.
His middle years were so far proving to be his best. But everyone deserved a rest and she knew that his batteries needed recharging.
‘Very smart,’ Hattie said, ‘you look extremely handsome.’
Bob spun around. Hattie was wearing a mid-calf emerald-green dress that clung tightly to every inch of her body. ‘Gorgeous dress, sweetie,’ he said. ‘It would look even better if it fitted.’
‘You’re just jealous of my voluptuous curves and sexual appeal.’ Hattie ignored Bob’s sarcasm and took his arm. ‘Have you seen the sainted one?’
‘If you mean Jo, no I haven’t, but I’m far more concerned that I’ll run into that horse-faced eighties throwback with wandering hands.’ Bob glanced nervously down the hall. ‘For God’s sake don’t put me anywhere near her.’
‘Ah, you mean the lovely Lucinda.’ Hattie led Bob into the Green Room, where a waiter poured drinks. ‘Don’t worry, we’ve partnered her with a very charming dinner companion.’ She passed a cocktail to Bob. ‘Here, get your gob around this before the battle begins.’
The room began to fill as guests arrived to relax and chat about the events of the day. The aerobics class had enjoyed a session of Nifty Fifties and members’ cheeks glowed from their afternoon exertions.
‘Do you enjoy exercise?’ Bob asked Hattie as they skirted the group and found a seat next to the Mulberry brothers, in chairs by the fire.
‘My favourite is a cross between a lunge and a crunch,’ Hattie said as she made Bob comfortable. ‘I call it lunch.’
Pottery students were buzzing with the news that Paul would soon be restored to the helm of their wheels, whilst the would-be novelists discussed their class.
They thought that James was a motivating tutor and writing longhand had been inspirational.
Sir Henry and Hugo had been on their best behaviour in Curry in a Hurry.
After sharpening up their knife skills they were looking forward to Heaven-Sent Bread the following morning.
‘Sandra has a marvellous wrist action,’ Sir Henry said as he knocked back a sherry. ‘Had me chillies chopped before you could say, by jingo!’
‘I remember Cook, pounding away on the kitchen table at Raven Hall,’ Hugo said and thought fondly of the kitchen in his family home.
He looked at Hattie and picked up his spectacles to read the menu.
Placing them on the bridge of his nose, he sighed.
‘Such powerful hands.’ He stared longingly at Hattie as she leaned in to top up his glass.
‘Settle down, your glasses are steaming up,’ Hattie said, then turned to Bob who was staring at her cleavage.
‘What on earth have you got down there?’ Bob whispered. A wooden knob peeped out of the front of Hattie’s dress. ‘Has it got batteries?’
‘Damage limitation,’ Hattie replied in a conspiratorial voice. ‘If Hugo’s fingers come near me, he’ll have this to grapple with.’ She produced a mini rolling pin and Bob swerved away.
‘Crikey, I wouldn’t put it past you.’ He looked at Hattie with new admiration.
‘Unfortunately, it turns the randy old devil on.’
‘A childhood fetish?’
‘Naturally. Nanny, the cook, his governess.’
Dinner was announced and the residents gathered to head into the restaurant. Hattie introduced Bob to Kate and could see that he was delighted to meet his dining partner. He held her chair out as she sat down.
‘I was beginning to think I was the youngest here,’ Hattie heard Bob say as he shook out a linen napkin and placed it on his knee. ‘Surely you don’t qualify for Boomerville?’
Kate smiled. ‘That’s very flattering, but I can assure you that I more than meet the criteria.’
On the other side of the room, Hattie took Andy’s arm and led him to a table where Lucinda sat, waiting to meet her dinner companion.
She fluttered her eyelashes and stretched out her arm and Hattie saw Andy recoil as he shook the artist’s hand.
Hattie turned and, with a smile, joined Jo by the dining door where they stood to observe their guests.
‘Double-oh-seven’s firing blanks,’ Hattie said as she watched Andy pick over his starter while Lucinda prattled on.
‘I think he fired them all before dinner. Room service took champagne up to Kate’s room at six o’clock.’
‘Charged to her account?’
‘Actually, no, it’s gone on his tab.’
‘There’s a surprise.’
‘Don’t be so judgemental, he seems like a charming man.’ Jo picked up a bottle of chilled white wine. ‘Do you want to pour the red?’
Hattie watched Andy gaze over at Kate’s table where his bedfellow was giggling and flirting with Bob. ‘Aye, no problem,’ she said and grabbed a bottle of Merlot.
Sir Henry and Hugo were enjoying the company of a group of locals who’d participated that day in Boomers Re-Boot, a strenuous activity course in the grounds of the hotel.
‘Hattie, old girl,’ Sir Henry called, ‘what say Hugo and I knock up a Balti for this lithesome lot?’ He looked around the table. Robust-looking women of good farming stock, faces still flushed with exertion, giggled as Sir Henry continued. ‘A little bit of Indian heaven? Do us all good.’
‘I think that’s a cracking idea,’ Hattie said as she poured the wine. ‘We could have a theme night. I’ll talk to the boss.’
‘The last days of the Raj,’ Sir Henry said.
‘Happy times.’ Hugo nodded.
‘For One Night Only the Boomerville Balti! Gentlemen, brush up your naans in Heaven-Sent Bread,’ Hattie said. ‘I’m sure these ladies would be happy to come back and join us for an evening of Indian cuisine.’
The boot-camp boomers nodded eagerly.
‘Did I hear you correctly?’ Jo grabbed Hattie by the arm as they met to replenish the wine. ‘We’re turning the hotel into a Balti palace for the evening?’
‘Bloody brilliant idea. Open it to the public and you’ll be bursting at the seams.’
‘But Henry and Hugo can’t peel a potato; they’ve been spoon-fed all their lives.’ Jo was aghast.
‘Don’t let them anywhere near the menu, just let them think they’ve contributed or you’ll have a Delhi-belly outbreak faster than you can boil an egg.’
‘Well, it might not be such a bad idea.’
‘The craft class can knock up some outfits and the Shaman can do a few mystical Indian tricks. Get everyone involved, it’s got winner all over it.’ Hattie beamed.
‘We can look at the diary in the morning and set a date. Go easy on the Merlot, most of the residents are half-cut and we haven’t served the main course yet.’
* * *
Kate sat in the Red Room with Bob and felt a comforting glow as they stared at the fire where logs crackled in the hearth, blazing cheerily.
Dinner had been delicious and Bob’s company entertaining.
She’d told him about her life and how she’d thrown herself into studies to create the opportunity to start her business and ultimately purchase her beloved old schoolhouse.
She’d asked about Bob’s life and been fascinated by his tales of dealing with high profile clients.
‘They’re just like the rest of us,’ Bob said, ‘but life in the limelight can change people and sometimes I have to be strict in my guidance and ensure they don’t go off track.’
‘Is Zach a good client?’ Kate asked, keen to hear about Jo’s youngest son. His menus were one of the highlights of Boomerville and she told Bob that Foraging with the Gypsy Chef was one of her favourite programmes.
‘That boy is a master in the kitchen,’ Bob was discreet. ‘He’s handsome, charming, makes brilliant TV and has fans all over the world.’ Bob thought about the scrapes he’d dragged Zach out of and the continued effort it took to keep the celebrity chef away from the press and incriminating headlines.
‘I think you must be a wonderful agent. I’d love to be a fly-on-the-wall in your life.’ Kate was riveted by Bob. She wanted to know all about his relationship with Anthony and what had kept them together as a couple.
‘A loving home,’ Bob said. ‘We adore our country house. It’s our refuge, a place to unwind with close friends. You must come and stay.’
‘I’d love to,’ Kate said, ‘and I hope you’ll visit my home too.’
Bob had sympathised as Kate spoke of her parents’ deaths and Kate was glued to Bob’s words as he told her about the business world of celebrities and all the mischief that went on behind the scenes.
They were so engrossed in each other that they didn’t see Andy approach.
‘Ah, there you are,’ Andy said.
Kate’s eyes lit up. ‘Bob, can I introduce you to Andy Mack.’ She wriggled along the sofa to make room.
Bob held out his hand. ‘Charmed to meet you. Do join us.’
‘God, it’s a relief to get away from that dreadful woman.’ Andy slid alongside Kate. ‘I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed your company.’
‘You’ve met Lucinda.’
‘What an old crone.’ Andy shook his head. ‘I thought I’d never get rid of her.’ He laid an arm across Kate’s shoulder.
A waiter served coffee and Kate listened to the two men as Bob and Andy discussed Lucinda.
She looked adoringly at Andy. His sex appeal oozed and she felt that she could drown in the pools of his incredibly dark eyes as she snuggled into his trim and muscled body, longing to reach out and stroke the thick black hair, slightly greying at the sides, which gave her lover a distinguished look that sat well on a man of his height.
‘It’s past my bedtime.’ Bob finished his drink and put the empty glass on the table. ‘It’s been a very long day. I’ll say goodnight.’ Bob leaned over to kiss Kate on the cheek. ‘Sleep well.’
‘Oh, we will,’ Andy said and moved closer to Kate. Her body shivered with anticipation as his warm lips brushed her ear and he whispered, ‘Of that, I have no doubt!’