Chapter Eleven
The next morning there was an excited buzz in the Rose Room, where residents gathered for breakfast. Bright sunshine burst through the French windows, latticing light across tables as staff moved around, topping up cups and taking orders.
Guests munched on muesli and whispered over plates of crispy bacon and lightly poached eggs.
Lucinda reached for a jar of gooseberry marmalade. A smug smile crept across her lips as she spread the thick sweet substance over her toast. She broke a piece and popped it into her mouth.
At last, she had her own class!
Today, she would endeavour to bring creativity into the lives of a group of guests who would be inspired by her talent.
She thought back to the day that she read the advert for Boomerville in her local paper.
She’d been blinded by the vision that this was her path, the route to her future and a journey that she had to make.
Lucinda had no money and scraped a living by teaching and selling the occasional painting.
She lived in a shared house with a handful of other eccentric creatives on the outskirts of London and led a bohemian life, but as the years progressed she knew that she needed some form of security as she got older.
Boomerville had come like a bolt out of the blue, a sign that she must follow and, acting on instinct, Lucinda filled in the booking form, reserved a seat on a train and began to pack.
Now, as she sat in the dining room, she thought about her finances. Her money was running out. She urgently needed a job or a wealthy lover.
Lucinda smiled to herself as she finished her breakfast and tossed her napkin to one side.
She’d been working on her options since her arrival a couple of weeks ago and had high hopes for both.
Today would accelerate her mission. A pop-up art class had been announced for that afternoon and Lucinda was to be the tutor.
As she made her way out of the room, she glanced at the other diners and knew that those lucky enough to have booked a place were wondering what the subject matter would be and whether Lucinda was a suitable instructor.
Finally, she was going to be put to the test.
* * *
Jo returned from her morning walk with Bunty and as she went into reception was surprised to see a queue by the desk. ‘What’s going on?’ she asked.
‘The life class is a sell-out,’ Hattie said.
‘What life class?’ Jo pulled out a chair and sat down as Hattie told disappointed residents that the class was now full but they’d be running another very soon.
‘I thought I’d mentioned it.’
‘I think I’d have remembered.’ Jo drummed her fingers on the desk and waited for Hattie to explain.
‘Lucinda’s been banging on about art classes and I thought it might be a good idea to see what she’s made of. I’ve arranged a pop-up.’
‘Pop-up?’
‘Aye, there’s an empty studio where the kennels used to be. We might as well make good use of it.’
‘But there’s no heating in there and it’s cold.’
‘I’ve told everyone to layer up.’
‘And what exactly is Lucinda teaching the budding artists to do?’
‘Oh, I don’t know, paint bowls of fruit, that sort of stuff. You should be pleased. We’ve got six outsiders all paying top price for the privilege, plus twelve residents. It’s a cracking earner.’
‘What’s Lucinda getting out of it?’
Hattie fiddled with the diary. ‘I said we’d come to an arrangement on other classes, offset it or something.’
‘Well, I don’t suppose it can do any harm; it will bring new people to experience Boomerville and might have a ripple effect.’
‘Like a tidal wave.’
‘I’m going out with Pete and we were thinking that we might have a night away,’ Jo said. ‘Are you free to keep an eye on things?’
‘Aye, don’t you worry about a thing, leave it in my capable hands.’ Hattie spun on her chair. ‘You go and have a good time.’
‘Pete wants to go to an auction of old farm machinery. It’s near Skipton and there’s a lovely little hotel close by.’
‘Crackin’, it will do you good to have a night off.’ Hattie frowned. ‘You’ll be taking the mutt with you?’
‘Of course, the hotel is dog friendly. Bunty will be made welcome.’
‘That’s all right then.’ Hattie had no plans for pooch sitting.
‘I’ll go and check the day’s menus and make sure that Sandra has everything she needs.’ Jo stood up and opened the kitchen door. ‘We’ll be heading off soon. Call me if you need anything.’
‘Only in a dire emergency. There’s nowt special happening, so get off and enjoy yourselves.’ Hattie waited for the door to close then spun on her chair and punched the air.
Perfect! Jo’s timing couldn’t be better. She turned to the switchboard and placed a call to Lucinda’s room.
‘All sorted,’ Hattie said. ‘The class starts at two and it’s full.’
She listened to Lucinda’s instructions then hung up.
Placing another call to housekeeping, she arranged for portable heaters to be placed in the old kennels.
The new art studio would be freezing without any heating.
She’d find Alf, then have a wander over there and get him to tart the place up a bit.
Hattie sat back and twirled a pencil in her fingers as she thought about the afternoon ahead.
She could hardly wait.
* * *
Kate finished her tea and pushed her chair back from the table. She’d enjoyed a delicious breakfast of poached eggs and, fortified for the morning, was keen to get to class where her new project was progressing well.
She’d left Andy in bed.
He’d seemed reluctant to get up and it was all she could do not to climb back in and snuggle next to him under the cosy duvet. Kissing him tenderly on the forehead, she hung a ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the door and crept out.
As Kate wandered through the conservatory, she wondered if they ought to share a room, for they’d certainly spent every moment of their spare time together and Andy had suggested that it would make sense not to be creeping along corridors in the early hours.
Boomerville might miss the revenue that two rooms provided but the hotel was busy and an extra room would be occupied in no time.
But Kate was hesitant. It was early days in the relationship and for no reason that she could justify, part of her held back.
She grabbed her jacket from a hook and stepped into the garden. There was time to have a quick walk before she went to class. She couldn’t wait to start writing and as she thrust her hands into her pockets and picked up her step, her thoughts were filled with storylines and characters.
Her muse was demanding that morning.
Kate knew that something special was happening at Boomerville.
She’d come alive again and couldn’t wait to start each day.
As she paced through the garden, the wind smacked, and uplifting gusts gave her the urge to run along the path.
An inner happiness was filling her with enthusiasm for life.
It reminded her of the days when she’d started her business, when there were never enough hours and she’d loved every single moment as she plotted and planned and watched her dreams become reality.
Now, having been dormant for far too long, that feeling was back.
Boomerville was helping and meeting Andy was the icing on the cake.
It made her feel special. Sex was good for her soul and to experience love with a man who made her heart leap at his touch was something Kate had feared would never happen.
But something else was happening too.
Writing classes had reignited her creative side and James was a wonderful teacher. His enthusiasm encouraged Kate to explore the magic that flowed through her fingers where thoughts became sentences. He gave her confidence to face her fear and try her hand at the written word.
A story that had been in her head for years was sprouting.
A sapling where new shoots led Kate along its spiky path, with twists and turns creating potential in her novel.
Originally titled The Dating Game, her imagination had surprised her.
Expecting to write prose of romance and happy endings, Kate found that a darker side had emerged and the genre had changed as well as the title.
With a one-word addition, The Deadly Dating Game was born.
James encouraged her to not be in fear of a plot that developed quite differently from the one she’d begun.
He taught her how to build a strong outline and plan the framework so that all she had to do was fill it in and, in time, write the story.
Kate kicked at piles of leaves and strolled through to the meadow. She wished she’d put a notebook in her pocket; a plot idea was on her mind and she longed to write it down. She closed her eyes in an attempt to commit it to memory and was startled when she heard a voice.
‘Namaste.’
Kate stopped. She’d almost reached the Shaman’s tepee but he was nowhere to be seen.
‘Namaste.’
With a start, Kate realised that he was standing right behind her.
‘Oh, you made me jump!’
‘Your hands are better?’
‘Er, yes, I think they are.’ Kate wriggled her fingers in her pockets and realised that she’d had no pain whatsoever since their last meeting.
‘So now you can write.’
‘How did you know?’
‘I just know.’ His green eyes glinted.
‘Thank you,’ she whispered.
‘Be careful, there is evil around you.’
Mesmerised, Kate stared. His eyes had become murky pools and she was uncontrollably drawn.
She felt herself being pulled into the dark depths and staggered back, rubbing her eyes with her hands.
When she looked up, the Shaman had disappeared.
A tingle ran through her fingers, spreading a warmth through her hands and, after the moment of panic, she felt an inner calm.
But the Shaman was a mystery. His ways were odd and she had no longing to learn more about Shamanism than was necessary.
Kate checked her watch. She must hurry or she’d be late.
She turned to head back to the hotel and as she walked, she thought about his words.
What was all that nonsense about evil? It was confusing and impossible to fathom.
She felt a shiver and decided that it might be a good idea to find another route for her walk.
Ahead, a group of students gathered to unlatch the gates that led from the garden to the meadow and as they came in sight, Kate saw that some were heading for the tepee and others to the gypsy caravan. Kate smiled and pleasantries were exchanged.
‘Enjoy your day!’
Boomerville, at times, felt like a holiday camp and wherever she went, Kate was met with happy people and smiling faces.
It was a recipe for feeling good and no wonder the courses were so busy.
The place seemed full of the elixir of life and maturing adults, like Kate, were clearly enjoying their stay.
But there was something about the meadow that she couldn’t explain.
The atmosphere changed whenever she walked through the pretty pasture and as smoke puffed from the tepee, tumbleweed blew across her path.
Kate hurried away and vowed not to participate in sessions there, nor let her superstitions get the better of her.
She turned into the courtyard.
James stood by the window of the studio. He smiled and waved when he saw her approach and Kate visualised the welcoming fire and hot coffee and hoped that James had time to chat about her work before class began.
She was happy and life at Boomerville was all that she had hoped it would be. Thank goodness she’d found it! Kate crossed the cobbles and, returning the greeting, hurried to her class.