Chapter Eighteen
Darkness descended on Boomerville and only a sliver of light lit the sky, where the silver crescent of the new moon sat in a mass of inky black cloud.
Evening traffic wound its way in a steady stream through the village and past the entrance gates to the hotel.
A coach had slowed, causing weary commuters to pause on their homeward journey and with a flash of neon, the coach indicated and turned onto the driveway.
The old Marland transport vehicle was emblazoned with large gold letters on each side, announcing the name of its owner, William’s Wheels. It cruised to a halt and the driver, complete with uniform and hat, silenced the engine.
Hattie appeared at the front door and waved. She had a grin as wide as the moon and stood resplendent in a sari, which was wrapped around her waist and draped across one shoulder, baring her midriff, as it fell softly to the ground.
‘Charabanc for Boomerville!’ the driver called out and leapt onto the gravel. ‘Didn’t recognise thee,’ he said, when he saw Hattie and moved forward to plant a kiss.
‘Look out, Willie,’ Hattie said. She jumped back to avoid William’s rough embrace and pointed to a red dot in the middle of her forehead. ‘You’ll smudge my bindi.’
‘Thought you’d cut tha’ self.’
‘Very funny,’ Hattie said. She touched the dot with her finger and frowned as a waxy red substance came away on her skin. Hattie knew that lipstick was not the dye of choice used by Hindu women for their bindi spot but she’d needed to improvise.
Residents, who’d been waiting in the hallway, poured out of the hotel and, as they wrapped scarves tightly and buttoned their coats, Hattie stood back and beckoned them onto the coach. ‘Form an orderly queue, there’s plenty of room for everyone.’
William doffed his cap and helped the ladies climb up and into the elderly vehicle while Sir Henry, wrapped in a muffler and sporting a trilby, held up his cane and called out, ‘By jingo, that’s a beauty!’
‘The finest in my fleet.’ William paused as Sir Henry admired his coach. ‘She’s a 1946, AEC Regal.’
‘Daimler chassis?’
‘Aye and a five-cylinder diesel engine.’
‘Brush coachworks, one of the best they made.’ Sir Henry’s eyes glazed. He was back in the heydays of his youth, when together with his brother, motor vehicles and engines were a passion as they roared around the family estate.
‘Never mind all the chit-chat,’ Hattie said as she helped Sir Henry find a seat then plonked herself on the front row beside William.
‘I didn’t realise that it was fancy dress.’ Jo appeared on the steps.
‘Just getting everyone in the party spirit.’
‘Aren’t you going to be cold in that get-up?’
‘Got two pairs of long johns hidden under here.’ Hattie swept her sari to one side to reveal thermal clad thighs. ‘Come on, Lucinda!’ Hattie called out as the artist grabbed a handrail unsteadily. ‘Smacked off her tits,’ Hattie whispered to Jo. ‘She’s been in with the Shaman all afternoon.’
Lucinda, wrapped in an old blanket that she’d taken from her art class, weaved down the aisle and fell onto a seat next to Sir Henry. She grinned foolishly and took the old man’s hand.
‘Waggons roll, Willie!’ Hattie said.
The coach moved off and Jo gripped her seat as Willie thrust his vehicle forward and hit the accelerator with a polished boot. In his youth, he’d been known as Whirlwind Willie, and in their younger days, a ride with Willie had been a big part of the thrill of a day’s outing for Jo and Hattie.
‘Should we have a sing-song?’ Hattie said.
‘Have you brushed up your Indian repertoire?’ Jo asked.
‘Only thing I know is “Vindaloo” by Fat Les.’
‘Perhaps you should save it for the way home.’
Hattie reached down and pulled out a box from under her seat. She fumbled with the lid. A spicy smell wafted down the coach, combined with the strong smell of diesel.
‘Just going to hand these out.’
‘What are they?’
‘I got Sandra to knock some appetisers up, whet everyone’s appetite.’ Hattie stuffed a samosa in Willie’s mouth as she passed.
Jo watched as Hattie began a belly dance. Faces lit up as guests, eye level with Hattie’s wobbling belly button, tucked in to a handful of spicy treats.
Kate was in the second row and as Hattie began to lead everyone in a chorus of, “Boom Shack-A-Lack”, she slipped out of her seat to sit beside Jo.
‘This is a great outing,’ Kate said and bit into an onion bhaji.
‘Yes, it makes a change for everyone to get out for the evening.’ Jo was watching Willie crank through the gears and winced as the old cogs squealed.
‘I haven’t had an Indian meal for ages.’ Kate licked her lips and searched for a tissue in her bag.
‘Well, prepare yourself for a feast,’ Jo said as she braced her body against the lurch of the coach which Willie had forced to career around a bend at speed. ‘Hattie regularly frequents the Bengal Balti and I am sure they’ll roll the red carpet out tonight.’
‘How lovely. I had a very light lunch so I’m looking forward to dinner.’
‘Is Andy not joining us?’
‘No, he doesn’t like spicy food, says it upsets his stomach.’
‘I’m surprised, a well-travelled man who looks the picture of health.’
‘We met at lunchtime and he promised he’d wait up for me.’
‘You seem to be getting along very well.’
‘He’s great.’ Kate beamed. ‘Everything I could ask for. I can’t believe that he’s come into my life. I certainly never expected anything like this to happen.’
‘Good looking, single, intelligent and rich.’ Jo gave a thumbs-up.
‘I keep waiting for the bubble to burst.’
Kate thought about the conversation she’d had with Andy earlier.
He’d been attentive as always, wanting to know how her writing was progressing and when she’d asked him how he’d passed his morning, he’d replied that he’d been looking at his investments and had asked Kate if she was confident that her money was working and what sort of accounts she held.
Unused to sharing her confidential affairs, Kate had changed the subject and had been pleased when it was time to go back to class.
‘I hope you’re enjoying your experience at Boomerville?’ Jo broke into Kate’s thoughts.
‘Yes, it’s perfect.’
‘How’s the novel coming along?’
‘Very well. I thought I was going to write a slushy romance but it seems to have taken a sinister twist and I don’t know where the dark thoughts are coming from.’
‘How interesting, crime is one of my favourite reads,’ Jo said. ‘Imagine, a best-seller that was born at Boomerville.’
‘I don’t know about a best-seller, getting it written will be a challenge, but I’ve wanted to write for years. It’s amazing to think that I’ve started a manuscript and, with luck, will eventually complete it.’
‘Well, I’m very thrilled for you. You’ve found love and in writing, embarked on something that gives you a great deal of satisfaction. My work is done.’
‘I couldn’t have begun to pen a novel without James.’
‘He’s a great teacher, isn’t he?’
‘The best. He’s inspired me in so many ways.’
‘I wish he could find someone to share his life,’ Jo said. ‘He had a rough time with his ex-wife and had a family to raise on his own.’
Kate thought about James and wondered if he’d heard from Helen.
She was due any time and from what little information Kate had gleaned from James, she sounded like a force to be reckoned with.
Kate hoped that James could make Helen see sense and accept their son’s wishes.
He was such a decent sort of man and Jo was right; James would make a wonderful partner for the right woman; he deserved to find happiness in love.
The two women stared out into the darkness and the winding road ahead as Willie wrestled with the mechanisms of the old coach.
The miles flashed by and a sign for Marland appeared in the gloom.
‘Nearly there!’ Hattie boomed as Willie eased off the accelerator and coaxed the vehicle into the town. Hattie grabbed the back of Willie’s seat and leaned in to show him where to park. ‘Toot your horn,’ she said and in moments, Biddu appeared on the restaurant steps.
He leapt back as Willie swerved to a halt.
‘Thank God.’ Jo let out a sigh as the tyres on Willie’s coach burned into the road. Her hands were clenched in her lap and she flexed her fingers as she stood. Willie’s driving certainly hadn’t improved over the years.
‘Biddu, me old mucker.’ Hattie grabbed her sari and ran down the steps into the warm embrace of their host.
‘Miss Hattie, how beautiful you look.’
‘I didn’t want to let you down.’
‘We are honoured to receive you and your guests to our restaurant.’
Hattie stood with Biddu on either side of the coach door and helped the boomers to disembark.
‘Welcome,’ Biddu said and shook everyone’s hand.
‘I hope the Balti banquet is up to your usual high standard.’ Hattie ushered the last folk off the bus and linked her arm through Biddu’s. ‘I’m absolutely starving.’
‘I am sure that your evening will be full and memorable,’ Biddu said and, with a beaming smile, escorted Miss Hattie into his restaurant.
* * *
James gripped a glass and poured a slug of whisky from the bottle of malt on the table in his living room. He’d just received a call from Jack and the explosive news that his youngest son had imparted merited a strong drink.
Jack had sounded anxious.
‘Hi, Dad, I’ve been meaning to give you a ring. I wasn’t sure when was the best time to, sort of, catch you.’
‘Hello, Jack, it’s good to hear you. Are you okay?’
‘Um, I, er . . . we . . . need to talk.’
‘I meant to say, last time we spoke, that Desiree is a very pretty name.’
‘She’s West Indian.’
‘I can’t wait to meet her.’
‘She’s pregnant.’
‘Pregnant?’
‘Yes, Dad, we’re expecting a baby. We’ve just found out that Desiree is pregnant.’
James took a deep breath and sat down. He forced a note of cheer to his voice. ‘Congratulations, Jack. You’re going to be a fantastic father.’
‘I’m terrified, Dad. I’ve really fucked things up.’
‘Do you love her?’
‘From the bottom of my heart.’
‘Then there’s nothing we can’t sort out and you know that I’ll help you.’
‘Her parents will kill me.’
‘Does Desiree love you?’
‘Absolutely; we don’t ever want to be apart.’
‘Then her parents will get used to the idea and will love you as much as I’ll love Desiree.’
‘But what about Mum?’
‘Leave your mum to me.’
‘Thanks, Dad.’ Jack stifled a sob. ‘Thanks for being there for me.’
‘Will you bring Desiree to meet me? Jump on a train and let’s have a weekend together. I’ll sort your fares out.’
‘Are y-you sure?’
‘Of course. I can’t wait to see you both.’
‘She’ll be happy to hear this.’
‘Not as happy as I am. It will all be okay, I promise. There’s nothing we can’t figure out and the sooner we make some plans the sooner you two can start to look forward to your future.’
‘Oh . . . that’s great, brill, you’re sick, Dad, really sick.’
James was thankful that his grasp of English slang helped him understand that Jack had paid him a compliment.
A cool dad.
It felt good. Perhaps he’d handled the call better than he thought.
But now, as James contemplated things, he felt anxious.
A baby? Jack’s news was shattering and James feared that he had a very rocky road to travel with his youngest son.
He’d help Jack as much as he could but, remembering his own naivety, knew that it wasn’t going to be easy.
And how was Helen going to take the additional news?
Her reaction to the fact that she was going to be a grandmother wasn’t to be underestimated.
Jack was making the same mistake that they’d made all those years ago and Helen would blame James.
But Tom and Jack had never been a mistake to James.
True, he’d never planned to have kids with Helen so early but James loved his sons with a passion and his life had focused on being the best dad that he could be, especially when Helen left.
He had loved his sons from the moment they were born and had enjoyed their growing years, even when he was exhausted from work and coping with running a household on his own.
James frowned.
He hated arguments and knowing that Helen was going to arrive any day made him anxious. She loved nothing more than a drama and would make a meal out of this latest episode, when all he hoped was that she’d be strong for Jack in his hour of need and not have the world revolve around herself.
Oh, well, what the hell, James thought as he prepared for bed.
Tomorrow was another day and he had a class to teach.
He felt that he was making good progress with the current group of students and was keen to know how Kate would develop the plot of her novel.
Andy seemed to have stopped coming to the writing class and James was delighted.
He’d been a hindrance and many of the women students barely paid attention when Andy was in the room.
His absence was a bonus and allowed James more time with Kate when Andy wasn’t constantly breathing down her neck.
If only James was breathing down Kate’s beautiful neck!
He carried his glass into the kitchen and, as he drained the contents and placed it in the sink, he told himself that he must stop thinking about her.
It achieved nothing. For Kate wouldn’t so much as glance in his direction while Andy was on the scene.
But as James climbed the stairs to his lonely bedroom, he knew that Kate would dominate his thoughts and be a major part of his dreams and with a frustrated sigh, he got ready for bed.