Chapter Thirty-Seven
Several months after the worst flooding ever known in the county of Westmarland, life began to return to normal for the inhabitants of Kirkton Sowerby.
Nature had waved her magic wand over the waterlogged soil that had been deposited on the village green and in its place a carpet of bluebells swayed beneath the glow of a warm spring sky.
It had taken weeks for the bridge connecting the village to the main road to be repaired, separating children in the outlying areas from their school and workers from travelling to their businesses.
Most of the village had been saved from the distress of flood damage and with houses and cottages sitting on higher ground above the River Bevan, only a few homes had needed repair.
As tulips and daffodils burst through borders dotted around the hamlet, the night of the storm and the village’s lucky escape became a memory that would be talked about in the King’s Arms for many years to come.
But across the road at Boomerville, a different tale was told.
The hotel had suffered badly. The ancient structure had been rocked and, despite standing strong in the heavy wind and gales, the gracious manor house was waterlogged and the contents severely damaged when the river broke its banks and flooded through the grounds.
No one had ever seen anything like it in such a short space of time and Boomerville seemed to have taken the very worst of the weather that night.
The water level had reached waist-high throughout the building, destroying everything in its path.
Carpets, curtains and Jo’s beautiful antique furniture were ruined as it floated about with debris brought in from the storm.
In Sandra’s kitchen, the equipment had smashed as the water wrenched it from the walls, and outside in the courtyard the studios had taken a severe battering too.
In the garden, however, Mother Nature had intervened and now, signs of recovery showed beneath the walls, as the rich green of herbaceous plants peeked through the dark earth alongside crocuses, violets and colourful wallflowers.
Hattie and Jo strolled arm in arm on the newly gravelled path leading away from the meadow, where smoke puffed from the recently re-erected tepee. The gypsy caravan stood proud as Alf, cap at an angle and roll-up in place, applied a last coat of paint to dry in the sunshine.
Bunty trotted along behind. The growing dog was playful and rolled her ball for Alf to throw.
‘I hope that we’re back in business soon,’ Hattie said as they walked towards the hotel and gazed at the old buildings. ‘What a calamity it was, being flooded out so soon after opening.’
‘I fear it’s going to be some time before we can re-open the doors to the public,’ Jo replied.
With the fells as a backdrop and bathed in a soft light, the house stood proud and Jo felt her heart swell as she looked at the property that had been both her home and business for the best part of her life.
She’d wept when the storm subsided and the waters drained away, leaving devastation that she’d never envisaged on the day when the rain began to fall.
Together with Hattie and Pete, she’d wandered through the ruined rooms and wondered how on earth they would ever get back on their feet.
But Jo was made of strong stuff and with a stoical Hattie refusing to be downcast and Pete as practical as ever, they made a plan to bring Boomerville back to life.
They set about the clean-up.
Help had soon arrived and with many pairs of hands volunteering to set-to and get stuck in, progress was slowly made.
The rooms upstairs were undamaged and beds were available for those that needed them, whilst downstairs everywhere had to be gutted.
Broken and ravaged furniture was piled high on the driveway alongside sodden carpets and damaged rugs.
In time, when the bridge was repaired and the road re-opened, skips arrived and were piled high.
Floors and walls were scrubbed and disinfected and windows and doors repaired.
‘The plaster has to come off in most of the reception rooms,’ Jo said, with a deep sigh.
‘Aye, the electrician says the same in the restaurant too,’ Hattie agreed.
‘It could be months before the work is finished. What’s going to happen to our boomers?’
‘They’ll still be there, chomping at the bit to get back,’ Hattie said. ‘You’ll soon have the place full and firing on all cylinders again.’
‘Lucinda has been a great help,’ Jo commented as they continued along the path.
Lucinda had moved out and into the loft above the pottery studio, freeing up her room in the hotel.
She’d had no hesitation in helping during the weeks following the storm and said that it was therapeutic to work hard.
It helped to heal her broken heart. Hattie was sure that Lucinda was overcoming her grief with other aids and that Paul was now part of the healing process, but she kept her thoughts to herself.
‘It was wonderful to have Bob and Anthony here too.’ Jo smiled as she remembered the arrival of her much-loved friend and his partner, who’d both taken time out to assist.
‘Aye, it was the talk of the village.’ Hattie smiled.
The pair had arrived, top to toe in leathers, helmets and boots, on Anthony’s Harley-Davidson.
They could be seen during the day zooming around as they fetched essential supplies, and at night held court in the King’s Arms, regaling locals with back-stage tales of the theatre and London celebrity life.
They’d reached the top of the steps and stopped when they saw a man and a woman standing by an open window. The couple leaned out and waved.
‘Good to see that James and Kate finally got together.’ Jo smiled and returned the greeting. In the last few weeks, when people had turned up on her doorstep and offered to help, James and Kate had been the first to volunteer.
Kate hadn’t gone back home after the flood.
She’d been adamant that she would stay on to assist. James too had started work on the storm damage and the couple were together every day.
With hot meals, cakes and snacks arriving from the kind folk in the village, the community feeling was strong and they all pulled together.
Jo’s team was boosted when Alf and Sandra got stuck in alongside staff and villagers and everyone had their makeshift picnic meals together and bonded as they toiled from dawn until dusk.
Whether it was the physical work in close proximity that drew Kate closer to James was anyone’s guess, but the couple became inseparable and Jo and Hattie watched love blossom once more at Boomerville.
‘It was a pity about Andy Mack,’ Jo said as they headed down the steps and across the lawn.
‘Not in my book,’ Hattie snapped. ‘Bleedin’ good riddance to him if you ask me.’
‘I’m so glad that James and Kate have named the day,’ Jo said.
‘It’s going to be a wedding with a difference, that’s for sure.’ Hattie grinned. ‘I can’t wait!’
* * *
Kate picked up a sponge and plunged it into a bucket of hot soapy water. She wriggled her fingers to create a lather and, gripping the soggy mass, wrung it tightly.
Her fingers were pain free.
There was no discomfort or ache and as Kate lifted the bucket away from the tap, she realised that she felt absolutely fantastic in every aspect of her life.
Who would have thought that this could happen after ending her relationship with Andy?
She’d believed her heart to be broken and had lost most of her money but a terrible flood had bonded her to Boomerville, within hours of her plans to return home.
And what would home have been for her then?
A lonely old house to rattle around in with memories of her poor father haunting her for the rest of her days.
Instead, a miracle had happened. On the day of the storms, the floodgates had literally opened for Kate and her life had magically changed.
Her miracle was called James.
* * *
As one of the last to leave the hotel, James had helped Kate into a rescue craft and as it forced its way through the thundering water, she’d glimpsed the tail end of a canoe, gliding further upstream.
The Shaman stood tall as he paddled and Kate was sure that he’d held up his hand and acknowledged her before disappearing into the darkness.
They’d learnt later that he’d been searching everywhere for Lucinda and found her on the upper floor of the pottery studio, where he’d helped her down and into his canoe.
Kate had been subdued as they sat in the boat and as James put his arm around her shoulders, she remembered the Shaman’s words.
There is a power amongst us that threatens!
She wondered if that threatening power had manifested in the form of Andy Mack. The Shaman had been warning them all. He certainly seemed to protect and help and Kate had no doubt that he had healing powers too.
When Andy jumped from the window, they’d all held their breath. He’d leapt far away from the boat below as if purposefully leaping to a certain death. Kate knew that Andy couldn’t swim and with his heavy clothing and the vicious current, he was certain to be carried away.
There’d been no news while they waited at the emergency centre and several days later, they were allowed to go back to the hotel.
Kate made her mind up that she was going to stay on and help with the aftermath of the storm.
She hoped that she’d have word of her missing money but didn’t expect much joy on that and, meanwhile, knew that there was a lot of hard work to be done helping Jo and Hattie.
James had no hesitation in assisting too. He’d immediately offered his services and within a day, he’d moved into Kate’s room.
They’d been inseparable ever since.
Kate wondered why it had taken so long for her to see that James was a wonderful man.
She knew now that she must have been terribly vulnerable when she arrived at Boomerville, which would explain why she’d fallen into a relationship with Andy that had been mostly in the bedroom and was without any depth.
She hadn’t seen Andy for what he really was.
A gigolo.
A man ultimately supported by a woman to be her escort or lover. But this particular gigolo had also been a crook and Kate had been foolish. One day she might write about it in a book and use her experience as research for a story that few would believe was fact.
But in the meantime, her own unfolding story was something she was looking forward to.
* * *
‘Come on slowcoach,’ a voice called and Kate looked up.
‘I didn’t see you there,’ Kate said.
‘What are you smiling at?’ James asked. He reached out and took the bucket then leaned in and kissed her, closing his eyes as their lips touched. ‘We’ve almost finished,’ he mumbled, ‘and then we can go to our room.’
‘Not until the kitchen is spick and span.’
They found Sandra standing by a new stove. She looked puzzled as she studied an instruction book and fiddled around with the dials. Alf stood close by and poured boiling water into a teapot, from a sparkling urn.
‘Does tha’ fancy a cuppa?’ he asked.
‘Two sugars for me,’ James replied, ‘but Kate is sweet enough.’
‘Is that a sick bucket you’re carrying around?’ Alf shook his head. ‘Tha’ll not be so sentimental once tha’s married.’
‘Aye, all that stuff soon wears off,’ Sandra mumbled. She was distracted as she pressed a button and the cooker sprang to life. ‘Induction hobs!’ She cursed as she placed a pan cautiously down. ‘More like corruption hobs. What was wrong with good old Calor gas?’
‘Your kitchen is now state-of-the-art.’ Kate ran her sponge over the new tiling. ‘You have the flood to thank for that. Thank goodness Jo made it her first priority and you’re up and running again.’
‘A kitchen is the heart of the home,’ James said as he polished a stainless-steel table.
‘All new-fangled gadgets.’ Sandra’s eyebrows raised as the soup in her pan boiled in seconds and bubbled up the sides.
‘I’m so glad that it’s all ready for our wedding.’ Kate looked at James. ‘Fully operational, just in time.’
‘I’m leaving that to Hattie,’ Sandra mumbled and put the pan on the table. ‘She says she’s got the catering sorted and it’s going to be a surprise.’
‘It’s all in her capable hands and we know that she’ll do a great job.’ Kate smiled and together with James continued with the final clean of the kitchen.
Alf glanced at Sandra and shrugged his shoulders. The pair silently wondered if the couple beside them would still be smiling when they found out what Hattie, their wedding planner, had prepared for the day.
Only at Boomerville! their look seemed to say.