Boomerang Read Online Free

that, it’s easy.”
    Hilda Keller paused over her food. “You seem to know something about it, Mr.—?”
    “Fletcher’s the name. Yeah, I suppose I do—there’s no point in false modesty. I’ve been at it a few years, talking on radio, demonstrating on telly, all around the world. Say, I might be able to fix something for Wilfred. Give him a hand, like....”
    * * * *
    In the kitchen at Porthcove Studios, Joyce Willis, the cook, flushed with anger as she prepared dinner with Val’s assistance.
    “That Bullard person’s never satisfied, is he? No matter what the menu says, he wants steak when we serve fish, and curry when lamb’s on. I don’t know why you let him get away with it, Mrs. Courtney, I really don’t. He’s a pain in the neck.”
    Joyce slammed down a saucepan on the stainless steel table.
    “Yes, well,” Val said mildly. “I might agree with you—in private—but he is paying, you know. And we do try to give satisfaction.”
    Joyce sniffed expressively.
    “Satisfaction, is it? That one? Never! No matter what you put in front of him, he’ll want something different. No matter what I cook special for him, he’ll complain. You ought to send him packing, that’s what. I hear things, you know—he’s upsetting everybody.”
    She chopped onions rapidly with a sharp knife.
    “Mind your fingers,” Val said. “Just try to stay calm.” She sighed, and wished she could send George Bullard packing.
    George Bullard moved quietly along the passage in the annexe towards the room that Linda shared with Duke Dickson. Lucky man, he thought enviously; too young to know what he’d got there, too young to appreciate her.
    He’d seen her arrive back from the harbour and heard her splashing about in the bathroom, but he wasn’t sure if Duke was in their room or not. Nothing ventured, nothing seen, he told himself.
    He paused with his ear against the door. He heard small movements but no voices. He turned the handle and opened the door without knocking.
    Linda lay on the bed wearing a pair of bikini pants and smoking a cigarette. When she saw him, she put out her tongue.
    “That’s rude,” he said.
    A voice came from behind the door. “Seen all you want, you dirty old man?”
    Bullard flushed. “I just came to see—”
    “I know what you came to see,” Duke said contemptuously. “You can look, and that’s all you can do. Now beat it.”
    He gave Bullard the finger.
    As Bullard closed the door and went back to his own room, he heard Linda laughing.
    The air was still warm and scented with blossom. The sky was cloudless. Margo and Sammy strolled side by side in the grounds of the studio after dinner.
    “I’m beginning to wish I’d never come,” Sammy said gloomily. “George never lets up, does he?”
    Margo made a rude noise.
    “Ignore him, Sammy. If you let him see he’s getting you down, he won’t stop. Ignore him and he’ll get tired of baiting you and go away.”
    “I wish he would. Permanently.”
    They walked slowly in a companionable silence, then Margo said. “It’s not only George. It’s this heat wave—we’re just not used to this kind of weather. Everyone’s on edge.”
    They circled the goldfish pond set in the lawn and admired the roses. Margo was looking thoughtful.
    “Penny for them,” Sammy said.
    “Do you sometimes wonder about Jim?”
    “The Aussie? He seems all right.”
    “I wonder about him. He tells a good story, but doesn’t he lay it on a bit too thick? I wonder if he’s really been outback.”
    “It’s a thought,” Sammy agreed. “But does it matter? Where’s the harm?”
    Val Courtney relaxed in a comfortable chair in the private sitting room upstairs. She sipped at a glass of white wine and Mozart played softly in the background. Her husband, Reggie, sat opposite, cupping a tumbler of whisky.
    It was what they called the quiet hour, before going to bed, when they could forget the day’s cares and unwind. But not tonight.
    Keith Parry paced