Winter at West Sands Guest House: A debut feel-good heart-warming romance perfect for 2018. Maggie Conway

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СКАЧАТЬ or taken away. Dishes, towels, curtains were all coordinated and a crystal cut vase filled with roses always sat on the hall table.

      In the kitchen Helen shared the delights of her new Arlington Cream kitchen. Eva trailed after her making appreciative noises as she was shown the joys of the panelled doors, glazed units, and integrated appliances. ‘It creates such a beautiful streamline effect, don’t you think?’ Her mother’s eyes sparkled as she looked around at her new kitchen, letting out a contented sigh. She seemed inordinately pleased with herself. In fact, she was looking very well, thought Eva. Narrowing her eyes, she peered closely at her wondering if she had succumbed to a little makeover of her own. There was a definite glow about her.

      ‘It’s lovely, Mum,’ Eva said, genuinely happy for her. Appearances and status meant everything to Helen. Brian Devine’s job as a financial manager had provided his wife with a lifestyle she had taken to very easily and his subsequent life insurance policy had ensured she could keep living it.

      Eva walked over to the window and looked out to the garden, thinking how much she still missed her father. A massive heart attack had taken his life and thrown his family’s into turmoil. Eva had been working in an insurance office at the time having recently been trusted with the added responsibility of answering the phone as well as doing the filing.

      She knew there had to be something more out there, but just hadn’t figured out what. As her mother was fond of pointing out, there weren’t many opportunities for someone who had left school with not much to show for it. Still, the job gave her enough money to go out with her friends at weekends and buy clothes.

      She had met Paul, a ski instructor, the year before on holiday in France. He was handsome, charming, and free-spirited. Eva had a major crush on him, as did most of the girls. She could hardly believe it when he showed interest in her and had been happily swept away by their brief holiday romance. Afterwards, they had kept in touch with the odd phone call or Facebook message.

      It had been his idea for Eva to join him in France after her father’s death and it hadn’t taken much to persuade her. It didn’t obviate her pain but it was certainly an effective distraction. Sharing a cramped flat and waitressing long exhausting hours, Eva loved every minute. She relished the freedom and for the first time in her life felt she was having an adventure.

      Of course getting pregnant wasn’t supposed to be part of the adventure. Suddenly the carefree life she’d been enjoying came crashing down around her – the heady excitement and freedom that had drawn them together becoming something much more real and serious. Paul surprised her by insisting they marry before the baby was born. Marriage was a practical solution to the unplanned turn of events but Eva didn’t know if that was enough to base a marriage on. However, she brushed aside her fears knowing it was the right thing to do and it certainly helped to take away some of the terror of being pregnant and having to face her mother.

      Her poor mother had barely recovered from Eva going off with Paul in the first place but then had to contend with her youngest daughter returning home three months pregnant to marry in a registry office. Eva nervously clutched her small bouquet of creamy white roses during the short ceremony and afterwards their small party had made their way to a rooftop restaurant where they sat with bowls of steaming mussels overlooking Edinburgh Castle. Eva told herself it was romantic but didn’t think her mother would agree judging by her strained expression.

      They moved to the highlands where Paul got a job in the Cairngorms ski resort and lived there until the accident. She hadn’t expected things to happen the way they did, but Eva never regretted for a single moment having Jamie in her life.

      Staring out of the window Eva could now see him now running around on the neatly clipped lawn with Hamish. The loss of her father and husband had been bad enough but it was Jamie never knowing his grandfather and losing his father that hurt the most. Eva supposed focusing on Jamie had helped her cope with her own grief for Paul and enabled her to move on with her life. Her grief for her father had been harder to deal with – he had been the person she’d looked up to her whole life. He had always been there for her and his absence from her life was still painful. Eva knew if her kind and loving father was still here things would be different somehow and these visits would certainly be easier to deal with.

      She closed her eyes and imagined him outside now playing with Jamie. He’d be older obviously, probably retired. His hair would be silver grey but his blue eyes would still be bright and crinkly when he smiled. She could almost hear him laughing as Jamie kicked the ball to him.

      Eva inhaled deeply and opened her eyes, surprised to feel tears. She blinked them away just in time to see Hamish happily trampling through a flowerbed and Jamie chasing after him. Eva grimaced, not sure if a crazy dog constituted a suitable male role model for her son. She turned quickly from the window, and pointed to the wall opposite hoping her mother wouldn’t notice the damage being inflicted on her garden by Hamish. ‘So what are you going to do with this wall?’ she asked, moving from the window. Helen looked up from the plate of cocktail-size sausage rolls she was arranging.

      ‘Oh, I need to choose tiles. I’m thinking green or red, something to add a splash of colour.’ She smiled, gliding and swooping between her new work surfaces like a graceful ballerina.

      ‘You know, Mum, I could do the tiling for you,’ Eva said running her hand over the bare wall.

      ‘Don’t be silly, darling. I’ve got a man coming next week to do it,’ Helen replied briskly. Not for the first time Eva wondered if her own determination to master house maintenance skills was a rebound from her mother’s inability to change a light bulb without calling in a man. Helen had resumed her preparations for Sunday lunch and turned her attention to making tea.

      ‘What can I do to help?’ asked Eva.

      ‘Could you find a plate for these please?’ her mother replied nodding towards a tray of freshly baked shortbread fingers sitting on the worktop. Eva started opening the cupboard doors, discovering things had been moved around.

      ‘And how is … business?’ she heard Helen ask. Hearing the disdain in her mother’s voice never failed to amaze Eva, as if her daughter choosing to run a guest house offended her sensibilities in some way. She had long given up on the hope that her mother might show any real interest or pride in what Eva had achieved. There was no point in telling her that she had just finished her best season ever, that she already had repeat bookings for next year.

      ‘Business is fine,’ she said simply. Finally locating a serving plate Eva arranged the biscuits while Helen spooned tea leaves into a china teapot.

      ‘It’s such an odd way to make a living though. Having strangers in your house.’

      ‘Mum, it’s St Andrews. They’re all respectable paying guests, not exactly strangers.’ They’d had this conversation, or one similar to it, several times over the past few years but that didn’t make it any less painful.

      ‘But all those people traipsing about your home treating you like some sort of glorified maid,’ she continued, giving a little shudder to emphasize her point.

      Eva would never deny it was hard work. Guests coming and going, the constant cleaning, laundry and cooking breakfasts. It involved a lot of planning, time, and energy. But living in a big house in a beautiful part of Scotland, running a business that let her be with her son, Eva knew she had much to be thankful for.

      Her mother poured milk into a pretty china jug and sighed. ‘I just thought you’d have had enough of it by now.’ Eva managed to suppress a sigh of her own, thinking nothing had changed since she had moved to St Andrews after Paul had died.

      ‘Will СКАЧАТЬ