Winter at West Sands Guest House: A debut feel-good heart-warming romance perfect for 2018
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 Sarah be coming today?’ Eva asked, desperate to change the subject even if it was to Sarah.
‘Oh, she’ll be here in a minute.’ Helen waved her hand vaguely in the air. ‘She had to take a call for work.’
‘On a Sunday?’
‘She’s in the middle of an important case. I don’t suppose she can switch off just because it’s the weekend.’
Sarah was Eva’s shiny, perfect older sister. After graduating with a law degree, she had moved to Aberdeen to complete her training in the legal department of an oil company. When their father had died, she moved back to Edinburgh, bought a house practically next door to their mother’s, and took a job working for a firm of commercial lawyers. She was always involved in some big case. It wouldn’t surprise her if Sarah didn’t show up today, just like the last two times Eva and Jamie had visited.
With the tea tray now complete, Helen carried it over to Eva and after a brief inspection of the shortbread biscuits, graced her daughter with a fleeting smile.
‘Take this through please, darling,’ she said handing over the tray. Eva did as she was told and headed through to the formal dining room where Helen insisted on serving lunch. Heavy cream and gold curtains framed the French doors, which looked out onto the garden, and a rich brocade tablecloth hung over the polished dark wood table where Eva now placed the tray.
‘Hello, Eva.’
Eva turned to the sound of her sister’s voice. Wearing a crisp white shirt and smart grey trousers and clutching her iPhone, Sarah Devine looked as if she had taken the wrong turning for a business meeting. Beside her, Eva always managed to feel slightly shabby – like the poor relation who had rolled up in skinny jeans and a baggy jumper.
‘Hi, Sarah, how are you?’ Eva smiled, hesitating for a moment before going over for an awkward embrace.
‘Fine. And you?’
‘Oh you know, the usual,’ she replied overbrightly. ‘Jamie should be in any minute. He’s out in the garden.’
‘I’ve seen him. He introduced me to your new dog.’
‘You met Hamish? He’s pretty cute, don’t you think?’
Sarah looked at her and raised an eyebrow. ‘Do you think getting a dog was a good idea?’
Eva felt a pain start to throb in her head. No, it probably wasn’t a good idea, she wanted to scream. But she had done it anyway, for Jamie. Eva wondered if her sister ever made an emotional decision or whether everything in her life was calculated on a spreadsheet.
Eva smiled tightly. ‘Well, Jamie loves him and its fun having a dog around the house.’ Helen suddenly bustled in, carrying more plates, followed by Jamie.
‘Mum! Look what Aunt Sarah got me!’ His face a picture of unadulterated joy, he waved an Xbox game in the air: the exact one Eva had planned on giving him as a special Christmas present. Eva swallowed down a burst of anger at her sister. Sarah hadn’t seen her nephew in months – she probably didn’t even know he had started high school, but in typical style had bought him an expensive present. Couldn’t she just spend some time with him, take him to the cinema or something?
‘That was very generous of her,’ Eva said pointedly.
‘It was nothing.’ Sarah waved her hand casually. Eva took a deep breath and asked Jamie if Hamish was now in the car.
‘Yup. And I washed my hands,’ he replied.
Now they were all seated at the table, Helen beamed at everyone. ‘Isn’t this nice? Tuck in, everyone!’
Jamie’s eyes hungrily scanned the table and Eva saw his face fall. Plates filled with dainty finger food – quartered sandwiches, scones, and biscuits. Neat tidy food, thought Eva, designed not to leave crumbs. Not like the big spilling-over-the-edge pots of food she made at home. Eva watched her mother’s precise delicate movements as she nibbled a sandwich and then glanced over at Sarah who was sipping her tea, barely touching the food.
Eva could swear her mother and sister looked more alike every time she saw them, almost as if they were morphing into the same person, with their neat ice-blonde hair and slender frames. Eva’s wavy darker hair and curvier figure only made her feel more of an outsider than she already did. Only the distinctive green eyes they all shared gave any indication the three women were related. Lost in thought, Eva realized her mother was talking to her.
‘You remember Gail Worthington from my book club?’ Eva didn’t but nodded anyway. ‘Her daughter Sarah is getting married next year. She’s almost forty you know, just goes to show you – it’s never too late!’
‘That’s nice,’ Eva replied blandly, presuming the implication being that at thirty-four she still had loads of time to ‘find someone’.
‘But of course I don’t suppose you’re likely to meet anyone nice in your line of work are you, darling?’ Helen asked doubtfully.
‘I meet lots of nice people. I had a professional golfer stay this summer – he took Jamie for a round of golf.’
‘A professional golfer?’ Helen’s face lit up with interest.
‘Yes, he was lovely. And so was his wife.’ Eva suddenly felt mean, but it always vexed her that her mother seemed intent Eva had to be married off yet somehow it was okay for Sarah to be single, presumably because she had a high-flying career. Of course she felt lonely at times and wished she had someone to