rel="nofollow" href="#u24f20eaa-382d-53c0-98e2-b1d68999c44b">CHAPTER TWELVE
Winter at West Sands Guest House
Maggie Conway
Head to Scotland and find love this winter!
Eva Harris has her hands full juggling a teenaged son, a disobedient dog, and running her thriving seaside guest house, so really the last thing she needs is to be distracted by her new neighbour, ridiculously handsome but arrogant Ben Matthews.
For one thing, she’s got nothing in common with the man – Ben’s a high-flying lecturer at the town’s university while she barely scraped through high school – for another he’s fresh out of a relationship while Eva hasn’t been on one single date since the death of her husband, seven years ago!
She’s determined to keep her distance, but in a small town like St Andrews that’s easier said than done, and it doesn’t help that everyone, including her son Jamie, thinks Ben is wonderful! Breaking out of her sad but safe little bubble might be the hardest thing she’s ever had to do, but Ben might just be worth the risk …
A huge thank-you to my lovely editor Hannah Smith for her unfailing enthusiasm and expert guidance every step of the way. Also to Helena Newton for her skilful work and to all the team at HQ Digital.
A big thank-you Lynne Morton - for her support, lovely notepads and making sure I exercise. To Jackie Barker for her encouragement and being there since the playgroup days. To Elaine Brydon for providing inspiration even though she had no idea.
To Gordon and Suzanne whose presence the past year has helped so much.
To my sister Fiona for reading, listening and generally being the best sister I could have.
To my children David, Kate and Rachel. You are truly amazing and I am so lucky and proud to be your mum.
And to Martin, you are my everything and none of this would be possible without you.
Dedicated to John Conway, an extraordinary man.
Thank-you, Dad.
Eva Harris wasn’t spying, not exactly. It was more a case of taking a healthy interest in her new neighbours. She’d almost jumped for joy when the removal van had pulled up earlier. During the afternoon she’d taken several breaks from her painting, lingering at the window with mugs of tea, hoping to catch a glimpse of whoever had moved in.
It must have been one of the most efficient removals ever – the van appeared to have come and gone in record time and apart from the removal men Eva hadn’t seen anyone. Even now all was quiet, a sleek black car in the driveway the only evidence anyone had moved in.
Eva hated not having neighbours. She found the silence from next door unsettling. The house – known affectionately as Mac’s place – had lain empty, ever since Moira and Donald MacKenzie had decided to sell up and cruise around the world before moving into a bungalow to accommodate Donald’s arthritis. Tempted as she was to rush round to welcome her new neighbours, she held off. She knew moving day could be hectic and it was probably better to give whoever it was time to settle in.
From where she stood at a bedroom window on her first floor, Eva looked out onto the harbour and beyond that to the expanse of sea. Even now in October, St Andrews was a beautiful place to live. Being close to the university, Eva was used to seeing students coming and going along the cobbled streets. Tonight though, everyone was huddled up against the rain, hurrying to wherever they had to go.
Turning from the window, Eva rested her hands on her hips and admired the silky finish of the duck egg blue wall she had just painted. Listening to the radio as the rain lashed against the window, she’d been happy to be indoors today and even happier that she had managed to paint the whole room despite all her neighbour-spotting activity.
Eva loved running her small guest house and even though visitors came to St Andrews all year round, she closed during the winter months. This gave her time to take care of any maintenance and freshen up the rooms. But more importantly it gave her time to be with her son Jamie and it let them have the house to themselves without guests.
Looking at the time she realized he should be home by now, even allowing for his football after school. She pulled her phone from the back pocket of her dungarees but there were no messages from him. She resisted the urge to phone and check where he was.
Eva was convinced when she gave birth to Jamie a worry bead had been planted in her brain at the same time. Whatever the stage – teething, feeding, learning to read or to cross the road safely – Eva was always capable of imagining the worst-case scenario and only her constant vigilance prevented disaster. Each milestone brought its joys of course but also a new set of anxieties for Eva. Jamie was almost twelve now; the teenage years were looming large and the thought terrified her.
Starting high school had been a big change not just for Jamie but Eva too. With his new routine and all the after-school activities, she knew she had to give him a bit of independence but she’d been holding the reins of motherhood so tightly for so long it was difficult to let go. She wondered if she should phone Heather to see if she’d heard from Fraser. She could bet wherever Fraser was, Jamie would be two steps away.
When Jamie had come home after his first day at primary school and announced he had a new best friend called Fraser, Eva was more than relieved to meet his mum, Heather. Like their sons, their friendship had been instant and enduring. When Eva had admitted to her excessive – bordering neurotic – worrying, Heather had taken it in her stride. To this day Eva had never seen her friend stressed despite having three boisterous sons.
Heather had seen most things at least once and over the years Eva had called upon her expertise several times. When Jamie got his finger stuck in a bottle, kept bringing home bugs, or had decided jumping off furniture was fun, Heather reassured her that was what boys did. The only thing Heather hadn’t managed to bestow on Eva was the ability to relax, at least not without alcohol being involved. Eva loved spending time at her friend’s chaotic home but never knew if it was because of the easy atmosphere or because of her friend’s willingness to produce a bottle of wine at any time for any reason.
No, she wouldn’t phone Heather. She’d only remind her – again – they were lucky living in a small safe community, they’d agreed the boys were old enough to walk home from high school themselves, and they’d be home soon.
Swallowing the familiar tug of anxiety in her stomach, Eva took a deep breath and started tidying up. She placed the lid back on the paint pot, put the brushes in a jar of water, and went over in her head what she still had to do. Tomorrow she could start to put the furniture back in place and then give everything a good clean.
Eva was using a small ceramic seahorse sculpture as her inspiration to give the room a coastal feel. A couple of patterned navy cushions for the armchair and a beautiful driftwood mirror she’d found in a craft shop would provide the finishing touches.
She’d certainly come a long way in the seven years since she’d taken over West Sands guest house.