Winter at West Sands Guest House: A debut feel-good heart-warming romance perfect for 2018. Maggie Conway
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. When she’d moved in, the existing rooms were functional but drab. At school the only subject Eva had ever really enjoyed was art and she had discovered a real passion for interiors and decorating. Realizing she had a choice to either pay someone to do the work or learn how to do itself, she chose the latter.
She’d enrolled in a painting and decorating course at a local college for one day a week that fitted in with Jamie’s school hours and after that she’d kept going, learning with books, online courses, and a lot of trial and error. Now she was able to tackle most jobs herself and loved it so much – dreaming up colour combinations or imagining how textures might work in a room and then putting all her ideas into practice – she sometimes thought she’d missed her calling.
She liked to give each room an individual feel but it was also important to keep things fairly neutral and, above all, comfortable. The other two guest rooms wouldn’t be decorated this year, just a thorough clean and a check everything was in working order. She folded the stepladders, propped them against the wall, and clicked off the radio just in time to hear the front door bang shut.
‘Mum?’ Eva felt herself relax at the sound of her son’s voice.
‘Up here! I’ll be down in a sec.’ Wiping her hands on her dungarees Eva headed downstairs, almost being knocked down by Hamish as he hurtled down after her. The reality of having a (literally barking mad) dog was proving to be very different from the one Eva imagined when she had finally given in to Jamie’s constant pleading. Eva could think of a hundred reasons why not to get a dog but Jamie’s single reason – he wanted a dog because he didn’t have a brother or sister – trumped hers. Really, how could she refuse?
Dogs and guests weren’t necessarily an ideal mix but Eva, always on the lookout for new target markets, had an idea and one she hoped would be a sound business move. Her master plan was to become a dog-friendly guest house. With its beautiful beaches and coastal paths, St Andrews was the ideal destination for dog lovers and she could tap into that. She’d have to look into it properly before the start of next season, find out about any legal requirements and change her website and marketing so guests would know she welcomed dogs.
‘You’ll have to train the dog properly and it won’t be allowed in the kitchen,’ she’d said to Jamie for the hundredth time as they had driven to the rescue centre.
‘I promise, Mum,’ he had replied solemnly. Jamie had fallen in love on sight with the mournful eyes of a scruffy brown and white crossbreed staring at him through the bars of a cage. Eva liked that he was small and – according to the lovely lady at the rescue centre – would be easy to train. That had been four weeks ago and so far, easy wasn’t a word Eva would use.
In the hall, Eva ignored the trail of bags, jumpers, and football boots for now. Her eleven-year-old son’s tendency to go into a strop didn’t need any encouragement the minute he walked through the door. She found Jamie in the living room, his blond hair askew and long gangly limbs sprawled on the sofa with Hamish darting about ecstatically to welcome him home. Although Jamie shared Eva’s fair colouring, at times he looked so like Paul it broke her heart and all Eva wanted was to wrap her arms around him the way she had always done. But eleven was an awkward age. Sometimes still her little boy who needed reassurance but also an aspiring adult who didn’t always welcome hugs from his mum.
‘Hi, sweetheart. How was school?’ Eva asked him.
‘Fine,’ he replied using his standard response to most questions these days as he ruffled Hamish’s ears. The days of waiting at the primary school gates with other parents, swapping and verifying information before walking home while Jamie chatted non-stop already felt like a distant memory to Eva. It was early days, she reminded herself. There was so much for him to take in and he was bound to communicate more when he was ready. Overcome with excitement, Hamish suddenly leapt onto the sofa beside Jamie.
‘Off the sofa, Hamish!’ Eva yelled.
‘Mu-um! That’s not the right voice remember? You’re supposed to use a firm but calm voice,’ Jamie said, mimicking Mrs Duffy from puppy training class.
Eva grimaced apologetically. ‘You’re right, I’m sorry.’
Jamie rolled off the sofa, giggling with delight as Hamish jumped on top of him and began slobbering all over his face. ‘Hamish – yeuch!’ he cried.
Eva grinned at them, relishing the moments when getting a dog did actually make sense.
‘So, did you have a good game of football?’ Eva asked.
‘Nah, our team lost,’ Jamie sniffed.
Sports mad like his father had been – Eva always felt a disappointment for not getting excited about penalty shoot-outs or understanding offside. She’d coped with the dinosaur stage, learning the difference between a T Rex and a stegosaurus. She’d actually enjoyed mastering the techniques to build bridges and cars from Lego and she even knew every character from Star Wars. But she had never managed to grasp the intricacies of The Beautiful Game. Of course if Paul was here, they could talk football father to son, the way it should be.
‘I