Winter at West Sands Guest House

by Maggie Conway

  ‘This Wednesday?’ Eva jumped in. ‘I could take you, Mum. What time is it at?’

  Helen shook her head. ‘No it’s fine. Sarah’s taken me before so she knows where to go.’

  Eva bit her lip thinking nothing had changed. Ever since they were little girls Sarah had always sought their mother’s approval. Eva had always been closer to her father, preferring to stay with him pottering in the garden or helping him do little jobs while Helen and Sarah favoured shopping.

  With most of the food finished thanks to Jamie and Eva, Helen turned her attention to Jamie again.

  ‘Now, Jamie, come and spend some time with me before your mum whisks you away again.’ The remark wasn’t lost on Eva, managing to make it sound as if she never saw him even though she visited as often as possible and was constantly inviting her to visit.

  Jamie dutifully followed Helen out of the room, throwing Eva an accusing look as he went. She ruffled his hair as he passed and started to collect plates from the table, glancing over to see Sarah’s manicured fingers tapping furiously away. Eva assumed it was business but then what did she know? Maybe she was arranging a romantic rendezvous with a secret lover. She knew so little about her sister’s life these days.

  How and when it had got to this stage she didn’t know. Their personalities had always been different but once they had been close. Eva remembered the two giggling girls hiding behind the curtains waiting for their dad to come home. Or the teenagers sitting up late into the night discussing what boys they fancied at school. Everything changed after their dad’s heart attack. Instead of bringing them closer, it had seemed to tear them apart.

  Sarah showed no signs of helping to clear the table and Eva felt a rush of anger.

  ‘Surely it can wait, whatever it is?’ she snapped. Sarah jumped slightly and looked up. Eva could see slight shadows beneath her sister’s expensive make-up and immediately felt guilty.

  ‘Is everything all right?’ she asked her.

  ‘Yes, why shouldn’t it be?’

  ‘No reason. I just thought you looked tired.’

  ‘Well that’s what happens when you work a fifty-hour week,’ Sarah replied sarcastically. Eva took a deep breath, willing herself to stay calm. Eva knew very well what it was like, but of course Sarah would never acknowledge that.

  ‘Maybe you could take a break after this case,’ Eva suggested.

  ‘Maybe,’ she sniffed. ‘It will depend on my work schedule and I can’t just leave Mum.’

  ‘Why not?’ Eva asked surprised.

  ‘She’s not getting any younger you know.’

  ‘She looks fine to me. More than fine, in fact. Is there a problem I don’t know about?’

  ‘No,’ Sarah replied defensively. ‘She just needs to know I’m here, that’s all. I can’t just take off.’

  ‘But I’m here for her too! I’m only an hour away and she could come and stay with me if she wanted.’ Eva had lost count of the times she had invited her mother to come to St Andrews. She glared at Sarah and then shook her head in despair. Balancing a pile of plates in her arms she carried them through to the kitchen, not trusting herself to speak.

  She plonked the dishes down and began to stack the dishwasher. She took a few calming breaths, suddenly overwhelmed with sadness. She couldn’t bear the thought of her and Sarah spending the next few years fighting like this every time they met until eventually they wouldn’t bother to see each other at all. Maybe if they could see each other in different circumstances and relax, they would have a chance to fix whatever it was that was broken between them.

  She thought of Jamie’s trip in a couple of weeks. Deep down she knew she’d have to agree to let him go. Until she actually told him though, she felt she still had some control. Once he knew he was going there would be no turning back. She couldn’t even imagine what she would do with herself that weekend. Before she could change her mind, she went back to the dining room.

  ‘I was thinking, Sarah – Jamie’s got a trip coming up at the end of November – one of those activity weekends for kids. There’s rock climbing, abseiling … that type of thing. I’m a bit nervous about it to be honest, the thought of him doing all those things.’ Eva forced a little laugh, not feeling natural to be confiding in her sister.

  ‘Anyway, why don’t you come up to St Andrews that weekend? There are some great restaurants. We could go for a few walks, maybe open a few bottles of wine. I think there’s even a winter market on that weekend.’

  Sarah looked at her blankly. ‘Sorry, what? Oh no, I’ll be busy that weekend.’

  ‘But I didn’t even say which – you know, it doesn’t matter.’ Eva felt her shoulders slump, suddenly deflated. She gathered the linen napkins from the table, absently admiring the orchid design on them.

  ‘I’d better go and find Jamie and Mum,’ she muttered, not waiting to hear if Sarah replied. In the gleaming new kitchen Eva stood helplessly for a moment. She wished she didn’t have to leave feeling this way. She told herself she’d be home soon, home to her sanctuary. But even that didn’t feel the same any more without the MacKenzies being there. A sudden image of Ben Matthews came into her head and she found herself wondering how he was spending his Sunday.

  ***

  Ben had woken late on Sunday, surprised he had slept for so long. In the kitchen he looked out of the window at the inky grey sky and wondered if it rained here every day. Realizing he was hungry he took eggs from the fridge, deciding to make an omelette. After he had eaten maybe he would go for a walk, explore the town some more. He could buy a paper and come back and read it at leisure.

  It still felt odd having Sundays free. Every Sunday for the past five years he had visited his mother at Cartvale care home. He tried but usually failed to fit in a midweek visit too if work allowed. But he would always spend the whole Sunday with her no matter what. If she was having a good day, they’d walk in the local park or perhaps even have lunch somewhere.

  In some ways, Ben had started to grieve for his mother years before she actually died. The strong woman who had brought him up alone after his father had died started to disappear long before her diagnosis of early onset Alzheimer’s. Yet even now at odd moments like this, the grief and guilt could creep up on him, its severity taking him by surprise. He took a deep breath, sloshing hot water over the coffee granules in a mug, determined not to go there.

  In the dining room – now Ben’s makeshift office – he cleared a space on the table for his plate and ate hungrily. He flicked through a few of the papers and books in front of him, his mound of reading to catch up on. His meeting at the university had gone well on Friday. Meeting up with Professor Drummond had felt like reclaiming something valuable from his old life.

  A slightly eccentric Scot, he had guided Ben through his PhD at Oxford University with patience, wisdom, and more than the odd dram of whisky. Ben had respected him so much and always felt he had let him down in some way, turning his back on research and going to work as an analyst in the city.

  But the Professor had never passed judgement and had understood Ben’s need to earn the type of money you couldn’t earn in academia. Ben hadn’t been surprised when he discovered his old Professor was now at St Andrews, the oldest university in Scotland. An image of him came to Ben’s mind, sitting by a roaring fire with a tumbler in hand. But Ben knew his Professor’s easy charm was matched by his ferocious intelligence. He was still at the forefront of research into gravitational waves. Ben had read his recently published paper, and knew he wanted to be part of it again.

  He had responded to Ben’s email with all the enthusiasm Ben remembered. They both knew it wasn’t an obvious or easy option to return to academia from the world of finance but in typical style Professor Drummond had seen it as a positive, not a negative. ‘Be good to get some fresh blood into the place, a new perspective. Things can get a bit stuffy in academia.’

  After several exchanged emails, Ben had a formal interview via Skype with the Professor and two of his colleagu
es in the department. He had been questioned in detail about his plans for research – and more importantly, what funding he would obtain. He had listed the grants he could apply for, what journals he would publish in. Ben had studied the curriculum and courses on offer for students and expressed his willingness to be flexible, happy to fit in with the department’s teaching requirements but also had some ideas of his own about teaching.

  When the Professor had phoned offering him a position, Ben felt exhilarated. The realization that he wasn’t going back to working in the city came as a relief but he didn’t underestimate what lay ahead of him. Ben and Professor Drummond had chatted as they walked around the university grounds, Ben admiring the ivy-clad buildings and absorbing the buzz of students milling around. He had been shown around the department and introduced to a few people.

  They’d agreed Ben would start with a few hours’ teaching next week before going full-time the following week. Until then Ben would take some time to acclimatize to his new surroundings. Finishing his breakfast Ben stood up, leaving the dishes on the table. He’d start with a walk on the beach.

  Chapter Four

  Eva was nursing a cup of tea. She stared at her phone, an air of gloom still hanging over her after seeing her mum and sister yesterday. The day was chilly and damp and she pulled her cardigan tightly around her. Thinking back to the strained atmosphere between her and Sarah, she debated with herself whether to text her or not.

  She let out a deep sigh. It was ridiculous to feel so unsure about contacting her own sister. Maybe she should just forget the whole thing, pretend everything was fine until the next time. But deep down it pained her. She wanted at least to be on civil terms with Sarah.

  Memories of her father had also been haunting her, as was often the case after being in her old home – almost as if her grief had been renewed in some way. It wasn’t just the physical pain of missing him, the horrible gaping hole he’d left in her life. It was her disappointment and frustration that he’d never see what she had achieved.

  Eva gave herself a little shake. All this indecisiveness was no good. Before she could regret it, she tapped out a message to Sarah repeating her offer to stay for a weekend and pressed send. Eva startled as Hamish suddenly let out a bark at the sound of the doorbell ringing.

  Seeing Greg Ritchie standing on her doorstep wasn’t the most welcome sight but Eva summoned a smile. ‘Hello, Greg.’

  ‘Eva, hi. How are you?’ He flashed a dazzling smile.

  ‘I’m very well, thanks. And you?’

  ‘Good, good. Could I have a minute of your time?’ Eva widened the door holding on to Hamish’s collar and allowing Greg to pass. She suppressed a little shudder as he stepped in. Something about Greg Ritchie’s practised smooth manner always made her feel uneasy. He had certainly found a look and stuck with it, she thought, acknowledging his customary well-cut suit, polished shoes, and slicked-back hair.

  The owner of one of the largest hotels in St Andrews, he had been one of the first people to introduce himself to Eva, offering to ‘show her the ropes’. He had insisted she accompany him to a networking event. ‘It’s important to keep in touch with other businesspeople – share ideas and give support,’ he’d told her.

  Leaving Jamie with Moira next door, Eva had dressed in the plain black dress she had worn for Paul’s funeral, the only thing she had remotely suitable for such an event. Waiting for Greg to collect her, she had felt nervous and like a fraud. She wasn’t a proper businesswoman; at least she didn’t feel like one then. She was a widow who had bought a huge house and was feeling totally out of her depth. She’d spent most of the evening standing nervously in the corner and couldn’t help admire the way Greg worked the room, shaking hands and chatting easily to people.

  He seemed to know all the jargon and buzzwords, which sounded like a foreign language to Eva. It had been terrifying making conversation with strangers but somehow she’d got through it, leaving with a handful of business cards and knowing a few new faces.

  Since then, there’d been a host of things for Eva to get to grips with. Finding the right suppliers, registering with the tourist board, getting to grips with marketing and running a website. Every now and again, Greg descended upon her with these little visits for no particular reason Eva could fathom. She was pretty sure – at least she hoped – Greg’s motives were well intentioned but she had instinctively kept her distance from him.

  Clearly he was an astute businessman and a serious networker but his reputation with women wasn’t something Eva wanted to experience first-hand. He was certainly handsome in an obvious way and from what she’d heard there was no shortage of women who appreciated his particular brand of charm.

  But he was way too smooth for Eva – there was a fine line between charm and smarm. Like his five-star hotel, everything about him was a little too polished and posed for Eva’s taste – his silky smile always at the ready. A snapshot of the one and only smile she’d seen from Ben Matthews popped into her head – where on earth had that come from?

  Giving herself a little shake Eva followed Greg into the hall where he was looking around with an appraising air. Eva had the sudden image of a big over-friendly dog coming to mark his territory in some way.

  ‘Can I get you something, Greg? A drink?’ she asked.

  ‘No time thanks,’ he replied. His eyes flicked to his smartphone as though something vitally important could come through any second and Eva thought he might get on well with Sarah.

  ‘You know there’s a big conference at the university in a couple of weeks?’

  ‘Sure,’ Eva lied. One of the benefits of not opening in winter was not having to be up to speed with every event in the town.

  ‘Six hundred delegates arriving for two nights – obviously we’re fully booked. But I’ve experienced a few er, technical issues with our new booking system leaving me with two guests and no rooms to offer them. I’d like to be able to tell them I’ve made arrangements for alternative accommodation.’ He gave her a silky smile. ‘And of course, I thought of you. I know you close in winter but I was hoping I could rely on you to take two guests for a couple of nights?’

  For some reason the thought of his slick operation not running smoothly made Eva want to giggle but she knew she would agree. It wasn’t just that she wanted to help – of course she did. Nor was it for the extra income even though it would be welcome. If she was honest, she jumped at the chance of having something to do. Jamie’s longer days at school left her with more time on her hands and, alarmingly, she was discovering the joys of daytime television. The theme music to Bargain Hunt was beginning to sound oddly comforting and Eva didn’t think that was a good thing.

  ‘Of course, that won’t be a problem. Would you like me to contact them directly?’

  He nodded in confirmation. ‘I’ll let them know we’ve got accommodation and I’ll email you with their details. That all right with you?’

  ‘Sure, that’s fine with me.’ With that sorted Greg looked about with an approving air.

  ‘So, your place is looking good, Eva,’ he commented.

  ‘Er, thanks.’

  ‘You have a good summer season?’

  ‘Really good, yes.’

  ‘Still suits you to close in winter?’ He raised a quizzical eyebrow.

  ‘Um, yes –’ Greg pounced on her split-second hesitation.

  ‘So you would consider opening all year?’

  ‘That’s not what I –’

  ‘There’s plenty of business out there you know,’ he interrupted. ‘Lots of people choosing staycations. Scotland is a top destination – St Andrews is thriving. In the next couple of months alone there’s jazz, poetry, and film festivals … hundreds of visitors all looking for a nice place to stay.’ He was pacing up and down now, getting into his stride, his pungent aftershave wafting about after him.

  ‘Well, it’s not really –’ Eva began.

  ‘Have you ever thought about expanding?’

  ‘Expand
ing?’ Eva blinked.

  ‘You could get a drinks licence, serve food, open all year round … There’s a lot of potential here. For example, what special offers do you run?’

  ‘Depending on how busy it is, I sometimes offer three for two nights.’ He seemed to dismiss that with a wave of his hand.

  ‘You could do much more. St Andrew’s day is coming up, Burns night – all good for winter trade. Some guest houses tie in with the golf courses – offer three nights with three rounds of golf, that type of thing.’

  Eva nodded her head, making interested but non-committal noises.

  ‘If it’s the financial side of things you’re concerned about, I’d be more than happy to discuss investment opportunities. Perhaps we could discuss it over dinner one night?’

  Eva rubbed her temple feeling like she’d stepped on a runaway train and needed to figure out how to stop it. She straightened her shoulders and mustered her firmest voice. ‘It’s really not something I’m thinking about at the moment, Greg. But thanks anyway.’ She took a step towards the front door indicating for him to follow.

  ‘No need to make any decisions just now. Have a think about it.’ He patted her arm, gracing her with a final smile as he left.

  Eva felt odd after she’d shown Greg out. He hadn’t told her anything she didn’t already know but his words rattled about uncomfortably in her head. Recently, some part of her brain – the part that knew it would make financial sense as well as fill her days – had been mulling over the possibility of opening in winter. But another part of her brain simply refused to contemplate the change. Did she really want guests in her house the whole year round? But one thing she was sure of, whatever happened she certainly wouldn’t be discussing anything with Greg Ritchie and becoming one of his pet projects or anything else for that matter.

  Returning to the kitchen she reached for her laptop, wincing as she took a mouthful of now cold tea. Once she received the guests’ details from Greg she’d send emails confirming their reservations. She clicked on the university website and found the conference Greg had mentioned: a major event with delegates arriving from all over the world. She scanned through the information, reading out loud as she scrolled down. ‘International Science Conference … bringing together leading scientists … guest speakers … workshops, coffee breaks, evening receptions …’