LITMIR.BIZ

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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 …’

      The itinerary looked full so it was unlikely her guests would be lingering at the guest house. Even so, she would make them feel as comfortable as possible. It wasn’t for another couple of weeks but Eva was happy to have something to focus on and decided to give the bedrooms a quick tour of inspection.

      Opening the door to the newly decorated coastal-theme bedroom, Eva was pleased with the final result. She just had the bedding to choose and she took a mental note to add some fresh flowers before the guests arrived. She moved across the hallway to the bedroom at the back of the house, which overlooked the garden. Here, Eva had taken her inspiration from the time she’d lived in the highlands. The walls were painted pale green and a reupholstered tartan armchair – one of her finds in a second-hand shop – sat by the fireplace. A few pots with sprigs of purple heather and a painting of the Cairngorm mountains completed the room that American tourists loved.

      Eva headed back downstairs noticing the post had been delivered. She smiled when she saw the postcard on the doormat, already knowing it was from Moira and Donald. Eva wondered where they were now as she bent down to pick it up. She found something charming and old-fashioned about Moira going to the effort of writing and sending postcards. She liked to imagine her with her usual gin and tonic, sitting down to write while looking out on some glorious ocean view.

      They were having the time of their lives by the sound of it. Moira wrote about the places they’d visited, describing the rugged beauty of New Zealand’s mountains and seeing the bubbling hot springs in Japan. Now they were sailing to Hong Kong.

      Seeing the familiar handwriting Eva felt a pang of regret that she wasn’t able to pop next door and have a chat. She sighed, wondering if she would ever travel like that. She and Jamie had never had a proper holiday. During summer Eva couldn’t leave the business and at other times Jamie was at school. It wasn’t just the lack of time; it was also the money. After day-to-day living, most of the profit Eva made went back into the guest house to keep it in tip-top shape. Customers’ ability to browse, choose, and review online meant Eva had to compete with the best to keep securing business.

      After reading the postcard, she pinned it to the fridge in the kitchen along with the others. Deciding to make fresh tea, she filled the kettle and leaned against the worktop for a moment. The kitchen, a large bright space, was the hub of her home and Eva’s favourite place in the house. One end of the kitchen was taken up by stainless steel appliances and was organized in accordance with various health and safety regulations for food preparation.

      At the other end Eva had created a homely, cosy space for her and Jamie, which was dominated by a wooden table. A small French dresser stood in one corner crammed with recipe books, ceramic pots, and dried flowers in bright vases. Drawings from Jamie’s nursery days were pinned to the wall alongside various photographs.

      Waiting for the kettle to boil, Eva checked the large cupboard outside the kitchen where she kept all her supplies. The top shelf was packed with toiletries for the guest rooms and the bottom shelves were stacked with clean linen and towels. Feeling suddenly restless, Eva wanted to get on with something. Tea forgotten, she decided to make a start on the en suites and reached for a pile of white fluffy towels.

      As she passed Hamish sleeping off their earlier walk, he opened one eye and looked up at her. Mrs Duffy was lovely but Eva wished there was some way of speeding up the training process. She chuckled to herself, thinking there should be some kind of doggy boot camp for disobedient dogs. ‘What am I going to do with you when the guests are here?’ she asked Hamish. But his only response was to thump his tail lazily on the floor before closing his eyes again. Clearly he wasn’t too concerned with such matters.

      ***

      Ben walked home pleased his first few days at the university had gone well and in particular the first lecture he’d given this morning. Standing in the lecture theatre in front of a hundred students had been both terrifying and exhilarating. After introducing himself, his nerves had settled and he’d got into his stride, hopefully giving his students a better understanding of Newton’s Laws of Motion. He took it as a good sign when students’ hands shot up at the end to ask questions. He’d then spent an hour with two first-year students going over an advanced mathematics topic and was rewarded by seeing realization dawn on their faces as they started to understand three-dimensional integrals.

      His work at the university might be going well but he couldn’t say the same for his new house. With each day that passed, the sense that he was neglecting it grew. So much about the house was perfect but in the cold day of light he could see the cracks showing, quite literally. Only this morning he’d noticed where rainwater had seeped in through his bedroom window.

      As he unlocked the front door he tried to shake the feeling he was an imposter letting himself into someone else’s house. Ben stood still for a moment in the hall, sensing something wasn’t right. Following a faint sound through to the front living room, he looked up to see a small ominous bulge surrounded by an ugly brown stain protruding from a corner of the ceiling. A slow steady drip of water fell onto the carpet.

      He swore under his breath. Just what he needed. A leak – but what the hell should he do? He knew enough to find the stopcock under the kitchen sink and turn off the water. He looked around helplessly for something to catch the water. In his London flat he’d make one phone call to his landlord and it would all be sorted. But things were different here.

      He managed to find a pan and grabbed it to place it under the drip, wondering what to do next. The thought of starting to phone around random engineers wasn’t appealing. His mind turned to Eva, remembering she had the name of someone – what choice did he have?

      Moments later he knocked on Eva’s shiny blue front door and as he waited for her to answer he looked properly at her house for the first time. In comparison to his more formal front garden, hers was rambling and full of colour. Fragrant purple lavender and flowering shrubs lined the path and pots filled with small creamy flowers stood either side of the front door.

      Eva opened the

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