LITMIR.BIZ

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a streaming cold and Eva could have quite easily dissolved into a pool of tears herself. Suddenly it all seemed such a grown-up thing to do, move into a big house and be responsible for it all, not something a twenty-six-year-old widow with a young child could do.

      After her husband Paul had died, everyone seemed to have an opinion as to what Eva should now do with her life, not least her mother. Although she had been visibly upset at Paul’s funeral – he was impossible not to like – Eva had sensed a quiet sense of satisfaction from her that it had all gone wrong just as she’d predicted.

      She had wasted no time in seizing her chance. ‘Come home, darling. Let me look after you.’ Which in Helen Devine’s language translated to ‘let me take over your life again’. The way she had when Eva lived at home. Sometimes it had felt as if her mother had controlled Eva’s whole life. Suggesting suitable friends, the right clothes to wear, or where to go on holiday.

      From the depths of her despair Eva managed to look up just enough to see her mother’s clutches coming towards her and knew she had to act quickly. Her priority was finding somewhere she and Jamie could feel safe and rebuild their lives together. But she also had to think of a way of supporting them in the future.

      Randomly searching the internet for property, she stumbled on one for sale in St Andrews already being run as a guest house. Eva remembered one of her favourite childhood games of playing hotels and felt something stir within her. Could she turn that fantasy from all those years ago into a reality? A business that would let her be self-sufficient and be there for her young son – it sounded perfect.

      The money from Paul’s life insurance meant she was able to put in an offer and when it was accepted, Eva was elated and horrified all at the same time. Helen’s reaction to her daughter’s idea had been less idealistic. ‘Do you like plunging toilets and cleaning carpet stains?’ she had asked. With her mother’s caustic words ringing in her head, Eva stood in the hall that first day trying to comfort Jamie, terrified she had made a huge mistake. Overwhelmed and exhausted, Eva had a sudden desire to crawl into a warm bed and sleep for a week.

      And then out of that dark moment, Moira MacKenzie appeared at the door like a beacon of light, bringing hope – and a pot of home-made soup – to Eva. Wearing layers of bright clothes, her copper-red hair piled haphazardly on top of her head and bangles jangling at her wrists, something about her presence immediately put Eva at ease.

      She’d felt guilty for doing it, but it was impossible not to compare Moira to her own mother. Of course Eva knew her mother loved her. But it was a neatly wrapped kind of love that came with air kisses. She wasn’t the type of woman who made you want to lose yourself in a big-bosomed hug the way Moira MacKenzie did.

      Moira and her husband Donald were both retired academics and ran a second-hand bookshop in St Andrews. The two women chatted comfortably as Moira helped Eva to unpack and settle Jamie into his new room. Eva wasn’t sure if they would have made it through those first few days without her and had counted her lucky stars a thousand times over the years that the MacKenzies were her neighbours. Kind, caring, and just a tiny bit eccentric. Eva loved them. Although their own children had grown and left, their house was always full of grandchildren and friends coming and going.

      Eva’s heart sank the day Moira told her the house had been sold. A few weeks later Eva tearfully waved them off, happy for them but secretly wishing things didn’t have to change. The house had lain empty for a few weeks and it had been difficult to see it sitting silently. It was only then Eva realized just how much she had depended on the MacKenzies’ presence next door. How since they had left, a sense of loneliness seemed to have engulfed her.

      ***

      What kind of an idiot buys a house without seeing it first? An idiot like me, thought Ben Matthews knocking back a couple of painkillers with a mouthful of coffee. Leaning against the window he looked out at the view from his new front living room. In the distance he could see the swell of the dark sea. He ran his hand through his hair, realizing this was going to take some getting used to. The world felt quiet here, so different from the constant noise and buzz of the city.

      He had left London ridiculously early this morning. The journey had been long and hard; only the thought of the removal van a couple of hours behind had spurred him on. He had finally arrived in St Andrews in the early afternoon and headed straight to the solicitor’s office where he’d dealt with a barrage of legal documentation and polite questions as quickly as possible. Armed with keys and directions to his new home he drove through the town, only stopping to grab a few groceries. From what he could see, the cobbled streets and historic architecture looked charming and quaint and, more importantly, as different from London as he had hoped.

      He found the house easily enough: the last property in a row of impressive Victorian houses facing the beach. He’d climbed out of the car, rolling the tension out of his shoulders as he took in his new surroundings. The house itself sat well back from the road, the front lawn flanked by a gravelled driveway on one side and overgrown flowerbeds on the other.

      He glanced over at the neighbouring house – similar to his except for the ivy cascading down the soft red brick of its front wall and spilling over a blue front door. To the other side of the house there was nothing to see except the sweep of sand and sea stretching into the distance. After unloading the car, he’d let himself in, dumped his suitcases in the hall, and waited for the delivery van.

      By anyone’s standards it must seem mad that the day he moved into his new house was the first time he’d actually stepped into it. But he had left it all to Samantha. It had been she who had flown up to Scotland to view the house while Ben stayed to close his last big deal.

      Telling Samantha he wanted to leave London and return to teaching, he hadn’t been sure how she would react. She was a city girl through and through but she seemed to go for it, shared his vision for a new life. She appeared genuinely excited by Ben’s job offer at the University of St Andrews, providing the obligatory bottle of something expensive to celebrate.

      Ben thought they might rent somewhere first but Samantha had insisted on viewing an amazing house she’d seen online located right on the beachfront. Houses weren’t really his thing but Ben had happily looked at the photos and listened to her plans for the house, including turning one of the rooms into her office where she planned to set up and run an IT consultancy.

      Turning from the window he shook his head and smiled wryly to himself. She had been right of course. It was a beautiful house, an estate agent’s dream to sell with its original fireplaces, cornice ceilings, and large bay windows overlooking the sea. A stunning house but clearly not enough for Samantha. Not enough for her to be able to decline the promotion offered to her by the company she worked for just weeks before they were set to move. Their expansion into East Asia provided her with an opportunity simply ‘too good to turn down’.

      Ben wondered if she’d just got cold feet about them, about the whole move. She didn’t ask him to stay and he hadn’t offered to. Money wasn’t an issue and the sale of the house was in his name anyway so all he had to do was come alone. A strange almost unspoken ending of whatever it was they had. What did that say about their relationship?

      He took the last mouthful of the coffee, thankful he’d had the sense to mark a box with kitchen stuff so at least he had been able to find the kettle and cups. Apart from that, he didn’t know where anything was and wasn’t sure he’d have the energy to unpack anything tonight, let alone try and find the bedding. His stomach suddenly rumbled in protest at the measly sandwich he’d eaten earlier on the motorway and a sudden chill crept over him. It was all meant to be so different. To think he’d actually imagined the possibility of a family one day, but now the empty rooms only served to remind him how alone he was.

      He walked into the large hall where most of the boxes sat untouched. He hadn’t brought much. He’d made a decision only to bring what was important and there had been surprisingly little to pack. His books, some photos, and a few essential pieces of furniture. He had left London after all those years and realized he didn’t have much to bring at all.

      ***

      Eva decided she couldn’t wait. She simply had

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