Summer at West Sands Guest House
MAGGIE CONWAY

HQ

An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd.

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2018

Copyright © Maggie Conway 2018

Maggie Conway asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

E-book Edition © July 2018 ISBN: 9780008296568

Version: 2018-07-09

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

Coming soon…

About the Author

Also by Maggie Conway

About the Publisher

Chapter One

Molly Adams peered into the bottom of the laundry basket. The few items of clothing barely warranted a whole wash cycle but she reached down and bundled them into the machine anyway. She didn’t want anything lying about tomorrow, least of all her dirty washing.

A surprising array of internet recipes and supermarket meals for one had taken care of her eating but laundry for one had taken her by surprise, an unexpected consequence of her husband leaving her.

Standing in the small utility room, she let out a sigh. With its integrated appliances and fitted shelves, she’d always quite liked the warmth and cocoon-like feel of the small space and she stood for a few moments almost reluctant to move. The silence of the house was driving her mad and even the gurgling and slurping of the washing machine was welcome.

Funny, it had been the laundry basket – or at least its contents – that had first alerted her. She could still recall the moment her insides had shifted uneasily as the unfamiliar scent wafting from her husband’s shirt assaulted her senses. She had placed the shirt in the washing machine, setting the dial to the highest temperature – totally unsuitable for the luxury two-ply fabric Colin favoured. Part of her had hoped the shirt might disintegrate in the wash. Perhaps if she destroyed the evidence, they could carry on as normal. Except deep down, she had known normal wasn’t good. She had noticed a brightness in her husband’s eyes, a spring in his step that she knew wasn’t of her making.

She hadn’t confronted him immediately, hadn’t been in a particular hurry to have the conversation that might end their five-year marriage. Because although she had wondered about the state of their marriage for some time, she certainly hadn’t expected her husband’s infidelity to bring it to an ignominious end. She needed to live with the notion that her husband was having an affair, to bolster herself for what she knew was surely to come. She thought she should be rallying herself to put up a fight to save their marriage, except she wasn’t sure exactly what she would be fighting for.

She had tried to pinpoint the moment their lives seemed to have veered in different directions. Molly had known Colin was driven but it wasn’t until after they were married that she realised just how ambitious he really was. It seemed with every step he took up the corporate ladder he also took a step further away from her.

Molly supposed she’d always been more of a dreamer, not just in her career but in life generally. She liked to view the future as an unknown quantity, new things to discover, surprises still to come. Colin on the other hand was a planner and liked to look ahead – preferably with a spreadsheet involved. She began to feel caught in his tailwind, always trying to keep up with him.

A year ago, Molly had been made redundant at the same time Colin had gained a big promotion in the financial company where he worked. She was proud of his success and he was sympathetic for her loss but instead of pulling them closer, it had the opposite effect. While his career soared, Molly’s had stalled and she’d taken a temporary position covering maternity leave. Colin clearly wasn’t impressed with her temping status; Molly suspected it annoyed him that she wasn’t following a clear career path.

At school Molly had been undecided about her future, shuffling along to the careers teacher admitting she didn’t have a clue what she wanted to do. Somehow between them, they’d conjured up marketing and so after school she started her degree.

In her first year at university, Molly had met Declan, an effortlessly cool and impossibly good-looking arts student from Galway who told Molly her wild red hair and emerald green eyes reminded him of home. Her hair was closer to brown than red and her eyes were hazel but who was she to argue with such romanticism? Until then, her only experience had been clumsy, fumbling encounters with boys she knew from school. She had never met anyone like him and she was soon spending every minute she could with him – all her good intentions of working hard flying out the window. When, after several months, the relationship ended as suddenly as it had started, the resultant fallout had been responsible not only for breaking Molly’s heart but also for her failing all her exams.

Studying for her resits during a miserable summer Molly wondered if university was right for her. But she had buckled down, passed all her resits and started second year determined to do well. From that point on, when she wasn’t attending lectures she squirrelled herself away in the library. It was there one day, when she was stretching for a book on the top shelf, that a safe pair of hands had reached out and prevented it from toppling on her.

She had turned to find Colin. Handsome and serious, Molly had immediately fallen for him, impressed by his focus and self-assuredness. She liked that he was organised and remembered important dates. What he may have lacked in spontaneity (Declan had once turned up with a picnic and whisked her away from classes to spend the day at Loch Lomond), he made up for in dependability (she recalled all the times Declan had never showed up).

Studying economics, Colin was two years ahead of Molly so that by the time she graduated, he was already on his career path. On the day of her graduation Molly had been surprised but delighted when Colin offered her a dazzling engagement ring which she had readily accepted. She knew they were young but she had seen that as a good thing, a sign they were meant to be together.

Using her parents’ perfect marriage as her guiding light, Molly knew she had found the right man to follow in their footsteps. She had been full of hope on the day of her wedding; this was the start of her fairy tale and she had no reason to suppose it wouldn’t last.

But then came the day of the laundry discovery. When several days had passed and Molly finally gathered her courage to talk to Colin, he’d admitted to the affair immediately and told her he was leaving. She couldn’t believe that he hadn’t wanted to discuss it, that he was so ready to throw it all away.

‘Aren’t we at least going to talk about it?’ she’d asked him.

‘It’s too late, I’m sorry.’ He’d shuffled on his feet awkwardly, unable to meet her eye. Beneath his contrite expression, Molly saw relief and she knew there was no way back for them. She looked at him, wondering what had happened to the man she had married.

Gone was the man she’d trusted and thought she’d grow old with. In his place there was a man she barely recognised. One who had become very particular about the clothes he wore and the car he drove, and preferred dinner parties to nights in the pub. One who spent more time at work than at home and took business calls before hers. One who had lied and cheated.

A woman at work was enough information for Molly. She resisted asking for the details – what good could come from knowing when it had started, if he’d bought her gifts, if they’d shared a hotel room at the conference he’d attended in Paris. No, she refused to acknowledge the cliché their marriage had become.

Colin moved out quickly, clearly in a hurry to get on with his new life. Strange, difficult days followed. At times Molly felt like running away – where to, she had no idea. But running wasn’t an option; she had her job to go to and didn’t want to let anyone down. And it had been the job that had acted as a life-raft of sorts, giving her a routine and a reason to get out of bed each day.

So Molly had remained in the house on her own, desperately trying to cling to normality. Functioning on automatic pilot, she went to work and avoided people. She’d told only those who needed to know, which turned out to be not many. Cossetted in what she thought was the security of her life with Colin, letting friendships fade had been all too easy. Colin told her to keep the house as if he were doing her a massive favour but the truth was, she’d never really liked the house.

It had been Colin who insisted they go and see a new-build estate on the outskirts of Glasgow. Molly’s dream of starting married life in a spacious red sandstone in the West End, of weekends spent painting, varnishing floorboards and strolling around the bustling bars and vintage shops were slowly extinguished by the gushing sales advisor fawning over the flawless finishes of the contemporary kitchen and the dual-aspect bay-windowed lounge.

She’d turned to Colin, his eyes shining.

‘There’s not much character,’ she’d whispered to him.

‘Who cares about character? With the deal they’re offering first time buyers we’ll be quids in, we won’t do any better than this.’ With little or no knowledge on such things she had bowed to his financial acumen. She’d simply been happy there were four bedrooms and had felt a little inner glow as she imagined children filling the rooms.

She had tried to make the most of the house but no amount of coloured cushions, clever lighting or potted plants ever seemed to infuse any real warmth into it. It had always felt soulless to her. The first few times Molly had driven into the cul-de-sac of identikit houses, she struggled to recognise her own home and had resorted to placing a bright yellow plant pot outside their front door.

All their neighbours appeared happy enough with families coming and going. Some mornings Molly would see a group of women clad in tight black Lycra, meeting after the school drop to go for a power walk. Other days they morphed into sleek looking businesswomen, suited and booted, jangling keys and driving off in their Mercedes or BMWs. She thought maybe she’d join their ranks one day but anytime she raised the subject of children, Colin managed to sidestep the issue. Now she was certain he’d never had any intention of starting a family and the thought made her stomach knot in anger.

Wandering through to the front room, Molly wasn’t sure how she had got through the last few months. She’d rattled about the house on her own, trying to find comfort in being able to leave clutter lying around, cry at romantic films and read until midnight with the light on, her once endearing habits that had clearly come to annoy Colin.

Colin hadn’t wanted to take much and there was little evidence that he’d ever lived here. She almost marvelled at how efficiently he had extracted himself from her life. He handled the dissolution of their marriage the way he handled everything, and she was subjected to his ruthless efficiency for one last time. She certainly didn’t want to prolong it or demean the situation further by haggling or stalling for time but all the same was shocked by just how quickly and clinically Colin was treating their divorce.

Apparently, if neither of them contested their ‘irretrievable breakdown’, it could all be over in weeks. With no children involved, all they had to do was agree over property and financial matters. He’d done all the paperwork and she just needed to sign on the dotted line. All so simple.

When Colin had brought round the papers for signing, Molly had inadvertently seen The Other Woman pacing up and down at the side of Colin’s car, taking a phone call. She had to admit, she didn’t look a total lush. Ultra slim with a sleek bob and a dark business suit, Molly couldn’t help thinking she’d been traded in for a more efficient model. Because although Molly hadn’t grilled Colin for details, that hadn’t stopped her imagining who the other woman was, how much more beautiful and talented she must be. In some ways, that she looked so normal made her feel worse; it was easier to think of her as some evil temptress intent on wrecking their marriage.

Molly also discovered that day why Colin wasn’t overly concerned about the house and its contents. Not even trying to conceal his excitement, he told Molly he was relocating to the company’s head office in New York – presumably with her. When he told Molly it was a dream come true, she had swallowed with difficulty. It was a dream he had never shared with her.

In the kitchen now, Molly glanced at the oversized retro clock hanging on the wall, willing time to speed up. Now that she was going, she wanted to get on with it. More for something to do than a desire for caffeine, she decided to make herself a coffee. She’d never got the hang of the fancy coffee maker Colin had insisted on buying despite its astronomical price. Still, it had outlived her marriage, she thought savagely as she watched the thick black liquid trickle into a cup.

Carrying it through to the hall Molly studied her reflection in the hall mirror.

On the surface, she looked more or less the same. Her auburn hair was longer than usual and the shadows beneath her large, dark brown eyes were certainly more pronounced. But inside, Molly knew she was different. Her self-esteem had as good as packed its bag and left with Colin.

Miserable introspection had been her constant companion these last few weeks and she knew her confidence had vanished. Anger, sadness, resentment all vied for each other as she tried to work out how she had got it so wrong. Each time she thought she had some sort of handle on her emotions, she veered another way until now there was just emptiness.

Taking a deep breath, she whispered her mantra to her reflection; I’ll be fine.

She wasn’t sure what would come next, it was almost impossible to contemplate. Her marriage may be over but so much of her identity was connected to Colin. It was odd to be considering a future without him. Occasional moments of optimism surfaced – hope for what the future might bring – but those moments were eclipsed just as quickly by fear.

At times anxiety and regret threatened to spill over but she forced them back down, determined not to give them a voice in her head. Her life with Colin had been dismantled and now she had to somehow reassemble her life on her own.

The walls had started to close in on her and she knew she had to make a decision. Selling the house was the only option – she certainly couldn’t stay here, not now. The house was ready. Colin’s penchant for minimalism had ensured Phil Spencer’s top tip for selling – depersonalise and declutter – had been easy to achieve. No doubt a few eyebrows would be raised tomorrow when a For Sale sign was hammered into the small patch of clipped grass that constituted their front garden. There had been something liberating about handing over a set of keys to the estate agent’s, entrusting them with the viewings. The young estate agent had all but rubbed his hands together when she’d given him the instruction, no doubt anticipating his commission thanks to the recently published league table which had put their house in the catchment area for one of the best performing schools in the country.

Molly checked, perhaps for the fiftieth time that day, her holdall sitting by the front door ready to go tomorrow. Hopefully she’d remembered everything she needed for the next few weeks. Now that her temping job had ended, she was free to embark on her summer escape, as she had taken to calling it.

A whole summer lay ahead of her and apart from selling the house she had made no other decisions. Something about it felt seismic, a sense she was on the cusp of change. This time tomorrow she’d be at West Sands Guest House and she couldn’t wait.

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