Maggie Conway - Summer at West Sands Guest House - A perfect feel good, uplifting romantic comedy

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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