Cressida McLaughlin - The Once in a Blue Moon Guesthouse - The perfect feelgood romance

Molly threaded her fingers between Robin’s and squeezed. ‘You’re in the right place. Even when your mum and dad have gone, you’re not starting it all on your own.’

Robin returned the gesture. ‘I appreciate all of this – the encouragement, the not abandoning me when I first came back, when I was greasy-haired and in my pyjamas, getting through a box of tissues a day. I’m not sure I’ve told you how much.’

Molly dismissed her gratitude with a quick frown and headshake, carrying on as if Robin hadn’t spoken. ‘You’ve got me and Paige. Paige will rope in Adam, and if you want any expert advice, there’s always Tim Lewis, junior partner at Campion Bay Property. I’m sure he’d be keen to offer you a free consultation about your renovations.’ She raised her eyebrows suggestively.

Robin gave a shallow laugh, but her palms were suddenly slick. ‘Oh God, don’t.’

‘Have you seen him, since you’ve been back?’

She shook her head. ‘Sometimes I think I have, a head of blond curls in the supermarket or on the beach, but it always turns out to be someone else.’

‘He must know you’re here. The Campion Bay rumour mill would have spat that nugget of information in his direction. He’s obviously picking his moment.’

‘Or he’s decided to stay away.’

‘Oh, come on.’ Molly laughed. ‘That’s not exactly his style, is it?’

‘No,’ Robin admitted, her stomach churning unpleasantly. ‘No, it’s not.’

The patter of the fireworks was replaced by a meagre smattering of applause from the crowd as the display came to an end. Robin found herself searching through the darkness for that head of blond curls, wondering if Tim Lewis, the ex love of her life, would miss the one New Year’s Eve event that Campion Bay was putting on. Then she realized that he was more likely to be at an exclusive house party somewhere in the Dorset countryside, drinking Taittinger and fifty-year-old Macallan, if Molly’s updates over the years were anything to go by. But if her friend was right and he was choosing his moment to reacquaint himself with her, then what was that moment; why was he waiting? Suddenly it wasn’t just the thought of taking over the Campion Bay Guesthouse that was on her mind, and when she finally made it into bed, a sliver of pale moon glinting at her through the converted attic window, she slept fitfully.

‘This,’ Robin said, rolling out a piece of A0 flipchart paper on the king-sized bed and putting a selection of coloured Sharpies on top of it, ‘is going to be our project plan.’

Molly scooted up to the pillow end and grabbed a neon orange marker, cradling her coffee mug in the other hand. They were in one of the first-floor bedrooms, sadly unoccupied now that New Year had gone and the cold comedown of January had set in. The view through the window was of grey sky and greyer sea, the colours muted like a Lowry painting. Seagulls sat along the rail of the promenade, and Skull Island’s artificial greens looked too bright in the washed-out tableau. Robin shivered and pulled her oatmeal knitted cardigan around her. She scrunched her toes into the thick, aquamarine carpet, finding a crumb that she must have dropped the day before when she’d been touring the rooms with a packet of cheese TUC biscuits and dreaming up her ideal guesthouse.

‘No carpets,’ she said. ‘I want every room to have floorboards and rugs.’ She turned to the bed, knelt on the duvet and wrote Campion Bay Guesthouse in dark blue in the middle of the sheet. Then she picked up a red pen, drew a line branching out from the centre and wrote no carpets .

‘That’s a big move to start us off,’ Molly said. ‘Do you know what the floors are like underneath?’

‘Not really.’ She sank further into the bed. ‘We took my bedroom carpet up when I was sixteen, but that was half my lifetime ago and I can’t remember what work was involved. But the dining room is polished boards and I think it looks classier, more contemporary.’

‘OK,’ Molly said. ‘No carpets, and no American diner-style breakfast bar. What do you want? Who do you want coming to stay here? Who used Once in a Blue Moon Days?’

Robin took a grey pen and doodled an image of a crescent moon in the corner of the page. ‘The days we offered were bespoke, so they weren’t cheap. We sourced the best hotels, restaurants, private planes, speedboat trips, one-on-one wildlife experiences, day trips to Lapland, Northern Lights tours with added personal touches. Special occasions that were more than a weekend away or a hired-out village hall.’

‘So wealthy people, then?’

‘People who were looking for something unique, often that they’d been saving hard for. Campion Bay has the crazy golf, but it’s also got some upmarket restaurants, and it has a classic feel with Ashley and Roxy’s vintage teashop and the picture-postcard seafront. It could be the perfect weekend by the coast if there was a luxurious, unique guesthouse in pride of place. It needs to be contemporary, but with a natural feel. And I want to decorate it using local products if I can.’

‘How local? Like beach scavenging, bits of driftwood into tables, that sort of thing?’

‘Maybe.’ Robin stared out of the window again. She thought she could see a dot of red, a small fishing boat on the horizon, bobbing alarmingly on the waves. ‘And I want my room – the attic room – to be themed around the night sky. It’s the closest to the stars, it has the best view and the tiny balcony.’

‘Suicide strip?’ Molly’s eyes widened innocently when Robin shot her a look. ‘Come on, it’s bloody terrifying up there!’

‘I’m going to get a telescope,’ Robin said, ignoring her. ‘I’ve always wanted one, and just imagine what you’d be able to see, the constellations, planets, the Milky Way. It’ll be breathtaking. But we’ll do that room last – we’ll have to wait until Mum and Dad have gone and I can move downstairs.’

‘You’re not keeping your bedroom?’

Robin shook her head. ‘The attic room will take us up to five chargeable rooms, all doubles, all with an en suite. The rooms downstairs will be more than enough space for me, and the attic could be really special if we do it right.’ If she closed her eyes, she could picture it. The telescope, the navy feature wall, pinprick lights dotting the ceiling and globe reading lamps set in snug recesses either side of the bed. She’d seen her fair share of luxury when scoping out Once in a Blue Moon Days projects, and she remembered Neve’s favourite. It was a five-star penthouse suite in Switzerland, its glass ceiling inviting the night sky in, as if you were sleeping on the edge of the world. For Neve, who had believed wholeheartedly in astrology, in finding truth and love by reading the stars, it was perfect. Robin couldn’t quite manage the penthouse-level of extraordinary, but she could capture the essence of what had made it so magical.

‘So,’ Molly said, leaning forward, speaking through a mouthful of pen lid, ‘let’s do the rooms in turn. What’s the attic room going to be called?’

Robin finished the doodle of the man sitting in the curve of her crescent moon, took her grey pen and wrote Starcross in large, swirling script. ‘There,’ she said. ‘Room number five.’