Summer at West Sands Guest House: A perfect feel good, uplifting romantic comedy

‘How was your drink?’ she asked.

‘I really enjoyed it,’ Molly answered truthfully. ‘It was delicious and very refreshing.’

The lady tilted her head, looking pleased. ‘Thank you. It was one of my creations.’

‘You make the drinks yourself?’

‘I do. I source all the ingredients locally and then I have great fun concocting all the different flavours up.’

Molly was impressed.

‘I have an excellent local cook who comes in to do the evening meals and breakfast but drinks are my speciality,’ Judy explained. ‘I was a flight attendant and I think all those years serving up drinks to passengers must have rubbed off on me.’

‘Well, it was delicious,’ Molly reiterated.

‘Are you here on holiday?’

Molly explained about her brother coming to live in St Andrews with his family.

‘I’m sure they’ll be very happy here.’

Molly nodded in agreement and then admitted how she had stumbled on the inn by accident. ‘It’s such a lovely location here although I hadn’t realised I had walked so far.’

Judy pursed her lips. ‘We are a bit off the beaten track here. Which can be a good and bad thing. Once people find us, they love it and we have a lot of repeat business. Other times, being so far from the town can put people off.’

‘It’s a very romantic setting.’

‘It is, isn’t it? We only have six rooms – four doubles, one single and one family room so it’s mostly couples who book.’

‘How long have you owned it for?’

‘My husband and I bought this place six years ago. I was a flight attendant and he was a pilot and we fell very much in love and it was always our dream to own a place like this. We had ten very happy years together but unfortunately he passed away four years ago.’

‘I’m so sorry. That must be difficult for you.’

‘It can be.’ She gave a small smile. ‘But the business keeps me busy which is good. Especially now the golf school is open again.’ She nodded her towards the window.

Molly gazed out of the window and only now did it dawn on her she had in fact been looking out at a golf course. In the far distance Molly could make out a flag marking one of the course’s holes.

‘That’s a golf course over there?’

‘Yes, that’s Drumloch golf course and though you can’t see through the trees, there’s a golf school and range as well.’

Molly perked up with interest.

‘It was run down for a while,’ Judy continued. ‘But it’s recently been bought over by two golf professionals and I know they’ve got plans for the place.’

‘I might take a walk over and have a look.’

‘Do you play golf?’ Judy asked.

‘I used to play a bit with my father,’ she replied. ‘What about you, do you play?’

‘Me? Goodness, no. Never understood the mystery of chasing a white ball about,’ she laughed. ‘Although George played and always wanted me to learn so we could play together.’

‘Well, I should probably get going,’ Molly said, conscious she had the return walk to undertake.

‘Why don’t you go and have a look at the golf course now?’ Judy suggested.

Molly hesitated.

‘It really is only a few minutes’ walk. When you leave here, turn right and you’ll see a tree-lined path. Just follow it and when you come to a little picnic area with a couple of wooden tables, you’re practically there.’

‘How much do I owe you?’ Molly asked, getting to her feet.

‘On the house,’ Judy insisted. ‘I’ve enjoyed meeting you and it’s been lovely to have a little chat.’

‘Thank you, I’ve enjoyed it too,’ Molly replied, surprised by how easy she had found talking to the older lady. Outside in the sunshine again and feeling rejuvenated, Molly debated with herself whether to go and check out the golf school now or come back another day.

When she had known she was coming to St Andrews Molly had dug out her set of clubs languishing in the attic collecting dust. Now she hoped to have some practice at one of the ranges and maybe persuade her brother to have a game.

Both her parents had played but it had been her father in particular who had passed on his love of the game to Molly. When she’d been a little girl, Molly hadn’t been interested in dance classes, swimming or any of the other activities on offer but had taken to hitting the ball. One day her dad had taken her to a range and she could still recall the look of surprise on his face when, with apparent ease, she smacked a ball a hundred yards down the middle of the fairway. After that, she was his caddy whenever possible and when she was older she played with him at their local club.

Her father was a quiet, thoughtful man and not one to talk much but it became their thing to do together and some of her happiest memories were of the two of them on the course together. She sighed thinking of those times. Sometimes the simplest things really were the best.

At this time of year Molly knew all the golf facilities in town would be busy which was why this location was so appealing. She could see the little path now. Overhung with trees and surrounded by wildflowers, it almost seemed to beckon her. Molly made an instant decision – she was this close, she may as well check it out.

After a few minutes she passed the picnic area that Judy had mentioned and then the golf school came into view – a modern, timber frame building with dark wood cladding.

To one side Molly could see the practice range which consisted of a row of covered bays and to the other side was a small putting green. Further away and set amidst the rolling hills, she could see the golf course perched on the rocky shores of the bay with the North Sea as its backdrop. The sun beamed down and sparkled on the water below and Molly took a moment to appreciate the rugged beauty of her surroundings.

She pushed the door open into a reception area which was basically a large room with a few doors leading off it. There was a small counter and a couple of chairs beside a table with a few golf magazines scattered on top.

A tall, gangly boy aged about twenty wearing a tracksuit came bounding over, introduced himself as Kenny and asked how he could help.

‘I’d like to come the range one day,’ Molly told him. ‘Do I need to book in advance?’

The boy shook his head. ‘You can turn up any time – but it’s empty right now if you’d like to play, I can get you set up?

Molly hesitated for a heartbeat and then decided why not? A little surge of excitement shot through her, it had been so long since she’d played or practised.

The boy helped to get the bucket full of golf balls and, as she didn’t have her own clubs with her, gave her a selection of practice clubs to choose from. After thanking him, Molly made her way to the furthest away bay.

It felt odd to be holding a golf club again. She rolled her neck and loosened her shoulders before she started, her father’s voice in her head. Straight back, knees flexed and head steady.

She took a few tentative shots to warm up, some more successful than others. Molly knew that playing golf wasn’t like riding a bike. If you didn’t practice, you lost the feel for it. And that was why she wanted to try and use this time because she knew she could be a fairly decent player and with that came confidence – something she was sorely lacking at the moment.

It all came back to her why she loved it so much. The focus it required, the satisfaction of striking the ball. Soon she was enjoying herself, getting into her stride and finding that hitting the ball was quite therapeutic. Considering she had a hangover and it was a few years since she’d hit a ball, she was feeling quite pleased with herself.