When Molly eventually returned to the main hall Anna and Stuart were in conversation with Tom and she felt her step falter for a second. Stuart was looking relaxed and Tom was smiling at something Anna had said, appearing slightly more at ease than he had earlier. It was odd seeing them together. Two people who were her family, that she knew so well, and the other she had only just met but who was occupying so much of her headspace. She realised as she approached them that she wanted them to like each other, to get on.
‘Ah, there you are, Molly.’ Anna ushered her in to their little group. ‘I’ve been telling Tom how much Luke and Lily enjoyed the golf range and how they haven’t stopped talking about it.’
Molly met Tom’s eyes and she smiled at him, memories of their game of golf flickering through her mind.
Stuart waggled his eyebrows at Molly looking pleased with himself. ‘And I’ve got to warn you, Molly, I’ve decided to book a couple of lessons for myself.’
‘Have you?’ Molly looked at him in surprise.
‘You didn’t think I was going to play you without brushing up first, did you? We’ll need to have that game soon but don’t think I’m doing that without some prior help.’
Molly saw Anna give Stuart a meaningful look. ‘We’d better go now and find the children. We’re heading back soon.’
Molly narrowed her eyes hoping there was no matchmaking in process here but Anna looked at her innocently.
‘We’ll see you back at the house, Molly. Nice to see you again, Tom.’ And with that, they were gone, leaving Molly alone with Tom.
He looked tired, she thought. Impossibly handsome but tired. She could see shadows under his eyes as if he hadn’t slept well and she wondered what might keep him awake at night. There was a hint of stubble covering his strong jaw and she found herself wanting to run her hand along it.
‘I—’ Molly started to speak but was stopped abruptly by the man she recognised as the journalist barging his way in front of Tom.
‘Excuse me. You’re Tom Kennedy, aren’t you?’
Instantly, a shadow fell across Tom’s face, his fist clenched by his side.
‘Could we have a moment of your time?’ the journalist continued. ‘Maybe a few words, possibly a photo?’
Tom’s eyes had turned steely cold and his jaw hardened. ‘I’d rather not, if you don’t mind,’ he said tightly.
‘Ah come on. Aren’t you running the golf school now? Make a great little piece for the paper – hero comes to St Andrews.’
The man with the camera stood poised while the journalist didn’t seem to have any regard for personal space, judging by how close he was standing next to Tom now.
A glint of anger flashed in Tom’s eyes. ‘Sorry, no,’ he said through clenched teeth. He turned to face Molly, touching her arm. ‘Listen, would you mind if we got out of here? I could do with some air. Unless you have something else to do?’
‘No, nothing planned.’
A few moments later they left the gallery, allowing the stillness and peace to embrace them after the activity and noise of the gallery. Automatically they headed towards the beach. The sun was low in the sky now and the sea shimmered as they strolled along in companionable silence. In one way, Molly supposed it might seem strange that she felt so easy in the company of a man she hadn’t known for long but she felt no need to fill the silence and instinct told her that Tom needed some space right now.
Her mind replayed the little altercation in the gallery. There had been no disguising Tom’s reaction to the journalist, his unease had been palpable. But even before then he had seemed uncomfortable in the gallery. They continued to walk, the only noise the gentle lapping of the water on the shore until eventually Molly spoke.
‘The journalist recognised you. Is that something you get a lot?’ she probed gently.
He took a breath and let it out slowly. ‘Now and again. The fire – what happened – it’s not something I ever talk about.’
‘You don’t have to—’
He lifted his hand. ‘No, it’s okay. I—I do want to tell you what happened.’
Molly heard him exhale deeply. He cleared his throat and began to speak, hesitantly at first. ‘The tour was in Rome and it was the last night before the final game. It had been a long hot day and I was woken by the smell of smoke and voices shouting. I opened the door but the corridor was full of thick smoke so I ran out to the balcony. I was on the fifth floor and I could see people standing on their balconies above me. I could see they were trapped, there was smoke billowing around them. The only way for them to escape was to try and jump onto my balcony. It was pretty risky but I managed to catch them as they jumped down.’
‘That must have been frightening.’
He nodded slowly before continuing. ‘But once everyone was on my balcony we realised one of the caddies was missing and must still be on the sixth floor. Someone mentioned something about him taking sleeping pills. I went up to look for him. I put a wet towel over my face and crawled along the floor – the others had told me what room he was in. The smoke was thick and I couldn’t see anything. I’m still not sure how I found it.’ He paused briefly and Molly could see how difficult it was for him to recall the night. ‘I dragged him out to the balcony in his room and by that time I could see a fireman’s ladder starting to rescue people from the balcony. The fire was getting closer. I could feel the heat of the flames a few feet away – it was an intense, white-hot heat. All the time I could hear windows smashing all around us. Somehow, I managed to lower him down and then I jumped back onto the balcony. Time was running out and I had to make a leap towards the ladder but the way I landed, I slammed into it at an awkward angle – that’s when I broke my leg.’
He frowned, shaking his head. ‘I found out later, it was too late for Jim – he had died from smoke inhalation.’
Molly gasped, horrified. She reached over and placed her hand on his arm for a moment. ‘I’m so sorry, I can’t imagine how awful that must have been.’
‘After that it was a bit of a blur.’ He shrugged. ‘Voices, oxygen, ambulance – the next thing I knew I was waking in recovery.’
Molly could see how difficult it was for him to talk about it, even recalling the fire had taken a lot out of him and a few moments passed before he spoke again.
‘Afterwards there was a lot of press about the fire…I managed to avoid it in hospital but later on I was approached for interviews. People started using the word hero.’ He shook his head almost in disgust. ‘But someone had died. It wasn’t about me. I’ve never talked about it. Until now.’
Molly swallowed, not knowing quite how to respond to that. He had lived through a terrible, traumatic event and that he felt comfortable enough with her to tell her about it felt significant in some way. Or perhaps he had simply needed to talk after a bad day. Either way she hoped it had helped him in some way.
‘You risked your life. That was a very brave thing to do,’ she said quietly.
He seemed to dismiss the notion. ‘Anyone would have done the same.’
Molly doubted that very much, in fact she knew they wouldn’t. But clearly, he wasn’t comfortable being called a hero as illustrated by the incident with the journalist. And although it didn’t take away from what he did, she could understand his reticence and respected it. Physically, he was strong and powerful, yet Molly sensed a vulnerability about him now. Knowing what he had been through made her want to reach out and touch him. But as she glanced at him, she could see he looked spent and realised he had probably said all he could for now.
‘Thank you for telling me.’
He glanced sideways at her and breathed in a slightly shaky breath before letting it go. Now the words were out, she could sense that some of his tension had lifted and the strain had left his face.
The sun had dipped lower on the horizon now and Molly could feel the cool North Sea breeze wrapping itself around her bare legs. She shivered, pulling her cardigan closer to her.
‘You’re cold.’
Tom’s brow creased with concern.
‘A bit,’ Molly admitted. ‘I don’t suppose I’m dressed for an impromptu walk along the beach.’
‘Probably not.’ He glanced sideways at her and she saw his eyes skim over her. ‘But you do look very pretty in it.’
‘Thanks,’ she replied, feeling a blush rise to her cheeks.
The afternoon had turned into early evening now and most people had left the beach. One of the good things about St Andrews was that most things were in walking distance so it didn’t take long before they had reached the main hub of the town.
‘Are you hungry?’ Tom asked suddenly.
‘Um, a little bit actually.’ Apart from the strawberries, Molly hadn’t eaten since this morning.
‘Do you like Cullen skink?’ he asked.
Molly chewed her lip, thinking. She’d heard of the soup from the town of Cullen but couldn’t recall ever trying it. ‘Actually, I’ve never tasted it,’ she admitted.
‘You’ve never tasted it?’ Tom said, his eyes wide with mock horror.
They had come to a stop outside a small, impossibly pretty restaurant with fairy lights winding their way round the handrail that lead down a few steps to the entrance.
‘This place does the most amazing Cullen skink,’ Tom enthused. ‘It’ll be my treat. I feel terrible, dragging you to the beach and making you freeze. Plus you have to put right the wrong that you’ve never tasted it.’
‘Okay, I’ll try it if it obviously means so much to you.’ Molly gave a little laugh, feeling Tom’s hand on her back as he guided her in. Inside was snug and dark with little alcoves and gold thread lanterns hanging low from the ceiling. Molly sat down opposite Tom, a candle glowing between them and their knees almost touching. She tried not to be affected by the intimate setting and the gorgeous man sitting opposite her but wasn’t managing too well if her hammering heart was anything to go by.
Molly tried to recall if she’d been alone with a man since Colin left – she must have been, surely. But if so, she couldn’t remember. And it certainly wasn’t in a setting like this. If you wanted a romantic tête-à-tête she couldn’t think of a more private setting. She was very close to Tom. So close she could see the flicker of candlelight dancing in his eyes.
A momentary sensation of guilt passed over her, before she reminded herself she was no longer married. She was a free, single woman and the thought was both liberating and scary. But mostly scary. Because although she was feeling more positive about things, she had no real idea what her future might hold. She gave herself a little shake, taking a deep breath and simply tried to savour the moment.
The soup – made from smoked haddock, potato and onion – was served in deep wooden bowls with hot crusty bread. Molly was famished by the time it came and couldn’t wait to taste it. Tom watched as she took her first mouthful of the deliciously creamy soup and widened her eyes in appreciation. ‘The flavour’s amazing.’
‘Told you.’ Tom grinned, clearly pleased by her reaction. After finishing her soup Molly sat back in her seat – or at least as much as she could in the small space while Tom ordered them a single malt whisky, apparently the best accompaniment to the soup. Thankfully her heart rate was beginning to settle and Tom definitely looked more relaxed.
‘I hope I didn’t take you away from the gallery too soon?’
‘Not at all, I was ready to leave anyway,’ she assured him. ‘I really enjoyed it though – I even bought a painting.’
‘Yeah? They looked, um, nice.’
She grinned. ‘Nice?’
‘I don’t really know much about art I guess.’ He shrugged with a lopsided smile. ‘Anyway thanks – for everything.’
At that moment the waitress came to ask if they’d like anything else. After checking with Molly, Tom asked for the bill and then reached for his wallet, leaving a handful of notes on the small silver tray. The sky was velvety black, and the air warm and still as they emerged from the restaurant and Molly realised they had been talking for a long time.
‘Is this restaurant a regular of yours then?’
‘I eat here occasionally. But only because it’s so close to the hotel I’m living in.’ He pointed to a small hotel across the road. ‘Although I’ve never been in the company of a beautiful woman before.’
Molly swallowed, managing to stutter a response. ‘I loved it, thanks.’
‘I’ll walk you home,’ Tom said.
Molly appreciated the gentlemanly gesture except she knew of course West Sands wasn’t her home. It was a beautiful guest house where there would soon be new guests. She felt a stab of something unpleasant at the thought of returning to the city, her sanguinity tinged when she remembered that none of this was real. She tried not to think of the future too much, telling herself to just enjoy this moment of walking with Tom under the stars.
Aware she had fallen silent, she turned to find him studying her.
‘You looked miles away there.’
‘I was just thinking how much I’ve love being here.’
‘But you’re not leaving for a while, are you?’
She shook her head. ‘It’s strange, I always thought of myself as a city person but being here these last few days, being close to the sea, I think it could get used to it.’
‘Do you think you would ever leave the city?’ he wondered.
She pressed her lips together, thinking. ‘I honestly don’t know. I love it here but this isn’t reality, at least not for me. In theory I could go anywhere but realistically, I’ll probably stick to what I know.’ Although for some strange reason, Glasgow didn’t feel like home at this very moment.
‘At least with my brother living here, I’ll be able to visit much more easily than Manchester so it’ll be great being able to see Luke and Lily whenever I want. I love being an aunt and…’
‘And?’ he prompted gently.
‘And I was just thinking about how much I would love to be a mother one day. But being divorced before I’m thirty, I’m hardly on track, am I?’ She laughed humourlessly, shaking her head. ‘God, where did that come from? Ignore me.’
‘Did you want a family with your ex-husband?’
‘We never discussed it properly which probably sounds a bit odd I know. For me it was something so natural I just assumed he’d want it too.’ She gave a small rueful laugh. ‘Somehow I don’t think messy children would have fitted into his ideal life. Just like I no longer did.’
She felt Tom study her and then he spoke very quietly. ‘Do you still love him?’
Molly took a moment to think and could see now their marriage probably wouldn’t have lasted. They had grown too far apart and she had fallen out of love with Colin.
‘No. I did on our wedding day. But I no longer loved him on our divorce day.’
She glanced sideways at him. ‘What about you – do you want a family?’
‘If you’d asked me a year ago, all I would have been focused on was the game and winning. But recently…seeing Joe and Beth. I can see how special it is and it is something I would want.’
He was looking at her with an expression she couldn’t read. They were almost at the guest house now and they paused. Molly looked at him feeling suddenly shy. ‘Thanks again – for dinner.’
His eyes briefly roamed her face before he leaned down, and kissed her softy, their lips meeting for an exquisitely brief moment. ‘Goodnight, Molly.’
And with her heart thundering in her chest, Molly quietly slipped into the house.
Chapter Thirteen
Molly was sitting on a chair in the garden, tapping a pen against her notepad as she attempted to wade through the thoughts swirling around her head. She’d been sitting for over half an hour now and had been full of good intentions to write down some ideas, make a few plans but so far she hadn’t managed to write a single thing down.
This morning she had updated her CV which she was pleased to see looked healthier than it had a year ago. She’d been mulling over the idea of freelance
event work, wondering if that was something she could do. She knew it was a competitive market but she’d made a few contacts now and was pretty sure she’d enjoy the work.
She knew from listening to Anna in the past there were advantages to working freelance – she could choose who she worked for, and work whenever and wherever she wanted. But of course, the downside was not being able to always depend on regular work – not that Anna ever seemed to have that problem.
The junior tournament at Drumloch was tomorrow and then the next day Molly needed to return to Glasgow. Having accepted an offer on the house, the legal work was in motion and she had arranged a meeting with her lawyer. Her parents were flying in a couple of days after that so that would give Molly some time to organise a few things before going to the airport to collect them. She knew the time was approaching for her to make decisions.
The last couple of weeks had passed quickly and busily for Molly, the days slipping into a pleasant pattern. Joe’s wife was out of hospital now but still quite poorly so Joe was dividing his time between the school and being at home with her.
Tom and Joe had more or less given Molly free rein to do what she had to and it had been nice for her to come and go as she pleased. Sometimes she came to the range alone, other times she brought Lily and Luke so they could play. Unsurprisingly, Lily was very focused and Molly had derived a certain familial pride at her niece’s natural ability with a golf club and had tried to coach her a bit.
Tom was busy taking most of the lessons while Molly focused on the tournament but they had seen each other most days, making time for a coffee and a chat.
It had soon become apparent that apart from taking names, not much else had been done. She had spent some time with Kenny whose computer-savviness had helped enormously and between them they had created a registration form and a spreadsheet to schedule times for the players to go out and play. Molly had made up welcome packs for each player which included scorecards and a list of rules. She had also visited a few local shops and managed to persuade them to donate some prizes in the form of balls, caps and chocolate.
Summer at West Sands Guest House Page 12