Page 24 of Autumn at the Willow River Guesthouse
‘Are you … are you looking for a room?’ Lily asked.
The two women exchanged a nervous glance, then the closest—Bobble Hat—looked back and shook her head.
‘No, no, I mean, we might be, depending … we were wondering if Victoria Borton is staying here. We’re … old friends.’
The woman had shifted again, the book’s cover no longer visible. Instinctively Lily knew these were fans of the writer holed up in the guesthouse’s annexe, and remembered how she had reacted once to someone interrupting her and Steve at a restaurant to tell him how much his art was loved. That the crazed fan—as Lily considered it—was an attractive girl no older than nineteen or twenty, had made it even worse.
It was doubtful either of these two Anoraks had any intention of sleeping with Victoria, but stalking her definitely wasn’t out of the question. Lily found herself shaking her head.
‘I’m sorry, we’re fully booked at the moment, but none of our guests have that name.’
The two women glanced at each other, and a strange sound came from each at the same time. It was a kind of whisper made without really moving their mouths, the sort you might make while trying to talk during a class at school without being caught. It took Lily a moment to figure out what there were saying, but they helpfully repeated the same phrase several times, as though excited.
‘Assumed name … assumed name….’
Bobble-Hat lifted the book and turned it over. Lily found herself looking at a picture of a much younger, thinner, and thoroughly airbrushed Victoria, the kind of author picture where the subject is staring at the camera with a strong, confident gaze, yet still an air of mystery, as though they know the answers to everything but are refusing to tell. She wondered if professional photographers had filters or templates labeled “all-knowing author”.
‘Um, this lady,’ Bobble-Hat said. ‘We’re old friends.’
‘Family … we’re family,’ muttered Zip-Up, in that same whisper-talk as before. Lily imagined sharing a conversation was a nightmare for these two anywhere more public than a library.
Lily shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, I’ve not seen her before.’
The two looked crestfallen. In a way it wasn’t a lie; the woman occupying the annexe looked nothing like the woman in the picture. A vague resemblance, but that was all.
Zip-Up and Bobble-Hat looked at each other again, shared some snippet of information that this time Lily couldn’t catch, then turned to leave.
Realising they were about to go, something Lily had learned in a business class kicked in: never miss an opportunity for a sale.
‘Muffin?’ she said, reaching into a basket on the counter and picking up one of Aunt Gert’s homemade strawberry muffins, wrapped haphazardly in cling-film. ‘Two for the price of one. Today only.’
The two women muttered something again, then both gave a collective shake of their heads as though they were really one organism rather than two, and then went out.
13
Olive Branch
‘So … what’s the deal with that woman in the annexe up there at the guesthouse?’ Lily asked, sitting on an old chair in their garage as she watched her dad glue pieces of coloured glass to a large piece of plywood leaning against the wall.
‘You mean Victoria Borton?’
‘Yes. I had a couple of people show up today, asking for her.’
‘She’s quite the celebrity, according to Gus. Did you look her up online?’
‘I had a look, but it seems like she’s written about a hundred books, so I got kind of lost. All romantic type stuff. I suppose she must be pretty popular, but I had a look at her rankings, and none of them were especially impressive.’
‘It was one book that did it,’ Pete said. ‘Gosh, it was a few years back now. Must have been when you were at university, so you were probably drinking your way through everything and missed all the hype.’
‘I didn’t drink that much,’ Lily protested, remembering long, wild nights in Oxford’s scattering of nightclubs, all day drinking sessions and banging lines of vodka or tequila before heading for packed dance floors.
Pete chuckled and rolled his eyes, as if to say, I know. ‘She had this one book that hit all the bestseller lists, got on the TV and everything. I have a feeling they made a movie out of it, but I don’t remember. It’s probably on every Christmas, something like that.’
‘What was it? Do you remember the title?’
‘Yeah. “The Trainspotter’s Guide to Romance.” It was one of those Richard Harris-type rom-coms.’
‘Richard Curtis.’
