Page 26 of Autumn at the Willow River Guesthouse
‘Well, I’ve eaten worse at conventions, although forfeiting the bacon … shame on you … what’s this?’
She picked up the piece of paper.
‘It’s an important question you’re going to need the answer for,’ Lily said.
‘“When is a sparrow not a sparrow?” What on earth do you mean?’
Before Lily could answer, Victoria turned over the paper. ‘Oh, I see. The answer is taped to the bottom of the plate. So what you’re trying to say is that I need to eat all this … green stuff … in order to answer this existential question?’
Lily nodded.
‘A tricky little thing, aren’t you? Have you ever considered writing a book? You’d probably be quite suited to the mystery genre.’
‘No, I haven’t.’
‘Well, perhaps you should try. Can’t be a waitress forever, can you?’
Lily grimaced. ‘Maybe I’ll take your advice. I’ll borrow a few post-its from reception and start scribbling on my breaks.’
‘They give you breaks? Luxury, I’ll say. When I was working in the coal refinery, we got one break at noon to shake the dust out of our boots.’
Lily didn’t remember anything about working in a coal refinery on Victoria’s Wikipedia page. While it was possible she had done some part time work in her youth, Lily felt it more likely that her isolation had left her one squirt of mustard short of a decent hotdog.
‘I’ll wait downstairs,’ she said.
Thirty minutes later, she was still waiting. Victoria had never taken so long to eat before, so as the cuckoo clock on the conservatory wall announced ten o’clock, she headed back upstairs and gave a light tap on the door.
‘Ms Borton? Sorry to bother you, but are you all right in there?’
No response came. Lily waited a couple of minutes, then gave another light tap. Still no response. A little fearful now that something might have happened to Victoria, she tried the door and found it unlocked. Gently pushing the door open, she stepped inside.
‘Victoria?’
Uncle Gus had told her this was a suite, and it felt like entering a flat rather than a hotel room. A little hall lay in front of her, a bathroom to one side, a small kitchen to the other. Ahead was a closed door.
Lily took a few steps forward. The door, on an automatic spring, bumped closed behind her, making her jump, leaving her alone in the hall. She glanced into the kitchen, but it looked largely unused. A pot of coffee stood half empty, and a couple of large loaves of bread made by Aunt Gert and sold in the guesthouse’s small shop suggested how Victoria kept herself alive for the rest of the day.
‘Victoria?’
Lily crept down the hall to the closed door, listening for any sound of the reclusive writer. Only as she leaned against the door did she hear a kind of rapid gasping coming from inside.
Lily frowned. She really hoped Victoria was doing some kind of exercise, and not something a little more … private, maybe with another person she’d sneaked into her room. On the other hand, she could be lying on the ground, having a seizure or a stroke.
Just in case, Lily had no choice. She took a deep breath, gripped the door handle, and opened the door.
The room was a mess, clothes strewn everywhere, personal objects scattered across the floor. Under the chaos was a sofa to one side and a bed to the other, with a nice view from the window that looked out over the fields behind the old station. In front of the window, leaning over a desk, was Victoria, gasping and panting as she battered away on an old laptop computer.
‘Oh, so sorry—’
Lily started to back away. Victoria turned. Her face was literally dripping with sweat which flew all over the floor as she continued to type while grinning wildly up at Lily.
‘Rebecca, dear, what a star you are. Who’d have thought it? When is a sparrow not a sparrow? When it’s asparagus. What a perfect, perfect opening line. Eight years I’ve been waiting for this lightning strike. I’ve got an opening, I’ve got a tone. I need a character. Come on, Rebecca, give me more, dear. Quickly! Give me more!’
‘Ah … a girl? She’s late for work, and she … ah … gets fired?’
‘Perfect! More!’
‘She … ah … goes to see her fiancé, but he’s got another woman there, and she’s … heartbroken.’
