Page 27 of Autumn at the Willow River Guesthouse
‘What does he do? Some kind of office type?’
‘What? Ah, no, he’s an artist.’
‘Perfect! The misstep! You’re a natural. More! What does she do?’
‘She runs. She runs away from her old life, back to her parents’ place. And there … she’s at a loose end … and she needs something to do, so she gets a job in her uncle’s guesthouse. And there—’
‘Yes, yes! What’s our hook?’
Lily couldn’t help but smile. ‘She meets a crazy old writer who can’t write anymore because her last book was too successful. And they … help each other.’
‘Genius. Go, Rebecca, get out. I can run with this. Come back tomorrow.’
As Victoria leaned over the computer, Lily spotted the hamper lying by the door. The food had been finished, the plate she had taped the joke’s punchline to still turned upside down. The paper had gone, but as she glanced back at Victoria, she spotted it: taped to the top corner of Victoria’s computer.
‘Wait!’ Victoria lifted a hand as Lily retrieved the hamper and started to back through the door. ‘Who is she? What’s her name?’
Lily smiled. ‘Lily,’ she said, unable to resist. ‘Lily Markham.’
14
History
It felt weird knowing she might end up as a character in a book. Everything felt a little surreal as Lily pushed the bike back along the cycle path, pausing frequently to watch the ducks circling in the water. The spectre of her old life seemed suddenly so far away as she hummed a song she had heard this morning on Uncle Gus’s radio. Perhaps she could dictate to Victoria how she wanted her life to go, and it would turn out that way in real life. She would meet a handsome man who wasn’t a cheater or a sponge. To hell with it, he was actually a prince. And she would be his princess. Why not?
The sky had begun to cloud over as she reached the guesthouse, the first few fat drops of an oncoming shower falling around her as she hurried up the path, parked the bike, and headed inside. On the other hand, Victoria might have given up by tomorrow. After all, it had been eight years since her last book.
By the time Lily had washed the hamper’s contents and set them to dry on a rack beside the sink, the windows of the conservatory were streaked with rain. Uncle Gus had taped a list of jobs to be done, but the large party staying overnight had left, and there were only two rooms still occupied. Lily had the next couple of days off, her schedule focused around the weekends, when the guesthouse was busier.
When she came back downstairs after finishing making up the second room, Uncle Gus and Aunt Gert were sitting in the dining area, hunched over a Scrabble board.
‘Superficial,’ Uncle Gus said with a triumphant grin. ‘Thirty-seven.’
Aunt Gert sighed. ‘I knew I should have got the plunger out when you swallowed that dictionary, instead of letting it digest. Fox. Nine.’
‘I’ll up your handicap to fifty tomorrow,’ Uncle Gus said. ‘Remedial. Oh, triple word score. Bing bong.’
‘Lily? Do you know any decent nine letter words?’
Lily frowned. ‘Impossible?’ She counted on her fingers. ‘Oh, that’s ten.’ Then, with a laugh, she added, ‘No wonder the finance industry didn’t work out.’
‘Well, you’re becoming an expert at changing beds, dear,’ Aunt Gert said, then hunched back over the game as though the conversation was over.
Unsure quite what she should be doing for the remainder of her shift, Lily wandered through to the lobby, admiring the displays of antiques she had previously been too busy to enjoy. Her grandfather really had been a collector. She wondered if there was anything especially valuable hidden among all the ancient toys, fixtures, paintings, crockery, and appliances. A rare toaster from the fifties, perhaps? Or an old Victorian era spoon once licked by Prince Albert?
Through a door to the lobby’s left was the guesthouse’s little shop. Unmanned, customers had to ring a bell for assistance. About the size of a walk-in closet, about half was set aside for postcards, local guidebooks and pamphlets, and locally made crafts and foodstuffs. The other half was restored antiques, secondhand books, and old magazines. In one corner was another shelf labeled BRING ONE, TAKE ONE, a lending library of sorts for guests. On a bottom shelf, Lily was surprised to find a stack of old local newspapers, some dating back as far as the nineties, their corners starting to brown with age. She grabbed a handful, went back into the kitchens and made a coffee, then sat down on a sofa in the common area to have a look through.
The dates were all a bit random, with the first from January 1990, with the most recent dated last summer. At first Lily wasn’t sure what connection they might have, until she turned to page five of one and found an article on the guesthouse.
Willow River Guesthouse receives top award
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Family Magazine, Britain’s leading national magazine for family welfare yesterday awarded Willow River Guesthouse of Willow River, Devon with first place in its Best for Families 1997 awards.
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“I’m delighted,” said the owner, Robert Markham, a longtime Willow River resident. “This is what our guesthouse is all about; providing a happy environment for families.”
