Page 29 of Autumn at the Willow River Guesthouse
Lily stuck up a hand. ‘Me. I’ve got a feeling my luck is about to turn.’
15
Predictions and Secrets
The rain decided to close in over her days off, so Lily spent most of her time at home, venturing out just a couple of times into the village, huddling under an umbrella as she circuited the tiny centre, looking in shop windows, familiarising herself with what had changed. A small nail salon had opened up, run by a girl from her class at school, and Willow River Farm, run by Martin Donbury, now had a farm shop just past the church. Lily went inside and bought a couple of bags of potatoes from a surprised Jimmy Donbury, who didn’t recognise her until she told him her name. She had recognised him: his face was still as roundly cherubic as it had been at school, now with just a hint of stubble, although his shoulders had grown wide and his stomach even wider. For a few minutes they reminisced over their school days, before Lily bade him farewell.
Mary was pleased to see her again, and they shared a damp afternoon coffee, talking about old times. As Mary frequently moved the conversation onto her current children and imminent birth, Lily was reminded of how different their lives were, even though, now that she was living back in the village, she was beginning to feel some of the old connections. Mary was surprised to find Lily was working at the guesthouse, and Lily learned that Mary’s mother had indeed worked there for a few years, mostly helping out when they were busy.
‘I was wondering,’ Lily asked, having taken up the offer of another cup of coffee, ‘Do you remember a writer called Victoria Borton who used to visit sometimes? She wrote a famous book—’
Mary shook her head while clicking her fingers at the same time. ‘I most certainly do. She wrote The Trainspotter’s Guide to Romance. I loved that book. I wore out my original copy, I read it so many times. And the movie … well, it wasn’t quite as good, but I still probably watched it a dozen times. I mean, my Andy thought it sucked, but he would, he’s a man. You have seen it, haven’t you?’
Lily decided not to forfeit her cool—or dork, depending on Mary’s point of view—points by admitting she’d only watched it a couple of days ago. She shrugged and said, ‘Of course. Not really my thing, but it was all right.’
‘I wonder what happened to her, eh?’ Mary said. ‘I mean, I went and read all of her books. None of the others were as good, but I figured she’d just hit her stride. She just kind of disappeared, though, didn’t she?’
Lily nodded. ‘Ah, yeah. Perhaps she made so much money she retired to the Caribbean.’
Mary leaned forward, an earnest look on her face. ‘You know what I think? I reckon she’s holed up somewhere, desperately trying to write a follow up, but she can’t because that book was so good. And the trying is driving her mad.’
Lily considered asking Mary to predict Saturday’s National Lottery numbers, then thought better of it, just in case. Life was weird enough already.
‘I’m going for the Caribbean island,’ she said.
‘I bet you’ll find I’m right,’ Mary said, chuckling. ‘My Andy says I should work for the government. You know, I knew it was going to rain today.’
‘How about tomorrow?’ Lily asked.
Mary pouted and peered up at the ceiling, as though the weather forecast could be read in the swirling plasterboard patterns, then looked back at Lily and grinned. ‘Sunny in the morning, cloudy in the afternoon,’ she said.
‘Umbrella?’
‘Maybe take one just in case.’
‘Got it.’
The next morning, it was absolutely chucking down, the rain bombarding the village in fat drops so heavy that Lily couldn’t even ride the bike down to the annexe, but instead donned a pair of Wellington boots and huddled under the umbrella, the hamper wrapped in a plastic bag. Even so, by the time she reached the annexe, she was soaked from the waist down and any fantastical dreams that might have been building felt washed away, as she stood outside Victoria’s door like a sodden cat waiting to be let in from the rain.
To her surprise, Victoria was wearing only a grey jogging tracksuit, but her bare feet defied any chance that she was going to make a couple of turns of the cycle path in the rain.
‘Ah, Tiffany, thank goodness. Where have you been the last couple of days? I thought you’d left.’
‘No, just a couple of days off. Every Wednesday and Thursday, although Gus said maybe Tuesdays too in November, as midweek trade tends to fall off a cliff once the leaves have fallen.’
‘No. You absolutely must not. I need you. The last two days, I’ve barely been able to eat or sleep. Just a tuna sandwich or two, and well, enough coffee to wake the dead.’
‘What happened?’
‘Come in and I’ll explain.’
Victoria took the hamper out of Lily’s hands and beckoned her to follow with a jerk of her head. As Lily followed Victoria into the main bedroom suite, her eyes widened.
‘You … tidied.’
Victoria set the hamper down on a table, then gave a sage nod of the head. ‘Briefly,’ she said, as though that explained everything. ‘But I fear it could unravel at any moment, and the chaos….’ She reached up both hands and rubbed at the sides of her head until her hair began to stick out with static. ‘…could return at any moment. I need the inspiration. Quickly, help me.’
‘What do you need from me?’
