Page 35 of Autumn at the Willow River Guesthouse
‘Pint.’
‘Pint.’
‘Pint.’
‘Pint … hey, Lils,’ Jimmy said, ‘Why don’t you get us some of those posh London drinks you see on the telly?’
Lily smiled. ‘All right, why not?’ She racked her brains, trying to remember the kind of cocktails her friends had often ordered, usually while Lily sat quietly drinking a half of lager.
‘I’ll have six Apple and Rhubarb Tatankas,’ she said, leaning through the group and beckoning the barman over. ‘Large.’
The barman nodded. ‘Ah … what’s in that then?’
It was a little after eleven when she got home, her head buzzing, and a wide grin on her face. She had lost three games of triples pool, but somehow managed to win the darts, despite not having played since university, then held her own when the group moved into the skittles hall at the pub’s rear, winning one game but coming spectacularly last in another.
Pete was watching the end of a James Bond film when Lily came into the living room and slumped down into an armchair.
‘Hey, Hotdog,’ she slurred.
‘You had a good time, then? How was the date?’
‘I don’t think Jimmy realised we were supposed to be going out, just the two of us.’
‘Are you disappointed?’
‘Not at all. It was awesome. I haven’t seen most of those guys in years. I signed up for the skittles team, and next Sunday afternoon I’ve going fishing up at the reservoir with Rod and Womble.’
‘You’re going fishing with someone called Rod?’
Lily broke down into uncontrollable sniggering. She hadn’t even noticed at the time. ‘Rod … yeah, he works in the tackle shop in Brentwell. Rod … oh my.’
‘Womble, he’s a nice lad. See him when he collects the bins on a Tuesday. He’s got two kids. One of them comes to the art class I run on Monday afternoons. Only five, but he’s a creative little guy. Made a stegosaurus out of egg boxes last week.’
‘I didn’t realise I was crashing boys’ Wednesday. Jimmy didn’t mention it, but said it was nice to have a token girl around.’
‘No one caught your eye, then?’
Lily sighed. ‘Dad … am I a snob? I mean, they were all really nice, and we had a great time, but it’s just … none of them … I don’t know … I’m too choosey, aren’t I?’
Pete shifted uncomfortably. ‘You’d probably be better off discussing this with your mother.’
‘The Second-to-Worst Witch?’ Lily sniggered again, remembering the nickname given to her mother by Colin, whose younger sister apparently worked in the little electronics shop next door to Sarah’s craft shop.
Pete smiled. ‘Don’t let her hear you say that. She hates it. But you can call me Hotdog all day long.’
‘I’m a snob, I know I am.’
‘You’re a little drunk, but that’s all. There’s no harm in being picky, and you did just come out of a relationship.’
‘Not by intent,’ Lily said, then immediately felt a little weepy. She stood up, swayed a little, then announced she was going to bed, keen to get out of her dad’s presence before she started to cry.
In her bedroom, she changed into her pyjamas and lay down. After a few minutes of sleeplessness, she got up, opened a drawer and pulled out the laptop she had brought with her from London, intending to stalk Steve, maybe to send him a message, maybe just to write something cynical on one of his more recent status updates … but to her surprise she had five new messages, all of them from Michael Borton.
Four were false alarms, but the fifth was far more interesting.
Lily—firstly, thanks for your message! This is Michael Borton, and yes, my mother is a writer. You found her—thank you! Could you please tell me where she is? For the last five years I’ve felt like she dropped off the face of the Earth.
18
