Page 38 of Autumn at the Willow River Guesthouse
Lily jumped. Rather than retreating back upstairs as Lily had expected, Victoria had moved closer to the wall and was standing on tiptoes as she looked at a large framed photograph of the station building in the nineteen sixties.
‘It’s changed so much, hasn’t it?’ Victoria said. ‘I mean … look at all those people. And the thrill of the train coming into the station … you know, that’s what I always loved about train stations. That sense of adventure, of motion. And all those people, every one of them a character study. It’s not the same now, is it?’
Lily smiled. ‘But when you think about it, the best bits are still here. The platform and the station building, even the line where the tracks went. And the view, the nature.’
‘You’re a very pure girl, aren’t you?’
Lily wrinkled her nose. She considered herself a lot of things, but the idea of being pure had never crossed her mind.
‘Do you think so?’
‘Yes. And pure girls are wonderful, don’t you think? A blank canvas, waiting for the world to write down their story. What’s the secret, dear? Do you know?’
Lily frowned, thinking about the message from Michael. She hadn’t yet replied, but planned to do so after she had cleared up the breakfast things.
‘The writer in the story … she’s estranged from her son. I haven’t decided quite how yet. But the girl … she decides to help the writer out by reuniting them. Only, there’s a twist….’
‘That’s a nice idea, but what’s the twist, dear?’
Lily smiled. ‘The son, when he arrives, he’s really good-looking, and the girl … she falls in love with him.’
‘That’s a little melodramatic, don’t you think?’
Lily shrugged. ‘I’d read it.’
‘And you’re not much of a reader … hmm … we could be on to something. Well, that’s nice, but it’s not really a secret. It’s a conflicting device. We need a secret, some big reveal.’
Lily shook her head. ‘I don’t know. You’re the writer, you tell me.’
Victoria sighed. ‘That’s the problem, isn’t it? I can’t get my brain to work like it used to. It’s plagued me for years. I don’t know what to do.’
‘Well, I certainly know what you could do next.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Come outside and eat your breakfast before that pesky squirrel comes back.’
19
Mixed Messages
It had taken another few minutes of goading to finally get Victoria out to the table, by which time any lingering heat in the baked beans was long gone. Once outside, however, Victoria seemed to relax, and although Lily went for a walk along the river while she ate, Victoria was still there when Lily came back, leaning back on one chair with her feet up on the seat of the other, gazing out across the overgrown meadow towards the V-shaped forest in the valley between the two nearest hills.
‘Weather permitting, I’d like to take breakfast outside again tomorrow,’ she said, as Lily collected the hamper and secured it to the back of the bicycle. ‘And if it rains, perhaps inside the common area there?’
Lily nodded. ‘With pleasure,’ she said.
An hour later, after tidying up the breakfast things and dealing with any tasks Uncle Gus and Aunt Gert had for her, she made for the computer on the reception desk and loaded up her messages. She hadn’t imagined the message from Michael. It was still there, so she started typing a reply. Halfway in, though, she lost her nerve, deleted it, and started all over again.
After three more aborted attempts, the best she could do was: Hi Michael, this is Lily. Thanks for getting in touch. Your mother is staying at the guesthouse where I work, trying, I believe, to write a book. She doesn’t go out much. Is everything all right between you two?
She sent it before she could stop herself, then immediately scrabbled around, looking for some button to unsend it. Too late, the message was marked as received. Lily scowled. She sounded like a social worker. She waited a couple of minutes for a reply, but none came. Of course, he probably had a normal job where he couldn’t just play on social media all morning. Or perhaps he thought she was an idiot.
Or both.
The bell jingled as someone came in from outside, and Lily snapped back to attention. She reached up, adjusting the name tag pinned to her chest that Uncle Gus had given her—and that Victoria had dutifully ignored on multiple occasions—and adopted her best welcoming smile.
‘Good morning. Welcome to Willow River Guesthouse. Are you looking for a room?’
