Page 40 of Autumn at the Willow River Guesthouse
‘What colour is it?’
‘Pink.’
Lily smiled. ‘Appropriate. I’ll be right there. I just have one last thing to do.’
She hurried back to the computer and opened her messages before she could chicken out. Michael’s message stood there like a shining beacon, waiting to be opened and reread. Lily typed a quick reply:
Dear Michael,
Thanks so much for getting in touch. I don’t know the details of what happened to Victoria, but I think she might benefit if you could come up to see her. I can give you the guesthouse’s address. You might even remember it. You stayed here when you were a child. I found a picture of you.
Yours,
Lily
She pressed send, then immediately felt her face flush, heat throbbing under her eyes. Her heart thundered, which was ridiculous, because it was only a message to a total stranger, and she hadn’t exactly given him a come on. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves. She could never beat Uncle Gus and Aunt Gert at Monopoly if she was so distracted.
Her inbox flashed with a new message. For a moment the whole world went grey with the thrill of it, then she crashed like a popped hot air balloon as she recognised the name attached.
Not Michael.
Steve.
Reluctantly, she opened it.
Hey Lils, saw you were online. Welcome back! Listen, so sorry. Can we talk? It’s more than that, though. I’m in a bit of trouble, and I really need someone to get my back. I found an old postcard with your parents address. Is it okay if I pop down for a couple of days? I know you’re upset but you might feel better when we’re face to face.
Talk later,
Steve xxx
Lily stared at the message, whatever excitement she had felt now doused like a sodden British barbeque.
Could things possibly get worse?
‘Lily, do you want us to start?’
Lily closed down her messages and went back into the restaurant, trying to put it all out of her mind. Steve wouldn’t show up, would he? Michael wouldn’t show up, either, surely? Or maybe they both would, and then they’d get in a big fight in the guesthouse car park. Or maybe Michael would turn out to be a weakling bank manager and Steve would hit him over the head with a paintbrush. Or perhaps they’d end up best friends, moving into the annexe downstairs from Victoria, and Lily would spend the rest of her life serving them breakfast while they built an increasingly elaborate system of model railways.
‘Are you alright?’ Aunt Gert said.
Lily realised she was standing in front of the table where her aunt and uncle sat, staring over their heads out into the guesthouse garden.
‘I think I’m losing my mind,’ she said.
‘Ah, don’t worry about that,’ Aunt Gert said. ‘It’s probably just a bit of seasonal affective disorder. Sit down and relax. The coffee’s brewing.’
‘Bad news,’ Uncle Gus said, as Aunt Gert scowled at him and gave a resigned shake of the head. ‘You can’t be the elephant because one of its legs broke off and now it won’t stand up.’
‘Angus sat on it,’ Aunt Gert said.
For some reason, Lily found herself smiling, then giggling, and soon she was laughing so much she thought she might fall off the chair.
‘I think you really have lost your mind,’ Aunt Gert said. ‘Now then. Shall we get started?’
20
Matchmaking
