Page 46 of Autumn at the Willow River Guesthouse
‘The boy?’ Pete shook his head. ‘Not really. Angus and Gert used to look after a bunch of you while we were at work. We’d send you over in the morning and pick you up in the afternoon. Most of the time you’d just play out on the grass outside, or go through Angus’s stack of board games if it was raining. It helped us out a lot.’
‘Do you remember me playing with Michael?’
Pete shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t have known any of their names.’
‘Actually,’ Sarah said, leaning forward. ‘I think I do. I picked you up a few times, and there was always a boy about. Sweet little thing. A little … weedy. Like he’d end up selling insurance or something.’
‘Selling insurance … right.’
‘And he was always sick. His mother would come running over with a tissue as soon as he started sniffing, grab the back of his head with one hand and squeeze the tissue over his nose with the other, like she was trying to put him out for an operation or something.’
‘His mother … did you ever talk to her?’
Sarah shrugged. ‘Not really. Didn’t really get a chance. She wasn’t particularly conversational. The boy seemed nice. Always polite. A shame he always looked either sick or about to get sick. And his sleeves were always crusty from wiping away the snot.’
‘Grim.’
‘So, is this boy the ghost you’re talking about? Did he die or something?’
Lily shook her head. ‘No, I think he’s still alive. Unless ghosts have learned how to use computers.’
She decided to go to bed before she could embarrass herself any more, but alone in her room she opened her laptop, pulled up her social media and stared at Michael’s latest message. His profile picture was unchanged, just a blank circle, and when she clicked on his profile page there was nothing to display except a few uninteresting memes. His friend list was hidden and he had no pictures to display.
‘So,’ Lily whispered. ‘You’re weedy, always sick, and probably an insurance salesman. Not so promising, is it?’
Still, she was drunk enough to type a quick message.
Dear Michael,
I tried to ask Victoria about you today, but she deflected my attempt. Did something bad happen between you? I think it might help if you could come up and see her. Can you take time off from your insurance job?
Kind regards,
Lily
She sent the message before she could chicken out, wondering if the deliberate mention of insurance would compel him to correct her. No one would want to be associated with a job in insurance unless that really was their job. Surely some time tomorrow he would respond, telling her that—
A message flashed up in the box. Lily stared. He was still awake, and had replied.
Her hands shook as she opened it.
Hi Lily,
Thanks for your message. I’ll see what I can do. It sounds like she doesn’t want to see me. Thanks for trying. I should be able to come up soon, if all goes well. I really appreciate you being so kind to my mother.
By the way, it’s pretty late. You should get to bed!
Thanks,
Michael
The message was just as mature as the others, without any of the silly emojis or punctuation characters she sometimes got even from her old workmates. And Michael sounded so kind … Lily slid down in the bed, her laptop on her tummy as she swooned at the ceiling, then abruptly forced herself to sit up. She was being an idiot; she wasn’t sixteen anymore, and he hadn’t corrected her on the insurance thing, so her mum’s guess must have been true. However, telling her she should go to bed had been a little let down of the formality guard he had hitherto kept in place.
If he could do it, so could she.
Michael, I hope I didn’t wake you up! You’re right, I should get to bed. By the way, do you remember a little girl you rescued from a sycamore tree outside the Willow River Guesthouse? It must be fifteen years ago now. That was me.
Lily
