Page 48 of Autumn at the Willow River Guesthouse
‘I’ll cross my fingers, but I doubt it.’
‘You’ve always got to have hope.’ Mary chuckled. ‘I know there’s slim pickings in the village—I pretty much lucked out with Andy—but you’re working over at the guesthouse now, aren’t you? Don’t you get any handsome guests staying?’
‘It’s mostly middle-aged couples or elderly folk,’ Lily said. ‘I’m keeping my eye out for a rich sugar daddy, though.’
‘That’s the spirit.’
They talked for a while, the conversation coming easier as the time passed. Having felt so disjoined when she had first met Mary again, fearing that their lives had diverged too much to ever rekindle their friendship, she realised not so much had changed after all. Now that she was home, slipping back into the world they had once shared together, she began to feel hope that their friendship might bloom again.
‘I’d be happy to babysit if you and Andy ever want to go out,’ Lily said. ‘I mean, you’d have to walk me through the steps in keeping children alive and contained, but it can’t be that hard, can it?’
Mary laughed. ‘I’ll hold you to it. Perhaps in another eighteen months. But once the little one’s out, I’d be delighted if you could come over and hold her for a couple of hours while I sleep.’
‘Sure, any time. Her? Do you know?’
Mary smiled. ‘I just have a feeling this one’s a little girl. Although I wouldn’t mind another little boy. Once you start, you can never have enough. Talking of which, I’d better head over to get the first two.’
Lily felt much more buoyant as she headed for home. Mary had a warmth about her that just made her feel better, and she promised herself that she would stop by the café more often. As for her prediction, though, Lily found herself smiling as she crossed the bridge over Willow River and headed up the hill towards her parents’ house. How nice it would be to find someone waiting for her, but she sincerely doubted it—
An unfamiliar car was parked outside her parents’ place, on the grass verge just back from the gate. A hire car sticker was peeling in one corner of the windscreen. Perhaps Michael had hunted down her address, but was nervous about bumping into Victoria at the guesthouse, and had come here instead. As Lily headed up the path to the house, she felt so nervous she wasn’t sure if she would be able to speak.
‘Mum? Dad?’ she croaked, opening the door and peering into the hall. A pair of shoes she didn’t recognise stood on the mat, beside the shoe rack where her parents’ kept their shoes. Size nines, there was a speck of something on them which seemed to cut out Lily’s heart even before she realised what it was. She started to back away, the enthusiasm dropping out of her as though she were a bag of stones with a hole ripped in the bottom.
Too late, the door into the living room opened, and Pete stepped through, a grim expression on his face.
‘Lily, he’s here.’
She tried to get out of the front door, but it had shut and her hands missed an attempted scrabble for the handle, leaving her pawing at the closed door like a dog trying to get out.
Flecks of paint.
Of course.
He appeared behind her dad, a longing, puppy-dog look on his face that she had once found so endearing, but now wished she had the strength to slap away.
‘Lily,’ Steve said, cocking his head, his eyebrows drooping, a pout on his face that suggested he might start to cry, ‘I know I’m the last person you probably want to see, but can we talk?’
24
Heart to Heart
Her mum and dad had gone out into the garage, Sarah ostensibly offering to help Pete finish his latest mural, leaving Steve and Lily alone. Her mum had already made Steve coffee, Lily resenting every sip he took as he sat across from her, spinning line after line like an overzealous spider. She wanted to get angry, but she just felt deflated, empty. As she sat in near silence, listening to him make his excuses, she wished she could just dissolve into the floor.
‘I was just feeling lost,’ he said with a long sigh. ‘You were always so busy with work, and I was craving attention. It was childish, foolish, but it’s my sensitivity which allows such things to happen. I never meant to hurt you.’
So, it was her fault he had found another woman. There was a surprise. It was also her fault that he’d failed to sell anything, because her lack of enthusiasm had sucked away his creativity. No mention of course, that her money had given him the freedom to do what he liked without ever needing to worry about getting an actual job.
‘I mean,’ Steve said, giving a dry chuckle and shaking his head. ‘Us creative types, we’re so fragile. We’re like bits of paper really. So easily broken. I tried to toughen up, but every time you went to a work meeting or some function, I felt like I was being rejected.’
Lily could count on one hand the number of times she had gone to any work-related event outside of scheduled hours over the three years she had lived and worked in London. It would have taken her a few dozen hands however, to count the number of times she had rushed out of her office at lunchtime and hurried over to Steve’s studio, just to spend twenty minutes eating a sandwich together.
‘I didn’t want to feel that way, because I knew you were busy with your financial job….’
The way he stressed the word “financial”, as though Lily had in some way done something wrong by not being an artist or a writer or a poet or a street musician standing in a cold Underground station somewhere, slowly began to fill her resolve with a sense of anger. Rather than rage at him, however, she could only remember the good times they had spent together, and how his betrayal had left her feeling empty, as though the carpet of a joyful and wondrous future had been pulled out from under her.
‘But despite everything, I’m sure we can work this out,’ Steve was saying, his voice taking on a drone that Lily was slowly filtering out.
‘Steve—’ she began, ready to finally cut him off for good, but he put up a hand and shook his head.
