Page 51 of Autumn at the Willow River Guesthouse
‘The son grew up to be an image of the man the writer had thrown away,’ Victoria said slowly, sniffing away her tears. ‘And when the writer looks at him, she can’t see the boy for what he is, but as a representation of what she got wrong.’
‘But what if the boy forgives her? He’s a different person. Surely the writer has to understand that?’
Victoria nodded. ‘Maybe she can, but … she doesn’t know how.’
‘That’s our secret,’ Lily said, understanding that within the world Victoria had built around herself she responded better to the fictional part. The reality was too hard to bear. ‘The writer’s secret is that she made a mistake, one she was unable to ever be forgiven for. But the way she gets through it is by helping Lily not to fall into the same trap. And they develop a bond. Lily helps the writer to overcome her problems, and to understand that she doesn’t always need to aim for better. The book that she’s writing, for example, it doesn’t have to be better than the previous one. Because even if it’s not, it can still be good.’
Victoria gave a soft smile. ‘Yes, I think that makes sense. But how does the circle close?’
‘The circle closes when both the writer and our heroine solve their problems.’
‘So, the writer forgives herself, and manages to finish her book, and our Lily moves on from the boyfriend who cheated on her.’
‘Yes.’
‘But what’s the catalyst? The writer isn’t strong enough to forgive herself.’
Lily had a moment of clarity. ‘The son returns. And he forgives his mother, and she learns to let go of the past, and realise that while he might resemble his father, he’s not his father, but a different person.’
‘And how does this tie in with Lily?’
Lily realised they’d drunk most of her bottle of wine too, and that she was more than just a little tipsy. The idea of stealing a canoe suddenly seemed like a really good idea.
Might as well push the whole boat out. ‘She falls in love with the son,’ she said.
Victoria frowned. ‘What, you mean, before she’s even met him?’
Lily shrugged. ‘Why not? It’s just a story, isn’t it? Anything can happen.’
25
Endings and Beginnings
When she woke up on Thursday morning, she had a hangover to be proclaimed from the rooftops. After saying goodnight to Victoria, then making sure the woman got back up to her room rather than falling into the river, she had gone over to The Crown for a nightcap, only to step right into the middle of karaoke night. For once, drunk enough to have a go, once Jimmy and his new girlfriend had warbled their way through I Got You, Babe, Lily had screeched her way through My Heart Will Go On, returning later for an encore of I Will Survive, complete with Womble and Colin doing hideous belly-dances from the top of the pool table. When Rick, the landlord, had suggested an after-hours darts tournament, Lily had been unable to refuse, and although she’d lost her winning streak to a lucky bullseye from Martina, she’d had a grand time, one that had well and truly shaken off her somber mood. She made a self-conscious promise to encourage Victoria to come to the next one.
When she finally got up, just before lunchtime, thankful that it was another day off, she found the house empty but a note on the kitchen table from her dad.
Lily,
Steve’s been hanging around outside all morning and rang the house six times before I’d even taken a shower. Can you either tell him to get lost or bury him somewhere? Chainsaw’s in the garage and there’s a plot behind the fir trees if you need. You’ll have to clear the brambles first. Back after lunch.
Love,
Dad x
She picked up her parents’ phone, the answerphone machine flashing with missed calls and a couple of voicemails. She made it through the first couple of self-righteous me-me-me’s disguised as apologies before getting tired and deleting the rest. She had to do what she had to do, though, so she switched on her laptop and sent him a message to say she would meet him outside the church at three o’clock.
Best to do it close to the graveyard, just in case.
Then, after a couple of coffees and some daytime TV, she checked her social media messages to see if there was anything from Michael, but to her disappointment there was nothing.
Perhaps she should think about giving Steve another chance after all. She stared at a bland lunchtime drama and tried to imagine how life would be, married to an artist. She’d always dreamed of that kind of world, one in which she’d be travelling all over the place, visiting strange and unique places, standing in front of crowds while Steve was applauded at the unveiling of some new masterpiece.
And all the while you’d be financing everything with your suit job, a background fixture while he soaked up all the applause and adoration. And then, after hours, when you were at a business meeting or grooming a new client, he’d be entertaining fans and admirers—
She sat up, nearly dropping her coffee as the front door went and she heard her dad come in, whistling to himself. He put a head through the living room door and frowned.
‘You alright?’
